What My Papa Taught Me? Seiichi Miyao - 12-12-1937 – 12-06-2022

At a quarter to midnight on December 6, my papa passed away in the presence of my mom and sister. Saying goodbye to him via FaceTime was one of the saddest moments of my life. I told him that I loved him -- that it was okay for him to go. I was hoping to say it all in person one last time, but he passed away on my way to the airport.

He was a unique man who followed his path and created his own conventions. He instilled in me a value system that I practice today, grounded in techniques to be present and live a full life. He was adventurous, which may surprise some who knew him, and he had a tremendous work ethic.

As I think about his life lessons, I’ve tried to distill his ethos into three core themes:

1. He created initiatives he believed in, approaching life with focus and determination

2. He was passionate about health, in particular

3. He was a student, and a teacher, of philosophy.

How did he become that way? In families, we tend to think most about the roles our loved ones play: He was a husband to my mom Heidi; a father to me and my sister Hanako; a grandfather to Sebastian, Emil, Kade, and Friedrich. But what else shaped his own, unique identity?

Seiichi Miyao was born just before the beginning of World War II. His mother was a loving and caring woman; his father was a traditional stoic Japanese man who had served two tours in China and built a sock business from nothing in the rubble of post-war Japan. This dichotomy -- of love and stern stoicism – defined my papa’s personality. On the one hand, he deeply cared for us, for the patients he treated in his acupuncture practice, and for his community. On the other hand, he didn't talk about love or feelings. He thought of such sentimental expressions as "mendokusai" – loosely translated as unnecessary can’t be bothered. I confronted him once in my early twenties and called out his seeming indifference.

“You never told me that you loved me,” I said with anger.

My Papa replied, profoundly hurt, that all he had ever done was for our family and me.

“I don’t have to tell you; my actions communicate my love, not my words,” he said.

Mendokusai.

He wasn’t always stern. He could also be funny and tickled by idioms in other languages. On one of his last trips to the US, he asked Sienna and me what the difference was between a “greasy spoon” and a “hole in the wall” restaurant.

This love of idioms came from his travels, and his adventurous side. While in his late twenties, during the early sixties, he took the Trans-Siberian railroad from Beijing to Moscow, when very few had ever been to these parts of the world. Though Japan was an extremely homogeneous, society, especially back then, he was deeply interested in other cultures and went out of his way to meet and befriend foreigners. He even married one.

My mom, also an adventurer, had moved to Japan from Germany and was taking Japanese classes when she spotted one of the other teachers. She decided that this handsome man had to be her teacher. The classes were a huge success, not so much in her learning Japanese, but because they fell for each other. A year later, they got married. Nine months after that, I was born.

In 1975, my papa went on the ultimate adventure and moved to Germany, a strange land where he didn't speak the language or know the culture and their people. Where few had heard of eastern medicine, let alone acupuncture. My dad slowly built his practice, and my mom helped by translating for him. The initial years were tough, but he worked hard to establish himself and was able to provide for his family.

He also treated us when we were sick. We rarely went to a doctor. Health was so important that everything my parents did was through that lens. We only had healthy foods, and as a kid, I felt like they were depriving me of all the good foods my friends ate, such as McDonald's, fish sticks, and soda.

Over the years, he improved his craft, and even created his own acupuncture technique. Patients came from all over Germany to have him treat them. Naturopathic practitioners encouraged him to start teaching acupuncture and his approach to it. His impact on them was enormous; many continue to carry his legacy of healing patients.

So far from home, he needed to build a community for himself and for the other Japanese people who started to live in Munich. He co-founded the Munich Japan Club, which became the leading Japanese cultural society in the city. He helped found the Japanese school, a women's group, and a choir and organized a Japanese softball league.

He was not the most athletic, but he loved to watch and play sports – specifically sumo and baseball. He continually learned new things and taught himself, in his forties, to ski and play tennis. I fondly look back to our summers playing tennis and the times he took me and my friend Daniel skiing in the Bavarian and Austrian alps in the winter.

Life was not always easy, and this inspired him to try to find answers to it. He embraced a non-denominational life philosophy based on the major religions of the east and west. He meditated daily and shared his insights in a monthly seminar with a group of people.

He taught me the importance of meditation and conveyed many core philosophical concepts that are still important to me today.

He taught me that we don't have control over much of what happens in life. And that it doesn’t make sense to worry about things outside our control.

He taught me that attaching or clinging to expectations, material items, and passing states of being is often a cause of frustration, disappointment, and pain.

He taught me to celebrate the idea of change and that everything is impermanent. Life as we know it is constantly changing. We can never access the moment that just passed, nor can we ever replicate it.

I always felt like I was so different from my father, but as I think about the man my father was, we are very similar, and I am so grateful for that.

Thank you, papa, for teaching me to be adventurous. Like you, I moved abroad, married a woman from a different country, and raised children in a culture very different than my own.

Like you, I learned the value of working hard, leading me to become an entrepreneur.

Like you, I love to learn new things, continuously.

You taught me the importance of seeking out community and making connections, prioritizing my health, teaching others when I have something to share, and looking for the answers to life through philosophy.

Thank you, I am deeply grateful. I know you think it is “mendokusai” for me to say it, but I love you, and you will always be part of me.