Osaka Surprises

Jessica prefers to come 10 minutes early but I have insisted on 30 full minutes. Energy healings to clean out the room can be done in advance long-distance, but I like to physically feel out a speaking venue. For instance, wherever I teach, I like to make sure that chairs are arranged horseshoe-style, not like a theater performance in some impersonal auditorium.

So Jessica has graciously consented. She has flagged down a taxi and now our only problem is whether or not our taxi driver can find the lecture hall.

Smart though they are, Japanese taxi drivers often get lost, even with GPS installed. Remember, this is a country where many streets do not have names at all, nor do houses post numbers for any mere stranger to gawk at. No, house numbers are well hidden; it is enough if YOU know the number of the house where you live. Besides, that number won’t help a stranger much anyway. House numbers are assigned in the venerable order of when that house was BUILT, nothing silly or shallow like sequential street numbering.

Therefore, the savvy traveler in Japan comes equipped with a map. Even a simple cab ride involves much bickering over this map. Often the driver pulls over for further discussion. If I were paying the fare, this might worry me. But I’m not, so instead I toy with the lace doilies on my seat.

Japanese taxis, in my experience, are always immaculately clean. In fact, they are so pristine as to be practically gift wrapped on the inside, much like the beautiful papers and shopping bags for which Japan is deservedly famous. Every cab I have used in Japan has included a silent, cheerful driver; a clean, fresh fragrance; and white lace doilies covering everyone’s seat. Hey, in such a refined environment, who cares that much about getting lost?

HORSE RACING

As a matter of fact, we do get lost. But only a little. Soon Jessica and I enter the office building reserved for our talk. As our elevator glides upward, I reassure myself that so far all has gone well: The train ride, my installation at Hotel the Lutheran, and now this, arriving in plenty of time.

We walk into the longest, skinniest room I ever have seen. Back in 1975, in New York, I lived in a “railroad flat” on the lower East Side, where all the rooms were laid out in a row. This lecture hall is far skinnier. Imagine going through a long tunnel, only not dark. (And you are not having a near-death experience, at least not yet.)

Chairs are arranged in five rows, each row perfectly straight. Every seat is full. Nearly 70 people wait, sitting ramrod straight in their folding chairs. All their backs are to me.

Way, way back at the end of this hall, is a white board with markers. In front of it, two chairs are positioned, one for me and the other for my interpreter.

As Jessica and I enter, the only face visible belongs to our “handler” at the table next to the entrance. “Victor” sits at a registration table where he has been collecting the entrance fees for Guest Event participants. And, my, how he is sweating!

Never before have I seen a Japanese person act like this in public. We are two minutes late! Sweat pours off Victor’s face like spray from a shower head.

Grimly, he points at the clock on the wall. In a furious stage whisper he tells Jessica that we are two minutes late. (Jessica never had checked the time for our scheduled event, she has just guessed when it would start. Oops, she has guessed wrong.)

If you’ve ever taken one of my workshops, you know that I always make it a point to start right on time. In America, this approach is New Age counter-culture, but I like rewarding those who come punctually. Too often, otherwise, I have noticed that latecomers make themselves extra important by making everyone else wait for them. In Japan, my punctual style fits right in. But according to this custom, Jessica and I are now in two big minute’s worth of trouble.

We lurch toward the front of the long, long room. Take a deep breath. Showtime!

NAGIKO’S GIFT

“I can make this work, and do it with integrity.” For years, this has been my personal motto. It stands me in good stead now.

We wind up having a very delightful time, me and this group of people in long, straight rows. Ever read “Madeline”? In this children’s book, the girls stand in only two long, straight lines. A nun is in charge. This nun, I am sure, would adore our seating arrangement here.

But I am concerned with keeping the chi circulating, not with keeping little girls obedient. So I must work way harder than usual. I do everything I can to keep the guests from nodding off to sleep. Luckily for all of us, I do not attempt a strip tease. But I do sometimes climb up on my chair and stand there to talk. Think Britney Spears on stage, only with less choreography and more enthusiasm.

And, of course, I alternate talking about Deeper Perception with doing some mini readings. One very dignified, middle-aged man is told about how mischievous he is, really. Then, before our eyes, he sheds his sober façade and all of us can see him, for a few seconds, as the Dennis the Menace of Osaka.

In another reading, I bring up an attractive, 30-something woman and describe to the entire group what she is like as a lover.

I love how this group is responding. I am especially thrilled to spot an old friend, Nagiko, in the audience. During one of my previous trips, Nagiko Sunadori had traveled to Tokyo to take my Empaths Workshop. She did beautifully. And now she is here, with her shy, bright smile and the aura of a super-talented empath.

After the workshop is over, Nagiko and I hug each other. Then she hands me a beautiful card containing two letters, one in Japanese, the other in English. Reading it, for the first time all evening, I let other people see how shocked I am at something.

Nagiko doesn’t speak much English but she has had someone prepare a translation of her Japanese words, so that I can read this: “I have created your community (‘Rose community”’ in one of the largest social networking service sites, ‘Mixi.’ After I joined your workshop, I came to hope that anyone who needs your method would find it in the community. Now the community enjoys more than 100 members!”

She concludes, “I myself is so happy to see you again–my joy is beyond the words… Please enjoy your stay in Japan.”

I do. I do.