Embrace Transition (eTransition) is a movement dedicated to the transitional crossroads in our lives and the role these play in our growth and development. For now our focus is on Japan and its inhabitants who were swept into a state of transition by the Tohoku Earthquake & Tsunami of 3/11

Embrace Transition’s purpose right now is to be a place for people inside and outside of Japan to connect and share stories and observations. We invite you to explore what has shifted for you post 3/11 and how this is impacting your outlook on life, your choices and decisions. What feels different and has changed for you? What is changing around you? We also invite you to share your vision for Japan. What road(s) should it take to rebuild this beautiful country? And what role should each of us play in this?

Throughout life we move from one phase and one state of being to another. The difference is called change; the road in between, transition. Transitions are connection points, in-between periods in which we are changing but have not fully changed yet. Transitions are sacred spaces we should embrace wholeheartedly. These are periods in which we have the opportunity to reinvent and refresh ourselves. Periods of self-reflection and preparing for change. By nature, a transition is chaotic, confusing and often deeply challenging as it throws us into the unknown and forces us to make new choices. It tells us that old paradigms no longer work and that we must come up with new ones. Transitions wake us up. They summon us to look at ourselves with critical eyes, to explore who we are and how we want to live.

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But slowly I returned to the life I had before March 11, falling back in the routine of a busy job and a familiar way of living. Excitement about the future made place for anxiety about the huge challenges the affected areas (and Japan at large) are facing, while I’ve yet to act upon the many intentions I made in those first weeks to do things differently from now on.

Looking back, March 11 did not change me the way I‘d expected it would. I am not transformed in any obviously dramatic way and have not taken any big leap forwards.

In some way I’m disappointed that a big awakening did not sweep me off my feet and drag me into new territories. Sometimes it feels as if I was only allowed a glimpse and for reasons undisclosed did not qualify for the next round.

Other times I’m disappointed with myself. That I’ve used my time and energy to organize my life back into what it was, instead of stepping into the unknown. I look at the people who are tirelessly helping with the relief efforts in the North, and wonder why I’m not out there volunteering. I see how others have made meaningful changes in their lives following the earthquake, while mine has basically remained the same.

But when I take a step back, I realize that disappointment is just a form of self-pity.

I remind myself that transformation is not an overnight event. A traumatic event such as the Tohoku Earthquake (and the disasters that followed) serves as a trigger for change, but transformation itself is a gradual process that requires our active participation. There are steps and phases, but there’s no handbook as to how it should be done. Change is not a clear-cut, linear process, where you go from a to b, while of course it also works differently for different people.

There are probably good reasons for my life returning to a certain normalcy, and the intentions I made in those first weeks are still available for me to put into action. In fact, I’m in a better position to do so today than I was four months ago.

I might still be the same person with the same issues and flaws, but I’m also changing. March 11 has given me more clarity on the path I’m on in this life. I have a deeper sense of connection with the world around me, more appreciation for each moment, and take things less for granted. Love, previously a complicated word full of conflicting feelings, now simply is present, quietly underlining the flow of my being.

And then there are the smaller changes. I gave up meat, wake up early most days, put a regular exercise regime in place, and created a facebook page dedicated to change and transition in Japan. Overall I use my time more wisely. Wasting it feels as an insult to the people who have lost everything and those who are supporting them through these difficult times.

I’m changing in a less radical way than I’d thought I would, but I’ve not returned to life as I knew it. On the surface it might look as if I have, but underneath I’m going with whatever it is that the earthquake has set in motion.

Perhaps that is what awakening is all about. A fleeting moment in which we feel the power of change in the whole of our system, so that the fog keeping us asleep and stuck in our status quo falls away and we can see our lives and choices more clearly.

I now treasure that moment of awakening that started somewhere in the middle of the earthquake and stretched for weeks. Now that I stopped waiting for something big to show up, I’m no longer disappointed. Reinterpreting its meaning as a turning point has helped me see how I’m already changing and that it’s entirely up to me what I do with that.

If I look at my own life, I can see how both play a role. I’m either in one place or the other, or somewhere in between.

In the wake of Japan’s triple disaster I’ve gotten to experience love and fear at a whole new level. Perhaps no wonder, given all that happened and is still happening since the big Tohoku earthquake struck Japan on March 11: the situation in the North, the increased possibility of an 8+ earthquake hitting an area close to Tokyo, where I live, anytime soon and the ongoing nuclear debacle. Enough doom and gloom to keep anyone in the grips of fear. But also enough reason to face our new circumstances with determination, hopeful and ready to make changes for a better future.

Returning to love is like coming home. We feel connected to ourselves, to others and to something bigger. We’re strong and present. We feel happy, even in the face of turmoil and disaster. We’re full of hope, as deep down inside we know we can overcome anything. We see the light at the end of the tunnel. We trust the flow of life and believe in our ability to change things.

But then fear shows up and off we go…

What is it about fear that we keep going back to it, again and again? What do we expect to find?

Is fear necessary to balance love? Or is it about soul and ego battling for first spot?

Whatever the reason, as soon as we step into fear, we disconnect. We feel alone, separated from our core and the world around us. We become paralyzed, confused and insecure. Stuck between past and future, unable to move in the present. We might even feel doom is upon us. Surely this is not a pleasant place to be.

So why choose to be here?

Do we need to experience fear in order find our way back home, to love, or to confirm that ultimately love is the only place to be?

Or is it a matter of trust? Perhaps deep down we distrust love, and are always expecting to be disappointed and betrayed. Fear feelings forever hiding in the back. If that would be true, fear might be an integral part of love and the other way around.

I would like to be able to say that fear has no place in my life. That I choose to always be in a place of love. But that would not be true.

I was truly scared, when the earthquake struck. I’ve been scared many times since that moment. I’m scared when a strong tremor disturbs a peaceful morning coffee or when I read about the Fukushima meltdowns. Physically scared, but also afraid for our future. That Japan might not make it. That I might not have the strength to make the right choices.

Yet I’m also hopeful about the future, excited about the opportunities in front of us and confident about my ability to do the right thing.

I don’t have the answers to how it works between love and fear. But I do know it’s important to understand which of the two drives our behavior. Only then we can step out of fear and into love.

And right now, in Japan, we need a lot of love. To stay awake and move forwards. To heal and restore our spirit. To support the people in the North. And to make the changes needed to rebuild the country and give renewed meaning to our own lives.

This post was originally published in Embrace Transition

Then, on March 11, the big Tohoku earthquake struck and everything changed.

Within minutes of the earth starting to shake I was reconnected with the country I’d taken for granted and forgotten to love. Crammed with other passengers in a small station office on Shinagawa Keikyu Platform 1, where we had sought shelter, my world was thrown into turmoil. Nobody moved or spoke a word. Only the rhythmic sound of 100+ fast-beating hearts and the uncanny sounds of a station threatening to collapse could be heard. Before my eyes station personnel were running back and forwards, fully exposed on the dangerous platforms, risking their lives to make sure thousands of other passengers were as safe as they could be. Not a single person in panic, and coordination all around. In those moments, in which I was fearing for my life but also feeling extremely awake and present, I remembered why I’d fallen in love with this country many years ago and fell in love all over again.

Since that notorious day my renewed connection with Japan has only become stronger. It sometimes feels as if the earthquake has torn away feelings of distance and apathy and replaced them with compassion and love.

Love is eternally present, yet we do not always connect with it. We easily forget about love in our busy and self-absorbed lives. We forget to stand still and appreciate the beauty in what is and always will be. We make the concept of love so complex that we forget about its simplicity and that, in the end, it’s really all we need to restore the connection with our surroundings and ourselves.

For me, the earthquake opened my eyes to see the beauty in Japan again and rediscover my love for a place that has given me so much.

For that I’m very grateful.

This post was written for and originally published in Embrace Transition, a facebook site dedicated to change and transformation in Japan post the 3/11 earthquake, tsunami and nuclear disaster.

By now, three weeks later, I can see plenty of pesky egos, including my own, back in their saddle. Egos that tend to play tricks with our well-intending minds and like to move our attention away from that sense of union and back into one of separation.

My own inner wannabe queen keeps urging me to put my own needs above that of others and take care of my own business first. At the same time she decries me for being selfish and doing so little for those in need of help. She wonders why I’m not already out there, up North, making myself useful, dismissing that what I do from a distance as second rate at its best.

She’s one noisy and bossy wannabe queen.

But when I tune in to the voice of my soul the story changes. I hear that every act counts, that every drop of help makes a difference. That whatever the form, whatever the quantity, it all comes from the same source and goes to the same cause.

I’m reminded there’s no us and no them. That I should not waste my time feeling small compared to the people on the ground working day and night to make sure food and other daily necessities reach the shelters and evacuation camps. That I should not have any judgment about the ‘panic’ people who, fearing nuclear harm, left the city in a hurry, leaving us, the stayers, behind. I’m even reminded that ‘those’ Tepco people and other ignorant and arrogant bureaucrats and officials never mend any harm and are just as worried and focused on getting the situation under control as the rest of us.

My soul furthermore tells me that, instead of giving in to those conflicting polarizing feelings, I should get back to that sense of oneness. That strong feeling of community and communication I had in the first days after the earthquake hit. And that instead of wanting to do a thousand different things at the same time and support every organization with everything I have, I should find focus and act from there.

We have much work to do and many choices to make. We have to find common ground, agree on common goals. Be one voice, for a renewed soulful Japan.

So I set new intentions. To let go of resentment. To feel powerful again. To know that any voice and any form of contribution matters. And to believe, without doubt or confusion, that my own voice and my own modest contributions matter as well.

No more separation. No more confusion. Back to unity and cooperation. Back to being grounded in what I can do, as my part of a bigger whole.

Another calm and quiet day in central Tokyo. At least it is for me. Many others are working hard. Getting supplies out to the North, organizing benefit events, or simply working around the clock to keep their companies afloat.

I walk through the city and notice, as I have all week, that everywhere restaurants and shops are open for business. While many offices have closed down since mid-week, the people catering to our food needs have showed up for duty every single day, making sure we don’t need to miss our favorite Latte or pasta lunch.

It’s raining. Lots of people on the street. We have our umbrellas, as we always have when it rains, but nobody is running indoors to shelter for radiation. Just another rainy day in Tokyo.

I walk through Kabukicho, Shinjuku, and am amused by the many young couples heading for or leaving love hotels. No radiation but lots of love in the air in Tokyo’s red light district.

Myself I’m heading for Shinjuku Kickboxing Gym for a couple of rounds of kicks and punches to squeeze the last drops of stress out of my body. Grateful for my trainer to be here, grateful that he kept pushing me to continue training despite all that was going on the past week.

Two hours later, me tomato red faced but beaming with energy, we enjoy a nice Thai lunch together. We alternate conversation with checking emails and facebook updates on Iphone (his) and Ipad (mine). Under the circumstances bad manners are allowed.

We part ways and I go to Hanamasa supermarket to buy supplies for the Northeast. Later I find out that the group I planned to send it to no longer can accept small packages. Fortunately other groups still do.

It takes a little effort to figure out what to donate where. Needs and directions are changing by the minute. But it’s all good. What matters is the enormous amount of grass root initiatives coming into existence everywhere. And the fact that thousands of volunteers are already out there, driving up supplies, cooking meals, communicating needs. And from what I can see, it’s not chaotic. People work together, share information. Egos have taken a backseat. People adapt, go with the flow. I have nothing but respect and admiration for every single person doing something right now, whatever it is.

I come home and get out of my soaking wet sneakers. I think about how they have supported me through a very difficult week. I almost bow in gratitude.

My faithful sneakers. I’ve not parted with them since the big earthquake of 3/11. Knowing I can run away fast and walk for hours, if needed, made me feel safe and prepared. Every time I see a Japanese girl gracing the streets with her designer stilettos, I want to kick some sense in her. “What if another big one hits the city?” I want to say. But than, who says I’m not the fool trading in elegance for precaution.

I check twitter and catch up on the latest developments around the Fukushima Plant. The situation remains serious. I want it be over. I want to believe things will be okay from now. I want to fast forward to some years from now when Japan is back on track, reborn.

Sigh. All in good time. Step by step. Most important now is to keep faith and look for ways to contribute to rebuilding this beautiful nation.

I wake up this morning, late, to a beautiful spring day. The first thing I notice is that my heart’s beating at its normal pace again. It probably has for a few days now, but it’s only today I’m really aware of it. If my heart is calm, I must be okay. My heart is a good indicator of things.

Next I realize I slept 10 hours straight without waking up. First time in a week. An hour on my spike mat had relaxed my body enough for mind to allow long, deep and healing sleep. A two-hour kickbox workout with Johnny Oliveira on Saturday also helped.

I check news, twitter, facebook, email. Standard first-thing-in-the-morning routine nowadays. Some encouraging news around the Fukushima Plant. Stories of grass-root organized food convoys reaching people in the Northeast. A wave of gratitude sweeps through me.

I make coffee, open the windows (first time in days), brief in fresh Tokyo air, and ask myself what I can do today to help, realizing millions of people in and outside Japan must be asking themselves the same question.

At some point the earth shakes again. Or is it me? A quick check of my earthquake twitter stream tells me I’m not making things up. We cannot always tell these days if what we feel is real or the body reliving a memory. More importantly, different from other days, this shake doesn’t scare me. I don’t jump up. I even continue typing the email I’m working on. Sanity has returned.

In the afternoon I go to the Dutch embassy to pick something up. More an excuse to see if my embassy friend Gertie is around. I know she has worked around the clock this week and have not spoken to her yet. Gertie is there and so are other people I know. I’m happy to see how relaxed everybody is. Nobody who tells me I should leave Tokyo. I realize they had a tough week too, did what they had to do. It’s really good to see them.

Home again. My house is a mess, so back to the mundane. Cleaning dishes, do the laundry, fold piles of clothes lying everywhere, put things back where they belong. When I start vacuum-cleaning, I comfort myself with the thought I probably saved a little electricity by not vacuum-cleaning in a week.

I ponder again what I can do to help. How can I make a difference? How can I make what I have to offer available?

Today I can bring supplies to drop-off points for immediate delivery to the evacuation camps and shelters in the Northeast. I can give blood. I can donate money and encourage my family and friends overseas to do the same, giving them ideas on how to best do this. I can continue reassuring them we are really fine and in no danger in Tokyo. I can vacuum-clean once a week and safe a little energy that way. I can write. I can take care of myself, making sure I exercise, eat well and sleep enough, so I’m strong, mentally alert, and able to make good decisions and be engaged in a positive and contributing manner with what is going on in Japan.

Tomorrow there are other things I can do. As, for sure, there will a lot to do for a very long time.

My friends,

First, thank you so much for all your messages and words of support and concern. I am really touched by so many of you reaching out to me. And through me to the people in Japan.

Second, I am okay. Still shaken, pretty tired, sometimes pretty emotional, but mentally and spiritually strong.

Right now all of us here are experiencing something we have no experience with. We have no handbook ready on how to deal with what is happening, neither do we know what will happen next. Real and surreal at the same time. We live from moment to moment, from day to day. Here in Tokyo we try to do our normal things, yet nothing feels normal. Life as we knew it is gone. We are already living life differently. Priorities have shifted, relationships changed. We surely feel as one community, close and on the same page. We all had the same traumatic experience, and all are very aware we are lucky, here in Tokyo, compared to the Northeast.

I know that you are concerned about the Fukushima nuclear plant and hearing reports on people leaving Tokyo to safer grounds. It is true that many foreigners have left the city. Some embassies, among which the Dutch embassy, has urged their citizens to leave. Many foreign companies have relocated their expatriates and families. I respect their decisions, especially if children are involved, but do not plan to follow their example.

I am among the group of foreign locals who is still in Tokyo and that does not want to leave. Many of us have strong connections with the city and its people. We have family, friends, coworkers or staff we are responsible for. And many of us see no reason to leave. We all monitor the news, we have lots of resources of information here, and we constantly exchange information. Facebook and twitter play an amazing role. For me these two are a real lifeline right now.

We all know there is a lot of uncertainty and that nobody can say for sure what is going to happen. We are getting reports on something new happening almost every hour. At the same time we are also getting more and more background information that is helping us put things into perspective. This helps us stay calm, make informed decisions and be prepared.

I like to share an update from the British Embassy dated yesterday, afternoon. Widely read and spread here in Tokyo. Although we cannot say anything with absolute certainty right now, this update from the Chief Scientific Advisor to the UK Government makes a lot of sense to many of us here. Moving from panic and fear to getting informed, and next to putting things into perspective is so important in situations like this. Especially for the people in the situation. Please be assured this does not mean we are getting into denial or going overboard on the positive thinking side. Believe me, we are all very reality-minded here.

I encourage you to read it.

For “facebookers”

For others

Our plight here, although not a light one, fades in comparison with the people in the Northeast. Every time we feel an earthquake or aftershock in Tokyo, and we have many, we know in the Northeast they probably feel it stronger. Every time we look at the empty shelves in supermarkets and wonder if we should start stocking food (which we should not, there is still plenty of food here), we think of the people in the disaster area evacuation camps where food supplies are getting scarcer by the day, with reports that at some places people only get one riceball a day. And as far as radiation is concerned, if we are already concerned here in Tokyo, we can only image what it is for those living closer to the plant (and in the disaster areas).

Please keep sending your thoughts and words of love and prayers to Japan. The Japanese people truly appreciate it. They feel very much supported by the world. The words of admiration for how the Japanese people have been dealing with everything since Friday, conveyed via press, personal messages and twitter (very big in Japan), makes them feel proud and helps restoring their spirit. It all helps. It really does.

And of course you can also help with financial donations. Very much needed. I am happy to send you suggestions of good organizations.

For now, with love,

Jacinta

And, as any good coach knows, there are also valuable life lessons and positive habits to be learned from working out.

Here are three of mine from my recent workout of choice, kickboxing.

1) Always return to base. With this phrase, my trainer summons me back to my start position. After each kick or punch I must return to base before moving to the next. From my base position I’m strong and stable. Outside of it, I lose balance and alignment and my kicks end up in thin air, while punches become feeble and misdirected.

Applying this base metaphor to life, being firmly anchored in our core self helps us make targeted decisions and live from a position of inner strength. However, when we abandon this “basecamp of the Self”, it’s easy to lose sight of what’s really important and get lost in activities that go against our nature. Left unchecked, this behavior tends to weaken our actions toward life goals and desires.

2) Go for it. These words are my trainer’s signal to completely let go of any hesitation and shyness, and unleash my innate power. Per his command I switch off the thinking mind and yield all control to instinct, trusting that my body will know what to do.

In life we often stop ourselves in just going for what we want. We let uncontested beliefs, fear of failure and embarrassment, and inappropriate advice from others get in our way. Wouldn’t it be better to turn off that internal and external chatter and listen to the wisdom of our intuitive voice? And then just go for what it tells us?

3) Train like a champion. Although I box for fitness reasons and not to be the next Muhammad Ali, I train as if I’m preparing for my ring debut. My trainer and I dream big and have fun. Proper fight techniques and a professional regime of three minutes boxing rounds have my mind believe I’m ‘in training’, and not working out. I often imagine myself in the ring, looking at my opponent with bullish eyes and a killer intention to win. This invigorates my boxing and helps me stay motivated.

Our imagination is one of the most powerful, yet underused tools, we have at our disposal. When allowed to run freely, it knows no limitations. We can be anybody and experience anything we want. Imagination is pure creative energy. In its safety we can conjure amazing life plans and play out our bigger games. These, in turn, give birth to ideas, insights, inspiration, motivation and so on. Believers in the Law Of Attraction will tell you that visualizing your desires, by using pure imagination without judgment, will get you into a place of attracting into your life that what you want.

There are other lessons I learn from my classes e.g. balance, alignment, the importance of intervals, the inspired presence of my trainer…Of course, everything we experience contains life lessons. But there’s a special quality to those that come from something we do repeatedly, like a sport or exercise.

I encourage you to explore this for yourself, looking at whatever regular physical activity is appropriate for you.

P.S. if you live in Tokyo and are interested in kickbox fitness lessons, contact my trainer Johnny Oliveira. Johnny is a professional kickboxer and a fantastic trainer.

I used to live like that. Until I slowly lost my way, and realized my life needed a new context. Looking back, I can see what was missing. I was going from one experience to another but without any foundation to live from.

Through self-quest and inspiration from others, I eventually discovered what I call my guiding perspective. This is a basic outlook on life that helps me understand and accept things as they come my way.

Nowadays, I see circumstances as destiny; meant to happen because either the Universe or something I did, felt or thought, put it in motion. This is what gives me a choice in any given moment. I can reflect on an inherent learning lesson, act on the opportunity an event might be bringing, or simply accept reality for what it is.

This is working well for me. I feel more at peace and present in the current moment. Working with what life brings, rather than longing for what it doesn’t, enables me to accept and create my own circumstances. This belief supports me in detaching from fixed outcomes, and letting go of whatever was not meant to be mine.,

For you, dear reader, another perspective might work better.

One of my friends, for instance, looks at life as flowing between chaos and balance. He is comfortable and inventive with chaos, because he knows he will always get back in balance.

Another friend approaches anything with a positive attitude. She builds on what is good in her life, and dismisses all that–is-not as being unimportant in the bigger scheme of things.

Of course, having a guiding outlook does not mean life suddenly becomes perfect. I continue to experience moments of confusion and resistance and I definitely don’t remain in a state of bliss and gratitude all the time.Neither do I like everything that life presents me with.

However, I always return to that foundational view of reality. As a result, I’m now much happier and more purposeful than I used to be, and relatively stress-free.

And I feel guided.

It’s this sense of benevolent guidance that really marks the difference between running around in a tizzy versus being en-route. The thrill of creating life on the go by staying close to my true self is an adventure I heartily recommend