You've heard of the Japanese kamikaze pilots of World War 11 and their legendary bravery. How they sacrificed their lives in suicide attacks by flying straight into enemy planes and warships? At the time, the enemy was America, and they so believed in the cause of defending Japan that pilots on kamikaze missions knew before they strapped on their helmets and scooted into their cockpits that they would not be coming home; they would never be seeing their wives and children again, and they would never know whether Japan would win the war. They didn't let themselves think about any of that. They didn't allow themselves the luxury of thinking of themselves. The tradition of death instead of defeat was deeply entrenched in Japanese military culture. The Samurai warriors had a tradition known as hari-cari, in which the defeated warrior would fall on his sword before the enemy could take his life. They had, in sociological terms, a "macro" orientation vs. a "micro." What I mean is that the needs of the group outweighed the wants of the individual. This is what in sociology is known as a Collectivist perspective.
Here in the U.S. we don't see things the same way. We are an Individualistic society-John Wayne rugged individualists, with Frank Sinatra crooning, "I Did It My Way" in the background. The average American doesn't readily understand sacrificing themselves for a larger cause. If we do volunteer, we have to be "talked into it" because we were raised in a culture where there is an undeniable "every man for himself" attitude. Not to say we don't care about one another-we do. And families often stick together here in America just as they do in Collectivist cultures. However, I don't think American military pilots would volunteer to go down in flames on purpose. I'm not making any sort of a judgment here on whether one culture is better than another. I'm simply pointing out a cultural difference, seen clearly in the kamikaze pilot's choice to sacrifice their lives for a larger cause. What intrigues me about the Japanese people is while their culture was bound by strict rules of polite social etiquette and rich historical traditions, they were at the same time fierce fighters-the Shoguns, Samurai and kamikazes being examples of this.
I've always loved the Japanese people. When I was in High School we had a Japanese exchange student who stayed for about a week with us. What I remember most about Mitsuki was how ultra-polite she was, and how grateful she was for every little thing we did for her. I remember she was crazy for hamburgers. She thought it was amusing, giggling often when I'd frankly speak out as American teenagers do. I also remember noting how different our cultures were. I liked Mitsumi, even though she seemed extremely shy, and she and I exchanged letters for a few months after she'd returned to Japan. I wondered what Mitsumi said to her parents about my family and the brash American culture after she'd returned home. I would have loved to be a fly on the wall during that conversation. I bet she also commented on how different our cultures were (only very politely).
I made the off-hand remark today to my publisher that I was going to "kamikaze it" all the way with my newest book, Once The Storm Is Over. What I meant was that I'm pulling out all the stops-that I was willing to do whatever it took to make it a success. I'm sure she understood what I meant. But then I really got to thinking about what I'd said. Was I really willing to kamikaze it? It sounds brave to say it, but to do it is a whole different thing. I chuckled at myself. A 50-year-old counselor swearing to be a kamikaze-what a ludicrous idea! But isn't there something in all of us that yearns, just once in our lives, to be courageous and fearless for a cause? Isn't that what the Superman and Spiderman hero worship is all about? Isn't that why my brother and his son take martial art lessons when in truth they wouldn't hurt a fly? I believe we do these things because there's something in every one of us, regardless of our culture, that keeps ripping our shirts off to expose the big "S" on our chests. There's something in the human spirit which urges us to be bigger, pushing us to take a stand for something-to be a hero, if only in a quiet way...like the Japanese kamikaze.
Saying I'm going to live like a kamikaze is a lot to live up to. It means I'm not going to whine and complain, and I'm not going to feel sorry for myself (which I really like doing). When I feel afraid, I'm going to have face that insecure part of me, and "suck it up." Most of all it means I'm going to be whole-heartedly courageous and ask for what I want from life. Not many of us do that. We wind up "dummying down" so others won't judge us, and "avoiding the limelight" so we're not the object of criticism. We make excuses for why we don't live full-throttle, and even while we criticize those who do, we secretly admire them for their chutzpah. Being a modern-day kamikaze means throwing caution to the wind; being willing to reach and risk for what I want, even if in the end I might crash and burn. That's the chance you take if you want to be a kamikaze.
The word kamikaze means, "spirit wind." I suppose that's what the kamikaze's had to find within themselves if they were going to walk into the fire and never return: the wind of the Spirit, giving them enough courage to defy their fear. All of us are a little like the kamikazes, who came into this world to show one another a breathtaking kind of courage, and to defy our fears. If we live life in this way, we may crash and burn, but nobody will be able to say about us that we didn't live whole-heartedly. And isn't that what legends are made of? You crazy kamikaze, you.
To see all of Nina's books: http://www.amazon.com/Nina-Bingham/e/B008XEX2Z0
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