A priest with a clue  − 1 September, 1990

You know, in America, everybody wants to pour out their heart on Oprah or some equivalent. You see a person who's obviously up a tree in the midst of a major decision and the first instinct is to try to pry out the gory details. We're taught that all deeply felt emotion and angst should be shared socially, lest we be labeled anti-social.

Well during the few weeks when I knew I loved her but didn't know whether it would work out, I was really up a tree. I was in a foreign country, dealing with all this emotion, and was stuck in south Osaka where you could count the number of blades of grass and still have fingers and toes left over. My Japanese apartment was smaller than I could bear and the only place that had a real swatch of green was Nunose Shrine, a shinto temple that was really a small wooden hutch that had an original tree from before the war.

One night not so late, I couldn't take the four walls of my apartment thinking about her so I went to the shrine to find a hole of green among the concrete. After some hours under that tree, the resident priest started walking over to me. I stiffened instinctively at the sight of the priest, who actually spoke decent English.

"I've got to close the temple right now" he said. "But you've got something important on your mind and need this tree. Stay as long as you like but when you leave, please exit through the rear door which will lock behind you." With that, he went back toward the small building to change into his regular clothes.

Wow, I thought. What a perceptive person on all levels.