In early April of 1998 while driving
cross-country on my first visit to the Peace Pilgrim Center in Hemet,
I found myself outside of Lincoln, Nebraska on a cold, gray, rainy afternoon.
I was looking for Don Tilly and the Prairie Peace Park, a 28 acre teaching
center dedicated to peace.
I had met Don in New Jersey a week earlier and was taking him up on
an invitation to visit on my way west. I pulled up to the gate of the
Peace Park as it was getting dark. Don took me to dinner at a nearby
restaurant and we returned for a tour. The rain and darkness prohibited
a visit to the outdoor attractions so we walked slowly through the rooms
of the main building as Don explained the significance of the various
displays.
One story in particular captured my attention. It was about a Japanese
girl named Sadako Sasaki. Sadako was two years old and a resident of
Hiroshima when the first atomic bomb used on a civilian population was
dropped on that city on August 6, 1945. When she was eleven, Sadako
developed leukemia a common disease among children exposed to atomic
radiation.
While being treated in the hospital, Sadako was visited by a friend
who taught her to fold paper origami cranes. An old Japanese legend
stated that anyone who folded 1000 cranes would be granted a wish. In
Japan the crane is symbolic of long life, health, and peace. Sadako’s
wish was to be returned to good health and beyond that that all children
who innocently suffer from the consequences of war would be healed and
that in the future no children should so suffer. Inspired to realize
this dream, Sadako began her quest to fold 1000 cranes.
In the following months Sadako managed to fold over 600 cranes. But
her disease gradually worsened and finally claimed her life. Her classmates,
inspired by her courage, folded the remainder and she was buried with
1000 origami cranes. The story of Sadako’s quest and courage spread
all over Japan and children throughout the country folded “Peace
Cranes” and raised money to build a children’s memorial
in the Hiroshima Peace Park. In 1958, three years after her death, the
monument became a reality. It shows Sadako standing on the mountain
of paradise holding a giant golden origami crane overhead in her outstretched
arms. At its base is the inscription, “This is our cry, this is
our prayer, Peace in the World.”
I had never heard this story before but was deeply moved by it and fascinated
by the delicate paper cranes. Don kindly let me unroll my sleeping bag
on the floor in a room not far from the Sadako display and I spent the
night safe and dry as the cold rain fell in the darkness outside.
The next morning I continued west across Nebraska. The clouds had begun
to break up and light slowly began to seep back into the wet landscape
as I traveled through the rolling grasslands bordering the North Platte
River. I was surprised to notice some large birds standing in the fields
along the highway. As I drove on into the morning, the flocks grew larger
and larger until these tall gray birds with huge wingspans and red spots
at the top of their heads filled the fields and the sky.
In the midst of my amazement at this awesome sight, the memory of a
news story heard a few weeks earlier came to mind. It had described
a major migration that was taking place in the American west –
that of the Sandhill Crane. With a rush of association that brought
goose bumps to my arms and a tingle to the back of my neck, I connected
the story I had heard the night before with the spectacle unfolding
around me. Over the next 150 mile I drove by as many as 50,000 migrating
Sandhill Cranes who flew Sadako’s story across the Nebraska sky.
I felt I was receiving a great blessing and have since thought of it
as my “Gift of Cranes.”
But the story doesn’t end here. The next chapter unfolded about
two weeks later when I arrived at the Peace Pilgrim Center in Hemet,
California. One of the very first things I noticed when I entered the
house was a large bowl of paper origami cranes sitting on the kitchen
table and almost immediately after that discovered a copy of the book
“Sadako and the 1000 Cranes” on top of a pile in the front
room. That tingle was back in my neck.
I read the book immediately and a few days later met the woman who had
folded the cranes and had her teach me how to create them myself. I
have since tried to fold at least one crane every day, and think of
each as a “prayer for peace”. I have had the great pleasure
of passing along these messengers of peace as I travel and enjoy sharing
the story of my “gift” and teaching others the magic of
turning squares of paper into delicate origami cranes.
In early 1999 I discovered a website about a grammar school in Hiroshima
that sponsored a yearly “cranes for peace” project. Working
with a group of children and adults at my local church, I told the story
of Sadako and gave instructions in folding origami cranes. Over the
course of the next few months, our group folded cranes and strung them
in groups of 100 until we had collected 1000. These were sent to the
school in Japan and joined 87,000 others from all over the world that
were brought to the Children’s Peace Memorial in the first week
of August as part of the school’s annual peace ceremony.
I have since completed a personal 1000 origami cranes. They hang, for
now, in the sanctuary of the church I attend in Connecticut. But I have
other plans for them. On December 12th of this year, 2001 people will
gather in Hiroshima to pray for peace. I plan to be there with my cranes.
They and I will complete a journey that began over two years ago: one
that will take them home to the source of their inspiration. To rest,
at last, in the shadow of the statue of Sadako - a young Japanese girl
I never knew – who changed my life on a rainy night in the middle
of Nebraska.
 
| Children's
Peace Memorial- Hiroshima |
1000
Origami Cranes |
|
