Here Comes the Sun: A Journey to Adoption in 8 Chakras by Leza Lowitz

Title: Here Comes the Sun: A Journey to Adoption in 8 Chakras
Author: Leza Lowitz
Publication: Stone Bridge Press (June 30, 2015)
Summary: At 30, Californian Leza Lowitz is single and traveling the world, which suits her just fine. Coming of age in Berkeley during the feminist revolution of the 1970s, she learned that marriage and family could wait. Or could they? 

When Leza moves to Japan and falls in love with a Japanese man, her heart opens in ways she never thought possible. But she’s still an outsider, and home is far away. Rather than struggle to fit in, she opens a yoga studio and makes a home for others. Then, at 44, Leza and her Japanese husband seek to adopt—in a country where bloodlines are paramount and family ties are almost feudal in their cultural importance. She travels to India to work on herself and back to California to deal with her past. Something is still not complete until she learns that when you give a little love to a child, you get the whole world in return.

The author’s deep connection to yoga shows her that infertile does not mean inconceivable. By adapting and adopting, she transcends her struggles and embraces the joys of motherhood.

What I Think

I'm not massively into memoirs as I prefer fiction to non-fiction, but what appealed about Leza Lowitz's Here Comes the Sun: A Journey to Adoption in 8 Chakras was that it is set in Japan (and I always love reading about different people and cultures) and it is about a couple's journey to adoption, something which I know relatively little about but am very interested in. 

Lowitz writes: 

"In Japan, there's a word for empty space, like the white around a haiku on the page, the blank canvas on the top of a scroll of calligraphy, or the void between rocks in the ocean where sacred rope is strung. It's called ma, written as the sun seen through a gate. It is also the universal name for Mother. Ma..."

I feel that this book encompasses three love stories. The first is with Shogo, a man who lets her be herself and quietly sweeps her off her feet. 

The second love story is with yoga. "I fall in love with yoga as I fell in love with Shogo." Yoga is something I have tried in the past and failed at. My body is not flexible enough and my mind won't make my body keep trying. Lowitz, however, shows far more dedication and through yoga she tries to break down the walls she has built around herself. "I dive deeper into my yoga. I sweep my arms overhead, open my heart, and salute the sun. I imagine bringing in light, joy, contentment."

And the final love story is with her child. Leza Lowitz's account of her journey to adoption is brutally honest. "In my body," she writes, "the center was empty when it should have been full. [...] Everywhere I turn, I see pregnant women - mothers pushing strollers, shopping, talking absent-mindedly on their cell phones as their kids throw tantrums. What I wouldn't give for a screaming child, I think. I try not to wallow or judge, but I fail." I had no idea what level of commitment is needed to adopt a child, especially in Japan. When Shogo and Leza were finally successful, it brought tears to my eyes. 

This woman's account of the ups and downs of her life will always stay with me and I hope that if you read it, it has a similar effect on you. 

About the Author

Leza Lowitz’s memoir about her journey to motherhood over two oceans, two decades, and two thousand yoga poses, Here Comes the Sun: A Journey to Adoption in 8 Chakras, comes out soon.

Her books Yoga Poems: Lines to Unfold By, Sacred Sanskrit Words (w/Reema Datta) and Jet Black & The Ninja Wind (w/ Shogo Oketani) are amazon best-sellers. She’s written for The New York Times, Yoga Journal, Shambhala Sun, Best Buddhist Writing, The Huffington Post, and The Japan Times. 


Her YA verse novel, Up from the Sea, is forthcoming from Crown/Penguin Random House. 


Website: www.lezalowitz.com

Friday Flash Fiction - week 22!

A Thousand Memories

And there he was. After fifteen years he was different, of course; more grey than not, beard gone, eyes bordered by wrinkles, but the man I’d had a child with all those years ago was essentially the same. 

It seemed completely wrong to be watching him through the large windows of an Oxford tearoom. Reading the paper, he drank every few seconds from a flowered cup on a matching saucer. A plate with crumbs and a crumpled white napkin was in front of him. Why was he here? Were we supposed to meet? 

As I pulled away, he looked up and our eyes met. It can only have been seconds, but it seemed as if a thousand memories flashed before my eyes; of Sophia, of him, and of David, the man who took me a my daughter on and gave us a home and a life together. 

I ran. Down the crowded street, pushing and shoving people with my bags. I ran until the cold air had reached the bottom of my lungs and left me breathless. I ducked into an alcove and waited. For minutes I waited to see if he'd followed me and a wave of sadness washed over me when I realised he hadn't. Of course not. He didn't care now, as he didn't care then.  

L. Besley

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Flash Fiction diary

This is part three of the mini series involving David, Karen and Sophia. Each has been written from a different person's perspective and tells a different part of their story. Each piece should be a standalone piece, but if you're interested in the previous pieces click here for Confessions (week 1) and here for Numb (week 2). 

Took part in the CAKE.shortandsweet Wednesday Write-In again this week. Prompts: paperback, bounce, crushing, liquor, root. First draft quite different from final. Click here to read Darkness.

Had my first book reviews published in TIME OUT HONG KONG this week. Very excited to be a part of that team! Unfortunately you can't see them online, you'll just have to buy a copy (if you're in Hong Kong, that is)!  

I've also stepped, rather gingerly, into the 21st century and have set up a twitter account! If you'd like to follow me, I can be found bumbling my way through this technology @laurabesley 
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Flash Fiction is short enough to read whilst you're waiting for the kettle to boil. It's fairly quick to write too, but with it being so short, every word has to count. 

On 4th May 2012 I decided to embark on a project: to write a piece of Flash Fiction every day. I'm hoping this will keep the creative juices flowing and ultimately help me hone my craft. Every Friday I'll be posting 'the best of the week' onto my blog for you to read. If you have anything to say (good or 'constructive'!), I'm open to comments.  

Thanks, as always, for reading. 

Friday Flash Fiction - week 21!

Numb

I wiped the snot dripping from my nose with the back of my hand. 
“Sophia,” Mum said. “Use a tissue.” 
Really? Well, I guess it is rather rank. I reached over and pulled out a scented blue tissue and threw it in the bin. Dad hadn’t said a word and his silence was always the worst. Worse than Mum’s who could blow as hot as the desert or as cold as an ice cap in the space of seconds. 
“They’re right,” he whispered. 
“David!”
“What?”
“You can’t just drop a bombshell like that without any warning!”
“How much more warning does she need?” 
They’re right. I looked at the pair of them yelling at each other across the breakfast bar. I heard no words, only the crashing of their voices and the words floated around like autumn leaves in a storm. My head felt twice the size as normal and I let it drop behind me and rest on the cool kitchen tiles. They’re right. Does that mean what I think it means? 
And then, as if the wind stopped, the words dropped to the floor and there was silence. 
“Sophia,” Mum said. “What Dad’s trying to say is-”
“He’s not my real dad.” 
“Of course I’m your real dad. I’m just not your biological dad.” 
“Why did no-one tell me before?” My insides felt like ice and if I inhaled too deeply the ice will shatter into a million pieces. 
“It never seemed like the right time,” Mum said. “It’s still not the right time.” 
“Why didn’t you tell me before?” I looked at Dad. 
He answered slowly. “I was afraid you’d love me less and I couldn’t bear it.”  
“To be honest, I probably couldn’t love you any less at the moment.” 

***

Looking back I regretted those words and we’ve moved on, but things have never been the same. I guess they couldn’t, could they?

L. Besley

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Flash Fiction diary

For the first time I'm doing a mini series using the same characters and this is a follow-on piece from last week. The people who commented encouraged me to write 'the conversation' which was about to take place at the end of last week's FF. You should be able to read this as a standalone piece, but if you're interested in last week's piece, click here for Confessions. 

I've been doing a flash fiction online course with Calum Kerr for the last six weeks. Although it's been hard to fit it all in around my normal working week, it's been really interesting and I've learned a lot. 

I've also stepped, rather gingerly, into the 21st century and have set up a twitter account! If you'd like to follow me, I can be found bumbling my way through this technology @laurabesley 
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Flash Fiction is short enough to read whilst you're waiting for the kettle to boil. It's fairly quick to write too, but with it being so short, every word has to count. 

On 4th May 2012 I decided to embark on a project: to write a piece of Flash Fiction every day. I'm hoping this will keep the creative juices flowing and ultimately help me hone my craft. Every Friday I'll be posting 'the best of the week' onto my blog for you to read. If you have anything to say (good or 'constructive'!), I'm open to comments.  

Thanks, as always, for reading. 

Friday Flash Fiction - week 20!

Confessions

When I married a woman with a child by another man, I never expected it to turn out like this. Karen was twenty-eight when we married and her daughter, Sophia, three and a half. Sophia’s father, a sea captain for a big container shipping company had never seen his daughter. 

The first few years of our marriage were stressful. We bought a house and had two more children, both boys, all in the space of three years. Sophia, used to her mother’s sole attention, seemed to adapt well to the changes and thrived at school. Until, that was, she went to secondary school. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Tanner, please sit down.” The teacher was young, with short blond hair and piercing green eyes. I figured it wouldn’t be long before some girl would coax a wedding ring onto his hand. 
“Sophia is causing quite a stir, I’m afraid.” 
“But I don’t understand,” Karen blurted. “She’s always loved school.” 
I put my left hand on her knee. “Darling, let Mr. Thomas finish.” 
“She’s bright, that much is obvious, but she’s not interested. I’ve tried everything. Consulted more experienced colleagues,” a reddish hue appeared on his cheeks, “but everyone else is having the same problems.” 
“Why did no-one contact us before?” I ventured. 
“We’re only a few weeks into the new term. I wanted to see if she’d settled down. Starting at a new school can be quite stressful.” 
“I see,” I said. “What can we do?”
“Talk to her. Find out what’s going on. The more we can work together the better.” 

Driving home the sleet was bashing at the front windows of the car. Karen was staring out of the passenger window, and I noticed the silent tears run down her face. 
“We’ll sort it out,” I said.  

After dinner we asked Sophia to stay behind. 
“We’ve just been to the school,” I said. 
The colour from her face seeped away. “And?” 
“And what do you think?” Karen said, too loudly. 
I looked at Karen, then continued. “What your mother is trying to say is: the teachers think you’re struggling.”
“Well, I’m not.” The reply came quick and sharp. 
“They’re worried you,” I continued.   
“They said that?”
“Yes, and we’re worried too.” 
Sophia burst into tears. “I’ve…I haven’t got any friends.” 
“Why not?” Karen put her arms around her daughter. 
“They told me Dad isn’t my real dad, so I got into a fight with them and now they don’t talk to me anymore.” 
I had always wondered when the right time would be for this conversation, but this is certainly not how I’d envisioned it.

L. Besley

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Flash Fiction diary

I've reached over 10,000 hits on my blog - thanks to everyone for your continuing support! 

I took part in the Wednesday Write-in at CAKE.shortandsweet again this week. We were given 5 prompts (benefit, lollipop, grip, hardwood, glaze) and you could use as many as you like, or just take inspiration from them, and write a piece of flash fiction. Click here for On Foreign Shores. 

I had my second article published on the The Unofficial Blog for Brit Writers and Writers Everywhere! Click here to read Social Media - Friend or Foe? 

I've also stepped, rather gingerly, into the 21st century and have set up a twitter account! If you'd like to follow me, I can be found bumbling my way through this technology @laurabesley 
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Flash Fiction is short enough to read whilst you're waiting for the kettle to boil. It's fairly quick to write too, but with it being so short, every word has to count. 

On 4th May 2012 I decided to embark on a project: to write a piece of Flash Fiction every day. I'm hoping this will keep the creative juices flowing and ultimately help me hone my craft. Every Friday I'll be posting 'the best of the week' onto my blog for you to read. If you have anything to say (good or 'constructive'!), I'm open to comments.  

Thanks, as always, for reading. 

Friday Flash Fiction - Week 16!

Gemini

Room 1

“Here you are, dear.” A petit woman with heavy-rimmed glasses handed over a sheet of yellowed paper.

“This is what it all comes down to?” Evelyn said, gently taking the piece of paper from the woman behind the desk.

“Yes, dear. Now I’m going to leave you here. Take as much time as you need.”

Birth mother	Penelope Wilson
Birth father	Unknown
Date of birth	May 28th 1970
Time of birth	7:35pm
Place of birth	John Radcliff Hospital, Oxford
Name of adoption parents	Valerie and John Farrow

 

Room 2

“Can I just ask for the record why you’ve chosen to look for your birth parents?” Peter asked from behind a desk.

“I’m getting married,” Tim replied.

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks. My girlfriend, I mean fiancée, and I are both adopted.”

“I see,” Peter said, jotting the information down with a fountain pen. “Well, here you are. I’m going to leave the room. Take as much time as you need.”

“Thanks, mate.”

Birth mother	Penelope Wilson
Birth father	Unknown
Date of birth	May 28th 1970
Time of birth	7:15pm
Place of birth	John Radcliff Hospital, Oxford
Name of adoption parents	Paula and David Hersham

L. Besley

Today is the Day

Today is the day, Samantha thought to herself as she carefully dressed in skinny grey jeans and an electric blue shirt. She’d already blow-dried her shoulder-length blond hair and straightened it. She never wore make-up, but did apply a dab of cherry-red lip gloss. Yes, she thought again, today is the day.

Across the cathedral city James was walking towards the pub at the top end of the cobbled high street. He and Samantha had been there a handful of times, but tonight he could feel his stomach churning. He pushed open the heavy door and was hit by the sound of a cacophony of clinking glasses, voices and music. Amidst the chaos, he managed to order a drink and walked to a table near the back, under a painting by a local artist of the nearby harbour.

Samantha immediately saw him and smiled subconsciously at his lopsided haircut that his housemate had done for him and the familiar green polo shirt. Drink in hand she walked over to where he was sitting.

“Hey,” she said, sliding into the seat opposite him. “How are you?”
“All good! You?” 
She pushed a few strands of hair behind her ear. “Fine thanks.” 
“You know…” he said.
“Yes?”
“I think…”
“Yes?”
“Well…”
“James! Just ask me.” 
“You’ll say yes?”
“Of course!” 
“Thank God!” He breathed a sigh of relief and took her hand. “I’m so pleased.” 

L. Besley

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Flash Fiction diary

Last week was a bit of an experiment, so a big thank you to everyone who voted! It was almost a unanimous vote, so I hope you enjoyed ending A. I've deliberately left it open, so you can decide for yourself what happened! 

This week's Flash Fiction is also a little experimental in style. Feel free to let me know what you think and whether it worked for you. 

This week I was a guest blogger on Leela Devi Panikar's blog, with a piece of Flash Fiction.  Click here to read Moving On. 

I've also started a 6-week online Flash Fiction course with Calum Kerr. I'm really excited to be learning more about this style of writing. 

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Flash Fiction is short enough to read whilst you're waiting for the kettle to boil. It's fairly quick to write too, but with it being so short, every word has to count. 

On 4th May 2012 I decided to embark on a project: to write a piece of Flash Fiction every day. I'm hoping this will keep the creative juices flowing and ultimately help me hone my craft. Every Friday I'll be posting 'the best of the week' onto my blog for you to read. If you have anything to say (good or 'constructive'!), I'm open to comments.  

Thanks, as always, for reading.