Emergence of Butterfly and Hiroshima

Crossing the Bay Bridge with Butterfly, by Thomas Takashi Tanemori

For centuries the silkworm has been honored in Japan for producing the delicate fibers that are the result of its unique metamorphosis. It could be said that this small creature helped to weave many of the early threads in the fabric of commerce between east and west, beginning an intricate global trade relationship that continues to this day. It was the desire for silk and spices that first brought Europeans to China and Japan in the 13th century and eventually led to the discovery of the New World. The gossamer treasure produced by the silkworm has been seen as a powerful symbol for the cultural sensibilities of the entire orient.

For me, it is the transformation of the insect itself--for its creation of something of beauty from the sacrifice of its own life holds special meaning and significance. Akin to the silkworm, is it not through self-sacrifice that, perhaps, we can go beyond the walls of our own ego, our own protective cocoon, and contribute our own unique beauty to the great tapestry of humanity (life)?

I am a survivor of the Hiroshima atom bomb, known as a "hibakusha". I was at 1,164 meters from the HypoCenter where "all life and death was measured". The bomb had taken everything--I lost six members of my immediate family, including both my parents. My childhood was annihilated, my dignity crushed in the rubble of post war Japan. I became an "Oyanashigo" (orphan), I took to the streets, hidden my anger in sorrow and loneliness, I became No. 1 street urchin, at age 8, filthy, poor, bare footed, foraging weeds for food.

The bombing of Hiroshima forced my journey with rage and hatred. When I was 18, fate forced me to seek a new life in America. My life has been controlled by emotion of revenge for my formative years and this need for vengeance fueled my every action: "To revenge I work, by revenge I slept, and for revenge I had to survive. Vengeance, my old friend, my old enemy, and my constant comfort (companion), it held me together".

My struggled for decades to overcome my obsession with vengeance and return home to honor my family name became my "master". All I wanted was to destroy those who'd done this to me--American people must suffer as I, until on August 5, 1985.

While driving into San Francisco to give another "pay-back" speech, I encountered with a small pair of iridescent white wings of butterfly, gracing her beauty that changed, causing me to about face. At that moment, I knew I had been set free. How little I knew then, a new page of history of mine was about to be written.

May I share with you how is it the boy that I was, once war torn and exiled, driven by hatred toward Americans and the man I am now, having experienced "from revenge to forgiveness"?

* * *

No one had envisioned what the day might bring on August 5, 1985. When I left my home, in Turlock, the mid-summer sun was already glittering the San Josequin Valley over the Sierra Mountain range. I was one of many guest speakers expected to give a speech at the 40's Anniversary of the Hiroshima Bombing. I thought about how I could justify revenge for the Hiroshima bombing, avenging my father's death.

I was driving my dilapidated, but comfortable, American car on the way to Saint Mary's Cathedral, in San Francisco to give another "pay-back" speech. Gnawing over what my American born-wife said, just as I was leaving the home, that I was exploiting Hiroshima, which gave me more reason, as if it were adding fuels to raging fire, justifying for my revengeful speech.

My heart became confused and overwhelmed with thoughts while my mind focused on my message. While crossing the Bay Bridge in mid-way, I began to identify it with the bridge that I built, spanning the last 40 years since my father's death. I have sustained that bridge for these decades by a single consumed emotion of Revenge. The full gamut of emotion and thoughts, including feelings of hatred, love and compassion came crashing through my head.

I saw a "flash", summer cloud reflected by the morning sun. Suddenly, hatred and revenge that consumed my life--and I thought, "Oh, God, no, not againâ ¦." The thought of another atomic bomb instantly brought back the day in Hiroshima.

I looked up into the clustering summer cloud. It reminded me of the mushroom cloud on that "Morning and on Judgment Day", August 6, 1945. Unable to control my emotions, I pulled onto Treasure Island, parked by the side of the road and surrendered to my tears. "How easy it is to return to Hiroshima," the Voice said softly.

Then, the dream (vision) I had as a child, the night before the bomb, in the dark-bomb-shelter, crowded and hot with summer-steeped bodies, came back to me. It was about the transformation of suffering, caught up into the bright fireball, a raging vortex, the crane, "Senba-zuru", changed into the white butterfly.

When I awoke, I saw that the fire had almost burned itself out, though embers were still swirling in the air. As I watched, these embers began to transform into orange and black Monarch butterflies. As they emerged, they created a symphony-an angelic chorus more beautiful than any thing I had ever heard. Every fiber of my being began to sing with this glorious sound.

The sky erupted with more and more butterflies. These heavenly creatures filled the sky like a magnificent multi-colored sunset, and the white butterfly led the multitude of monarch butterflies, dancing and surging in every direction.. The memory of that dream was so vivid that I thought I was in it all over again.

In that mushroom-shaped cloud, I saw faces of Mrs. Mary Fur, Michiya Nakamura Sensei and my three children. And I looked up, a small pair of iridescent white wings had come in through the window and grace on my dashboard.

My heart was troubled. "Standing alone between the Heaven and the Earth, On this Spanning Bridge of Mankind, from the past, present and to the future, painted across the sky in cinematic fashion. Since August 6, 1945, along with thousands, and tens of thousands of other people, I paid an awful price of the war. The last forty years of my life flashed before my eyes.

(1). I saw the face of Mrs. Mary Furr, middle age, an American nurse, who placed herself and her own profession at risk by giving her heart and tender love. I was hospitalized in a psychiatric ward in Modesto, California, for the next six months right after I immigrated to America, in June 1956-transported into migrant labor cam, "to pick fruits"--the Land of my enemy. In the midst of darkness, as I was treated as crazed animal in the who was petrified in the solitary confinement, isolation and spoke only Japanese!

I considered her, as my enemy and the target of my mission: revenge. I built a fortress of revenge to keep my heart frozen. Now this fortress was crumbling by her tender love. I vaguely understood as Mary told the group of doctors that "all this young man needed is someone to love himâ ¦." The seed of love, which she planted, was sown nearly thirty years ago. As I looked back, her unconditional love that saved my life from the hand of Dr. Gallop. He was the Chief doctor, who led for "witch-hunting"--I was nearly killed many times over--medical and exploratory treatments in search for how radiation had effect on human body. He was like a man who worn a black gown with sickle in his hand. I was discharged into the hand of Mr. Furr. First time I felt hope!

(2). 1 saw the face of Nakamura Sensei (teacher) in the Kotachi village where I survived in the postwar Japan. She was the one who stood for me during my adolescent years, going against all Japanese traditional culture and risking her own social standing in the postwar Japan. Her tender face was like a woman clothed in white uniforms and sang songs of compassion, who transformed into "Ten-no-Shisha", an angelic-butterfly, swarming around, watching and protecting me.

I saw her seed of unconditional compassion, which was sown in my youth, suddenly emerged into light with freshness of life. I could see now that the hour of germination, bringing forth-new life, as it has been dormant, waiting so long for spring, emerging from deepest chamber of my soul.

(3). 1 saw third face, the faces of my three children, "tender young shoot", in the Intensive Care Unit room with my heart-attack. They watched me vigilantly throughout the night, visible glass window separating two different worlds. They communicated with me through their eyes that filled with jewels.

I was struck for the first time by the notion that I truly came close to death. I was only in my mid-forties. Had I been preserved from the atomic bomb only to die prematurely of a heart-attack? I thought of the night that my father died, on September 3, 1945, when I was only 8 years old, and how important it was to him to make sure he had correctly passed on the Three-Fold Principle to me. He had always said that we repay our debts to our forebears by passing what we have received on to our children.

Then, I heard The Voice: "Iniquity of a father will be visited upon the children, even unto the third and fourth generation to come. . .. " How could I, as a father, act irresponsibly to cause the visitation of Judgment upon my children and their children? They are innocent from the guilt of crime that they had no part.

There is no telling what society would do to them, after I committed irreconcilable and irreversible acts of revenge. What will I say to my parent's spirit if I caused my innocent children to suffer? I cried out for the answer! "How I despair this coursed fate of mine. As bitterness poisons these innocent children of mine, I madly waste way in this world of 'Revenge.' Is there any 'Balm in the Gilead'? "

The Voice continued: ". . . Recompense to no man evil for evil ... Avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, 'Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord. ' Therefore if thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink.- for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good."

I struggled as I faced these truths. I saw myself naked, and without pretense. I am at the crossroads. Must I not ask Ishi no "Ojizo-san " which way that I should turn? My soul is on the justice teeter-totter, teetering between two opinions: Revenge or Forgiveness. Nevertheless, it is genocide of the human race if we are to continue on the road of repeated revenge!

Yet, in the deepest chamber of my soul, I was still crying out silently for revenge. Must I not fulfill the vow I made over my father's grave? But, I know now that I would be followed by an eternal burden unless I do something to change my heart. I can not afford to pass down the consequences of revenge to my children.

I began to gain some enlightenment and human understanding. Now, it is clear that the teaching of my father came with understanding. Simply said that all actions have consequences and all action has to be taken to restore equilibrium in oneself, or life would forever be out of balance. It is wrong to revenge, for my action can lead to an endless cycle of repeated actions and fruitless reactions. It is important to face the reality that another will take revenge in return.

I am literally at the crossroads. I am at spanning of the Bay Bridge between the Oakland and San Francisco, draped with back drops of the Golden Gate Bridge, once stood as if were opening arms to ten's thousands immigrants from Far East.

I pondered the reality of human drama that is unfolding before my eyes. I must admit that I have neither ability nor the capacity to understand why the War was fought and to what end did we sacrifice the untold millions of innocent lives, both young and old, children and adults. Neither am I capable of judging as to war was ever the last human mechanism in bringing a resolution between two conflicting nations?

It became clear to me now that even though these faces never met with each other before, they were urging and beseeching my heart for forgiveness and reconciliation. Their spirits seemed to already have been reconciled with each other. They all are in the same spirit of love. Seeing these faces converged, I stood in awe in the midst of this spiritual drama. They touched me physically as well as spiritually. This is the first time ever I saw that forgiveness defines the relationship between the Divine and Man. It sustains the heart of human relationships without any cultural or racial boundaries.

I must make a decision. Question is what did I have to leave behind for my own children? What did they really know of their father?

I did know then, in my heart, what I must do. There was urgency of hour to share the message of the Crane and the Butterfly with my children-children of whole world, a human drama. of mine-the healing for the "young and tender shoot" was waiting for my final action, as their father. It was then I resolved to leave them my testament-- "The Testament of Silkworm" [Emergence of Butterfly] to tell the truth, no mater how difficult, no matter how shameful.

* * *

Suddenly, out of nowhere, I saw a beautiful white butterfly that flew across the windshield of my car. It is the like the one I saw in my dream forty years ago! It landed and stayed for sometime, flapping wings, surging of energy that I felt within. Then, it soared into the blue yonder against the glittering of the mid-morning sun. The ocean breeze as free as a white cloud that is being carried it away. I heard the voice of that what crane, is now white butterfly, shouting: "Takashi, remember who you are and follow your heart, no matter what.... Takashi, remember the words of your father. You are a son of scion of samurai familyâ ¦Takashi remember, who you are!"

As this butterfly, it tipped the teeter-totter to the forgiveness side. It is beyond the human capacity to fathom as to what and how this seemingly insignificant butterfly would have any importance in the pages of human history of the event that happened forty years ago. That event fractured the lives of untold millions, but now I've seen the whole world would have a chance to change forever.

The message is clear and simple. We can settle human conflicts and differences national enmity, ethnic hatred, cultural divisiveness and an individual-without resorting to violence or war... neither in the path of endless cycle of revenge.

For the first time, it all made sense to me. The dream was waiting for me, as if it were dormant, deep down in my soul, these four decades. For me, the "butterfly" became the heavenly-angel to bring about my inner-transformation. All the resentment, anger, bitterness, consuming desire for vengeance toward Americans and Japanese society paled against the overwhelming love I felt as the white "butterfly" touched my heart with its "magical" power. It seemed as though the "energy" of butterfly removed the clay that blinded my eyes for the last four decades. It was only then do I felt first time a burden had been taken away.

I returned to myself, with a sense of newness and freshness. I saw unmistakably and irrevocably that my enemies were not the Americans or Japanese society. The enemy was none other than myself. At last, I found peace within myself, with American and my people, and "White-man's" God. (I wondered how many "butterflies" are flapping their wings, desiring to touch the hearts of children of the world?)

As a result of this returned dream, my message was no longer about revenge. It is acknowledging that the time for recrimination is over and our only hope is for reconciliation, by "letting go of the painful past and learning to forgive". This inner-spiritual-transformation brought with it the realization that if the human race is to survive, we all need to work together to make the world a safer and more peaceful place in which to live by fighting the last battle, the most difficult one of all:

We honor this passage through darkness; We must have courage to enter The darkness of our own hearts-again and again, Emerging with the gift of new life. We will find the path to victory-- Healing only comes through learning to forgive and making peace with our painful past.

In looking at my life, I have come to understand that just as the butterfly (silkworm--kaiko) creates something of beauty from its own sacrifice and transformation so can we make a better world. Although Hiroshima remains a part of me and "my body bears the scars of Hiroshima and suffering and memories will live with me forever. My agony throughout all these years will not be forgotten, but they are forgiven! I won't ever forget a cotton blanket I brought over from Japan when I immigrated to America for revenge. But it is now transformed and covers me with warmest heartbeats of countless Americans who helped me to rise above bitterness and personal feelings--turning my life "from revenge to forgiveness."

It was while presenting a speech at St. Mary's Cathedral in San Francisco in commemoration of the 40th anniversary of the Hiroshima bombing that I finally cleansed my soul and experienced the deep transformation of inner peace.

Thank you for listening to my heart.

Thomas Takashi Tanemori

Post Script

Likely Sadako Sasaki, the Hiroshima girl whose time ran out before she could fold 1000 paper-cranes and save herself, I, too, am running out of time. I am fighting another war--this one against slow tick of time, combating against a disease linked to radiation exposure, (doctors feel the loss of my vision is a result of latent embers from that blast so long ago) on August 6, 1945, that began eating away at my vision. The bomb had taken everything from me. Now it would rob me of my sight, my independence and my dignity.

For months I struggled with the anger and rage, fearful of what life would be like as a blind person in a sighted world, I tried to hide myself in my cocoon away from my family, my friends and society. Ironically, my sight now reduced to a large stamp-sized square of light, moving toward complete blindness. Daily, I asked myself the same question: "Would I never leave Hiroshima behind?"

Today, I live in Lafayette, California, in a "mother-in-law" flat, where butterflies and one thousand paper cranes swarming and cradling me. I now live with my guide dog, Michi, which means "the way" in Japanese. After years of both emotional and physical darkness, I finally understood that "the way" can only be found by going beyond our own pain and cocoon and reaching out to others. I was at last able to see by the "emergence of butterfly". Now, my desire is to speak and share the meaning of the suffering of Hiroshima and ways to bring world peace. It is with these thoughts and desire in my heart, I would like to join with you and your endeavors for global peace. I wonder if it will be possible for us to have, conducting several different events--gathering at the sight of Peace Park in Hiroshima--on August 6, the year 2000: (1). to show how to change paper cranes into paper butterflies (give out gift of paper crane and butterfly) and share the children of the world that it is possible to overcome the sorrows of history and that it is necessary to overcome the incessant human obsession with vengeance. (2). organizing a "Breaking of Bread" by the children of world with chop-sticks (hashi, it also means a 'bridge' in Japanese), making unbroken "bridge" in-circle, and (3).releasing of 2000 live-butterflies into the sky in Hiroshima and several other major cities throughout the world at 8:15 a.m.--symbol of "learning to heal and making peace"--emergence of butterfly into millennium and our continual commitment for global peace.

Remaining, I am,

Thomas Takashi Tanemori Silkworm Peace Institute 3371 Morage Blvd. #100 Lafayette, CA 94549-4641 USA

(925) 284-2201, silkwormPI@aol.com