Easter Sunday. The notion of rebirth swirls in my mind. I take delight in the gentle blossoms of perennials shooting out of the grounds, after what feels like a particularly long and punishing winter of Covid’s third year and then, this war.

I’m certain I’m not alone in daydreaming, if not of resurrection, about this scenario:  What if I could go back and redo my youth, but with the wisdom and knowledge that I have now? I found out, serendipitously and just in time, that there is a notion – in my very own cultural heritage – that you can be born again. No religious awakening required.

It turns out that in Japan, all that’s needed to be a child again is to stay alive to see your 60^th birthday, a milestone I just passed. It was also my third birthday under Covid. Staying alive for this long used to be a rarity, even in my home country that is now famous for the longevity of its people: current life expectancy is 82 years for men and 88 for women. Compare these figures with those just after World War II:  50 years for men and 54 for women. Statistically, I would have been dead for six years already.

In Japan, your 60^th birthday is called kan-reki, literally meaning return-calendar, a celebratory occasion that was introduced by China to Japan during the Nara period (710-794). Once you go through your unique [zodiac animal + natural element] combination, you technically start a new life cycle. Let me explain.

Growing up in Japan, I was familiar with the Chinese zodiac, a repeating cycle of 12 years, each represented by an animal. I was born in the year of the Tiger (1962) as was my father (1926); my mother was born a Wild Boar (1928); in my siblings I have a Sheep (1955) and a Horse (1966). In our family, the zodiac animals were evoked occasionally to explain away somebody’s personality quirk or behavior. If my mother was acting particularly stubborn, my father would say something like, “such a wild boar she is.” We were called Year Woman (toshi-onna) or Year Man (toshi-otoko) every 12 years: at age 12, 24, 36, and so forth. As kids, we were taught to recite the cycle through a mnemonic method, in four series of threes.

What I didn’t know is how the Chinese zodiac interacts with five natural elements, around which much of Chinese philosophy is based: earth, fire, metal, water, and wood. The five elements are assigned to the 12 animal signs, creating 60 possible characteristic combinations. It turns out that I am a Water-Tiger, a combination last seen in 1962. If you live to have cycled through all 60 combinations, you get to be a baby again. In Japanese, babies are called little red ones (aka-chan). So, for your 60^th birthday celebration, you wear a red hat and a red vest, you are seated on a red cushion, and you are fed festive food (some of which is red).

I was ridiculously happy to learn of this tradition from my friend M, who lives in San Francisco but happened to get stuck in Japan because of Covid for her kanreki. When she texted me a picture of herself in her red outfit, it made me smile ear to ear. With a childlike glee, I decided that for my own 60^th birthday, I was going to wear red and invite others to do so as well. Were it not for the fact of the lingering pandemic and the escalating war, I would have planned a big party. Instead, I kept it modest in scale but obsessive in the red theme. I was giddy with excitement. M decided on a lark to fly out for the occasion.

The celebrations came and went, but what I continue to embrace most enthusiastically is the notion of a second childhood — to celebrate the sheer miracle of being alive. Whenever I can, I’m leaping into the chance to learn and do new things with a sense of fun and wonder. Shortly after my birthday, I went rock climbing with my husband and son, something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time.  Just yesterday, my teenage son convinced me, on a whim, to go karting on a race track with him.  And because I’ve always been a little embarrassed that I can’t sing, I’m going to take voice lessons (which I received as a birthday gift from three friends) and look forward to belting it out while driving. I also just bought my first senior discount ticket (to enter a castle in Scotland). Talk about having your cake and eating it, too.

To all the Water Tigers out there, Happy 60th Birthday, and a happy second childhood to you!

Recently, I turned 60, which is called kanreki in Japan and is kind of a big deal. I want to write about that, and about so much more that’s been percolating during these past two pandemic years. I don’t even know where to start. With the specter of a nuclear fallout more present than any time in memory (though I was alive for the Cuban Missile Crisis, I was not cognizant), I feel an urgent need to capture what I’ve learned after six decades of living. So, I made a list:

1. The best things in life are free: stargazing, holding hands, swimming in the ocean, a bear hug, a belly laugh, a walk through a field of wildflowers.
2. All things pass. This notion was tattooed into my heart in junior high school, when we had to memorize a passage from a 14^th century Japanese epic, The Tale of the Heike: The arrogant do not long endure: They are like a dream one night in spring. The bold and brave perish in the end: They are as dust before the wind. I think about this as the Russia-Ukraine crisis unfolds.
3. Because life is ephemeral, cherish beauty in everyday life. Whether setting the table, or writing a condolence card, put your whole heart into it. It will show.
4. Music by J.S. Bach is my portal to the divine. I spent three years learning to play The Goldberg Variations, and it was like a pilgrimage.
5. I have tasted slices of heaven. In the pristine Norwegian mountains, for instance, where we hiked the length of Manhattan without encountering a single soul.
6. Another slice of heaven: swimming in the Aegean Sea. I saw my husband come out of the water, electrified with pure vitality, a sight to behold.
7. Ask, and you shall receive (yes, I did go to Sunday school). That’s been my experience, whether it’s a loving marriage beyond my most ardent wishes, or a refund for spoiled produce.
8. When we over-function, others will necessarily under-function. I remind myself this when I feel resentment brewing from “doing so much.”
9. Keep it simple, sweetheart.
10. Human nature seems to stay constant over the centuries. Reading The Iliad now (for the first time), the Russian invasion of Ukraine, while atrocious, is not shocking.
11. Our breath is our superpower. It allowed me, on the cusp of turning 60, to quiet my monkey mind, to still my Elvis legs, to stand up on a 25-foot-high pole, and to take a leap, acrophobia be damned.
12. This is no dress rehearsal; this is it. That’s what I repeated to myself when trying to get my feet atop that pole. See above.
13. The only thing we have to fear is fear itself. This took on personal meaning, in my bones, when I confronted my biggest fear. See above.
14. The greatest gifts we can give our children: roots and wings.
15. If we have been damaged, relationships are where we heal.
16. Not all that glitters is gold. Still water runs deep. Exhibit A, my husband.
17. Drinking never solved anything.
18. Unfulfilled expectations are not the same as broken commitments. If you want chocolates and roses on Valentine’s Day, or breakfast in bed on Mother’s Day, say so. I learned to stop punishing people I love for not being able to read my mind.
19. Less, done correctly, always yields you more.
20. It’s not the size of the house, but the amount of love inside.
21. I might be 5’2”, people might call me petite (but not in Japan), yet I feel huge inside. Better than the opposite!
22. When in doubt, choose kindness. It never fails.
23. Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom. (Turns out, not attributable to Viktor Frankl.) Our ability to choose to learn and grow is our privilege as humans, and what separates us from beasts.
24. There is no light without darkness. Embrace all the feels. Our joys are even more vivid because of our sorrows.
25. Most of us don’t have a singular calling; we need to develop a portfolio of pursuits to lead meaningful lives.
26. Wear sunscreen. By the time I realized this, I had age spots everywhere.
27. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. My mother used to say this whenever I despaired.
28. Loosen your grip on the steering wheel. Most things are beyond our control. Let life surprise you.
29. Our body doesn’t lie. Our mind may try to override it and have us power through, but our body eventually tells the truth. My lower back is my most reliable messenger of stress or exhaustion.
30. Say what you mean, mean what you say. Disingenuousness has a foul odor. Children, horses, and dogs can smell it. Incidentally, my name Atsuko篤子means “sincere child.”
31. Don’t save the silver and the crystal for special occasions. Today is the special occasion.
32. If you don’t enter the tiger’s cave, you won’t catch its cub. Japanese proverb. Take risks.
33. Even monkeys fall from trees. Ditto. Don’t be afraid to make mistakes.
34. Fall seven times, stand up eight. Another Japanese saying. Cultivate resilience. I got bullied a lot as a child – in New Jersey because I was different, and when I returned to Japan, because I was different.
35. What doesn’t kill me makes me stronger. See above. Being bullied taught me compassion and gave me strength.
36. Put on your oxygen mask first. Make sure you’re taking care of your own vital needs before helping everybody else. Self-care is not selfish; it replenishes our well so we can give more abundantly to others.
37. Virtues are formed in man by his doing the actions. I take these words (which I read in Good and Evil, my freshman philosophy class) to mean that daily habits reflect who we want to be. Or: how we lead our days is how we live our lives.
38. It doesn’t have to be all or nothing. Even five minutes of effort to cultivate a habit is worthwhile. Inch forward every day.
39. Write it down, clear your mind. Keep a little notebook next to your bed for sleepless nights.
40. Good things come to those who wait. I married my husband at 38, birthed my daughter at 40, and my son at 42. All of them have been worth the wait (most of the time).
41. You are replaceable at the office (, the committee, the board, etc.). You are irreplaceable to your family and friends. Remember that, often.
42. Ask yourself: is this (person, activity) uplifting, life-giving? Beware of energy drainers.
43. Toothpaste cannot be squeezed back into the tube. Be intentional with what you say and what you do.
44. The best antidote to loneliness: good books and movies. My recent favorites in each category: The Overstory and Drive My Car.
45. Parenthood is the great equalizer. I feel connected to all mothers everywhere.
46. Let children know that they can push back – they are our equals as humans – but that they can never put you down. Teach them to respect you. And all other humans.
47. The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven. I’ve met the most joyous and generous people who have very little material comfort or wealth. And more than a few people who are the exact opposite. Happiness, then, is a state of mind – an inside job as they say.
48. Everything is awesome. See above.
49. To lose is to win. A Japanese proverb. Ask yourself: Is it more important to be right, or to keep this relationship?
50. Laughter is the best medicine. When in the doldrums, seek comedy. Or start a tickle fight.
51. It’s not whether conflict will happen in a meaningful relationship, but how you manage it. Let your kids witness you walking through it, and coming out on the other side, even closer and having built up more trust.
52. Rain makes the ground firmer. An auspicious Japanese saying that provides comfort to those being married in foul weather.
53. Teenagers and menopausal women are great models in vulnerability. Maybe that’s why I love them so much.
54. Never say never. I’ve certainly found myself doing things that I once had sworn I would never do. In Japan, an unusual or incongruous event is described as a fox’s betrothal – from folklore, now a phrase referring to rainfall during sunshine.
55. All actions stem from love or fear. All emotions are derivatives from these two primary emotions. I marvel at the infinite hues of emotions.
56. Be generous, always, especially with tips, butter, and hugs.
57. When the visibility is unclear, pull up to the side of the road and wait. Forging ahead through a fog is a recipe for disaster. When the sky clears, go full steam ahead.
58. Love is the answer.
59. In the beginner’s mind there are many possibilities, but in the expert’s, there are few. When I pause to consider all that I still have the chance to learn, it blows my mind, and fills me with wonder at the fact of being alive.
60. Always, we begin again.