Michael James Wong - Senbazuru: Small Steps to Hope, Healing and Happiness

For my mother,
who gave me
wings to fly

In honour of Sadako,
who inspired hope
with a single fold

I wish you well on this wandering path, because I am excited for the road that lies ahead of you in the pages that will unfold.

As you begin all I ask is that you go forth gently, do not rush to make your way to the end as there is nothing gained by arriving so quickly. And within the book, you may find many things that inspire your way, and if you are here to fold paper, I will share with you the techniques to folding your first paper crane.

But do not stop there, as there is much more to discover if you are willing to wander further, and throughout the book you will find many short stories and gentle wisdoms to encourage you along the path to a meaningful life. This is the journey of one thousand steps to happiness. There are also many beautiful illustrations you will find amongst the pages of the book, each one hand painted by my dear friend Niki, her beautiful brush strokes a gift to help inspire the words of each gentle wisdom within. As you find them hidden throughout the pages, take a moment to pause and appreciate when you are there, notice what you notice and feel what you feel, this too is an important part of this mindful practice.

If you have the time, I would invite you to start here and read on, each chapter is purposeful and if read in its entirety the journey can be powerful. But if you would prefer to wander a different way, simply open to any page, and wherever you are, there you will be.

I would also ask that you do not treat this book as sacred, it is not meant to be left unscathed; open it, feel the pages, the texture of the paper is dense and purposeful so do not be shy to fold the corners either. A book is meant to be a meaningful conversation, so do not hesitate to mark the pages so that you may remember them for later.

When writing this book it was important for me to share this beautiful practice. One that has inspired my life and wellbeing. Know that the stories within are my own, the way that these traditions were passed down to me, and what I have learned along my way. And while these stories are mine, the practice of folding paper belongs to us all.

And I would also like you to know that this book is for everyone, whether you are eight or eighty-eight, young in age or young at heart. I would encourage you to read together and enjoy it with others, either out loud or in quiet company, and when you are finished perhaps pass it along so that this conversation may grow, for there is so much joy to be found when we can share the practice of folding paper together.

But if you would rather read alone, know that this too is a beautiful path, one that will unfold in time, and I am here if you need me, but I am sure you will find your way.

Mindfulness is the art of living in the moment, the willingness to slow down and become completely present, on purpose, without judgement, as each moment unfolds.

Folding paper is a beautiful practice of mindfulness, if you allow it to be.

This is the gift of Senbazuru.

In Japan, the paper crane is a symbol of peace, hope and healing. Considered the bird of happiness, this mystical and majestic creature is believed to live for a thousand years and, according to tradition, if a person were to fold one thousand paper cranes in a single year, they would be granted a single wish, one that could bring good fortune, eternal luck, long life and happiness.

The undertaking of folding one thousand cranes is no small task; courage, dedication and purpose is required. Every fold is deliberate and considerate, each crane inspired and resilient. It is a journey of hope, commitment and exploration, forgiveness and, in the end, joy.

Through folding one thousand paper cranes it is believed that we discover our own path to heal the soul and find true happiness.

It was perfectly quiet when Koa stepped out of the house. It was very early, so the street lamps that stood guard outside her home were still wide awake, smiling and chatting away with the others that lined the street. Good morning, Miss Koa, they said as she passed them by, each one bowing deeply as she made her way towards the end of the road. Good morning to you too, sir, she whispered back as she scurried up the hill.

It was Monday, visiting day, and each week she would wake long before the rising sun and head to the hospital to visit her grandfather, who had been a guest there for some time now. Koa was only eight years old, but she would make this trip alone, as her parents worked long hours and so in the mornings they would sleep in until after sunrise before heading back to the factories. Her brother, Bailey, was too young to make the trip, so he, too, stayed behind.

As she started her journey towards the train station at the top of the hill, a trip she had taken many times before, she began to pick up her pace; the train left at 4.55 each morning and she knew she wouldnt make it if she didnt hurry.

I cant miss the boarding call, she whispered to herself as she hurried along. If only she had left the house just two minutes earlier, she would not be in such a predicament. She would later scold herself for her inefficiency. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone to check she had already paid for her ticket. Not doing so had caused delays in the past, and proper etiquette, as they were taught in school, was to always be prepared for whats next.

But then she remembered something her grandfather used to say when they went for their you and me walks yumi, as he would call them. During these wanders, Grandfather would walk painfully slowly, stopping many times to look up at the sky, for he enjoyed watching the wandering clouds. He would say, Clouds never rush, yet they always arrive, so why should we? Koa did not agree with many of his funny sayings; she thought they were fantasies of his aging mind. But she missed these moments dearly, and remembered them fondly.

In reality, it did not matter if she missed the first train, since a second one would be along a few minutes later and both stopped just outside the hospital, so either would get her to her destination on time. But for Koa, that was not the point: efficiency was everything. Visiting hours began at 7 a.m., and Koa prided herself on always being the first one through the door. Other visitors who knew her would often let her pass to the front of the queue, if only to help appease her ambitious mind.

As she reached the station, the train was waiting on the platform. It had stayed a few moments longer today to ensure she was on board. It was kindness like this that helped to soothe her anxious soul and made the journey ahead easier to manage. As she climbed the last stair on to the platform clearing she took a moment to zip her jacket up tight; the windows on the train had lots of cracks in them, so a chilly draught would often blow through the carriage. It took two hours and two minutes exactly to get into town and, during this time, she would look out of the window as the world sped by: a litany of cement monoliths and towering ascents dwarfed the hustling ants that scurried below. She very much enjoyed this time on the train, and some days she secretly wished the ride would never end; it was the fastest she had ever gone in her life and she knew that someday soon, when Grandfather returned home, she would no longer have these adventures.