Exactly one year after 311: A reflection of purpose

"Now, I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds." -Julius Robert Oppenheimer  

When the winds shifted South, following Fukushima Nuclear Power Plant's 3rd reactor's violent explosion, we left our home in Japan with nothing but ourselves and broken dreams. It has been almost a year since then. Without ever going back to our precious community and home of friends and family.

I recently had the chance to chat with my friend in Japan in the middle of the night U.S. time. I really wanted to chat with her, but at the same time, I hesitated to send her a message at first. Inside me, I had feelings of guilt for evacuating Japan and leaving everyone behind. I often dreamt about family, friends, and neighbors in Japan blaming us for leaving them and excommunicating us.

In the back of my mind I was thinking, "what if my friend had feelings of betrayal and anger towards me?" I was scared, but I took the plunge and sent her a message.

It started with a regular conversation, but before very long, she sent me something like the following this, "Anyway, everything has changed since then. Last time you sent me an e-mail, I had something I wanted to tell you, but it's a little touchy issue, so I am sorry if you do not want to hear it right now." It was startling to read at first, and I assumed that this was my nightmares of rejection playing out into reality. It took a moment for me to think straight, but I decided that I would listen and accept whatever she wanted to tell me, even if it was that I had betrayed her.

She then told me that after the nuclear power plant accident, she became very nervous about nuclear power and radiation. She was confused what she should do, what she wanted to do, and really suffered both psychologically and physically, even to the point of becoming ill.

And, she had been reading my blog . . .

She continued, "You guys evacuated, but you did not finish there. You guys are still caring about Japan and the people living here. I am grateful for your strong hearts and feel like you guys saved me."

I could not help crying. She is the one currently living in a situation we fled from. I felt that her words had made all our sacrifices worth it. The house, my husband's Tokyo job, our entire life there . . . her words made it alright to lose that. Those were casualties in a war we were fighting, fighting for people like her. We had not left them behind. We had left to gather reinforcements. As long as she understood this, any hardship would be bearable. She was the one going through the greater hardship, and she knew we were doing what we could to help her. She knew that we had not abandoned her.

After receiving such a message from her, my resolve to do as much as it would take to decrease usage of worldwide nuclear power became stronger than ever. Her words would carry me through any challenges I would face. If closing down just one reactor made her suffering less in vain or reduced the Japanese government's incentive to minimize the ongoing disaster by just one less lie, I would use whatever energy left I had on that. I would raise awareness on the ongoing nightmare from Fukushima any way I could. I would be the nail that stuck out the most and would not fear the hammer.

When I was living in Japan, I always was worried about how other people thought of me. In part of me, there always was a feeling of wanting to be accepted and not being disliked by others. So, I was trying to meet people's expectation, not showing who I really was, and not saying what I really wanted to say. All my energy went into "fitting in."

However, after the Fukushima accident, my perspective on life changed drastically. It was a wake up call for me. I realized how precious normal, ordinary life was and that you could not assume you could have that life without fighting for it.

I started thinking that I did not want to live a life that I would regret later when I died. I wanted to show and share with others the things I felt or cared strongly about, and I wanted others to do the same thing for me. Quietly living your life and hoping not to be noticed would no longer be an option. To try to live quietly was to give the power to take all you cared about away to those wicked and power lustful enough to do so or risk doing so for their own selfish gain.

Accordingly, when it comes to nuclear energy, I strongly believe that we should discontinue using it until we know how to clean up radioactive contamination and actually deal with the waste (instead of trying to hide it away for longer than our civilization will probably last). No one should feel forced to live with radioactive contamination. I have a duty to spread the word to the people in the world so that no one will have to learn it the hard way like we did. I have the duty to speak out . . . with the strength of the voices of all those who want to speak out but are not in a position to. The silent thousand, millions . . . your voices will also be heard.

Thank you, my friend in Japan. I am glad we had the courage to talk to one another about the things that not many Japanese people can talk about to one another. I feel your suffering and will not let it go unavenged. And please, no matter what happens, do not give up hope. At times we find ourselves lost in a void we feel is too great to ever be found. But, just as our words filled a silence that at one time felt too expansive to fill, so will the void give way to hope.

Words can be powerful. My words saved you . . . your words saved me . . .