.
I was thinking recently about my reference to Zen in a previous Layer which mentions the importance of laughter in the spiritual life:
This week Yoko told me about a meeting she went to with colleagues, in the course of which she made a joke and cracked everybody up. It seems she’s normally not at all given to making amusing comments in business meetings, and therefore her professorial colleagues, predominantly middle-aged men in spite of it being a women’s university, were very surprised by her humour, and it seems laughed quite a lot.
She suggested it was because of my recent influence that she uncharacteristically slipped in a humourous remark during the staff meeting- “You are always laughing and making jokes.”
Well I don’t know about ‘always’, and I certainly don’t tell jokes, as such. But it’s true that I find a lot to laugh about in this crazy world, and therefore on a good day I’m inclined towards the sardonic and laconic, and indeed ironic. And satirical.
It’s quite hard to resist pointing out the absurd and the ridiculous since it’s all around us all of the time. People are so often ludicrous and foolish in their behaviour. So what are we supposed to do about it, except laugh? It would be a pretty dull old world without laughter. But it’s amazing how many people have had a humour by-pass.
Of course people get upset if they know someone’s laughing at them, so we should try not to offend, and try to avoid causing anyone any grief, whenever possible. It’s also important to be able to laugh at yourself.
When I think back to my school days I remember having to be careful about commenting on the pompous and puffed-up behaviour of teachers. They really hate what they consider to be subversive elements among the pupils - those who like to hang out at the back and mutter asides to one another to help overcome the tedium and pointlessness of traditional lessons.
But if it’s in your blood and your character then I suppose it’s always going to crop up, even in adult professional life. It’s just a Zen thing. It was only a while back that I recall setting my friend Pete off on a fit of the giggles as we were listening to some dry as dust hyperfeminist droning on at a conference. What did it on that day was my cartoon-like doodle/sketch of our aesthetically challenged speaker. I guess it can happen in a number of ways on any day, in any situation.
I suppose it’s been said many times that humour is the best means for the powerless to deflate the powerful, usually by pointing out that these little emperors and would-be dictators have no clothes at all.
Mainly, though, it’s the human condition that’s funny. But just because life is ultimately pointless and our pretensions and desires are absurd doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy life, providing we go about it in the right spirit.
The right spirit involves generosity and compassion, and an enlightened attitude, as far as possible. The first step entails admitting we’re not enlightened, and setting out on the right path towards such a state.
The wonderful thing about the Zen monks I’ve come across, and about spiritually intelligent people generally, is that they’re not po-faced, and don’t take themselves and life in general too seriously. Laughter is important.
What they do take seriously is the need to find, and to remain on, the right path.
Taoists call it the “Tao” - the Way. Zen calls it the “Do”.
---------------------------------------------------------
This week we went to visit the Myoshin-ji temple complex, which is a huge incredible oasis of peace and beauty near the centre of Kyoto. This “Temple of the Wondrous Mind” is the headquarters of the largest of the fourteen schools of Japanese Rinzai Zen Buddhism, and was established in 1337.
Its excellent website can be visited at www.zen.rinnou.net/head_temples/01myoshin
Look out for the photo of the horned dragon painting, which covers the entire ceiling of its huge lecture hall. It’s a phenomenal piece of art, which apparently took years to complete. It’s the Sistene Chapel of Zen.
“The purpose of Zen is to awaken to the bodhisattva within us. This perception, also called kensho, ‘seeing self-nature’, opens the way to a true Zen life lived in unrestricted liberation. To attain such freedom, one must strive in all of one’s activities to live in accordance with the Bodhisattva Vows:
Sentient beings are numberless: I vow to liberate them.
Desires are inexhaustible: I vow to end them.
The Dharma gates are infinite: I vow to master them.
The Buddha way is unsurpassable. I vow to attain it.
----------------------------------------------------------
I was just too stubborn
To ever be governed
By enforced insanity . . .
Someone had to reach for the rising star
I guess it was up to me.
Bob Dylan - Up To Me
From Blood on the Tracks
In Japan, as in Germany, nobody crosses a road if the pedestrian light is red, regardless of whether there’s a car in the vicinity. It’s just how they do things here. Rules are rules.
There are rigid expectations regarding social proprieties and what’s considered proper behaviour. Unfortunately it really raises my hackles when someone tells me that I SHOULD or shouldn’t do this or that.
It’s fair enough when someone says “this is the way we normally do things here” or “this is what people generally expect in such and such a situation”, in which case I might just say, “Oh really - well it’s not the way I do things” or “fair enough, but it’s not that way in the culture I’m familiar with.”
I hate cultural absolutism, and any attempt to impose cultural norms that I don’t subscribe to. I particularly hate rules and expectations that are plainly ludicrous and without logic or even sense.
Japan is a wonderful country in so many ways, but in the long run I suspect I’d grow weary of the prevailing conservatism and dogmatism. I reckon I’d end up like one of those warrior monks who just said ‘fuck you’ to authority, and retire to a mountain top, real or metaphorical, to do my own thing in the company of people who see life the way I do.
Sadly for the warrior monks of Kyoto they all got wiped out by a particularly vicious and nasty warlord and his army, who eventually took violent exception to their lack of respect, their autonomy and their rebelliousness. C’est la vie. C’est la morte. A few years later the monastery and the temples were rebuilt and the community re-established, and the warlord met with his just deserts.
The mistake the warrior monks made, I suspect, was in making themselves and their community too obviously a threat to the established authority. Governors and governments hate those who have an alternative vision of how to live. The lesson to be learned is that in order to be an enlightened free spirit you have to appear as ordinary and unthreatening as possible, whilst getting on with life as you see fit.
In a way it pains me to say such a thing - to admit that a quietist and pacifist attitude might be for the best - since I hate injustice and oppression, and ideally I’d like to see despotism and injustice overthrown, forcibly if necessary. The problem is that those who do the overthrowing tend to set up their own despotic regimes once they gain power. Ultimately the only road to freedom and justice is through individual enlightenment and refusal to use force or violence as a means to an end, no matter how just the cause.
------------------------------------------------
From the website:
Sitting in meditation is known as zazen in the Zen School, with za meaning ‘sit’ and zen meaning ‘meditation’. The seated posture is one of stillness and relaxation, and expresses a tranquil mind and a settled body. The state is one of union of body and mind, deepened through the relaxation and regulation of the breath.
Meditative practice brings about a non-dualistic state of consciousness through the deep harmonisation of body, breath and mind, a state of unification and profound stillness known as Samadhi.
Although profoundly still, Samadhi is not a state of passivity, unconsciousness or trance. The stillness of Samadhi is vibrant and dynamic, arising from a mind that is completely clear, aware, and open. In this state of awareness the ordinary world is seen in a new light, in which the unexamined ‘common sense’ view of a dualistic world is transcended and the underlying unity of all existence is clearly experienced.
Zen is not a system of defined beliefs, but a path to clarity and awareness. As such it has no conflicts with science, and can enrich the inner life of followers of any religious tradition. All are welcome. From wherever one enters, the path to the bodhisattva mind unfolds.
This may make it sound like Zen has no clear goal, but that is not the case. One is free to enter the path to ‘seeing the bodhisattva within’ from whatever gate one wishes, but the ultimate objective is the same: to attain liberation, then to help others according to their needs to attain liberation themselves. This, in Buddhism, is know as bodhicitta, the mind that strives to seek enlightenment, and to awaken all sentient beings.
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Showing posts with label Kyoto. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kyoto. Show all posts
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Layer 144 Zen, the Blues, Religion and Philosophy.
.
Monday 6th April
I’ve lost all control of my Zen music player. It now has a mind all of its own, and all I can do is switch it on or off, and press ‘play’ or ‘pause’. But when cabled into the Kenwood hi-fi in my flat it randomly cranks out the 4 gigabytes of excellent sounds I copied into it last year.
This morning it decided to start gently with Louis Jordan’s “She liked to boogie real slow”, and then hammered straight into the Stones’ “Can’t you hear me knocking?” with that incredible riff that just grabs the attention by the scruff of the neck and doesn’t let go for the next seven minutes of guitar, vocals and sax magic - classic Keith Richards. Music you just have to stop everything for and rock to.
And then to move things on even higher and wilder it threw at me “Rattlesnake Shake” - 24 minutes of brilliant electric blues recorded when Peter Green was at the very peak of his creative genius, way back in the mid to late sixties when Fleetwood Mac were the best blues band on the planet, bar none. This track still grabs me now like it did then. The Blues is timeless and beyond any dictates of fashion, fad and fly-by-night style.
-------------------------------------------------
Last night I was strolling around in the dark up at Osaka Castle, taking photos of its floodlit exterior, enjoying the atmosphere of fellow sightseers amid the flowering cherry trees, and suddenly heard the unmistakable sound of a National resonator steel guitar having its fretboard caressed with a bottleneck slide. I was drawn like a magnet to a bench in the pitch blackness under some trees, where the player turned out to be a youngish Japanese guy sitting with his girlfriend.
We got into a conversation, and he then played and sang “Sweet Home Chicago” with great expertise and feeling, the bottleneck shimmering and sliding up and down that beautiful chromium instrument. Another moment of pure Zen, to add to the many I’d already experienced on the day’s excursions around the Horyu-ji temple complex outside of Nara.
It then turned out that the girlfriend had with her a ukelele, which she played to accompany a beautifully sung version of “Loving You (has made my life so beautiful)” The guy joined in with his National. La la la la la.
We asked them for some ideas about where to go in Osaka to listen to good music played live in a bar or club, and will follow up later in the week.
------------------------------
Korean-style eating consists of sitting around a bowl of blazing hot charcoal lumps set within a table and cooking your own meat pieces to your own preferences - rare, medium or charred. The high-tech version of this cooker utilises a stainless steel bowl that somehow blasts the coals with air to get them up to red-hot temperature really quickly whilst sucking out the smoke and fumes through holes around the rim of the bowl, located just below the surface of the table.
Korean Town in Osaka has a number of narrow streets, little more than alleyways, that are lined with tiny restaurants. The most popular ones have queues outside that contain more people than are seated in the restaurant. The less popular ones employ people to stand outside and drag in the tourists and passers-by.
Japanese people out dining and drinking with colleagues and friends are quite funny. Within a few sips of beer they can go from self-contained and self-restrained ultra-quiet and polite beings to something approaching pie-eyed raucousness and wild laughter.
----------------------------------------------------------
I’m starting to get my bearings, now that I’ve realised that the map I’ve been given has south at the top and north at the bottom. Last night I made my way home from Mukogawa station to my flat without a hitch.
I could use a day or so just to sit quietly and take in all that’s been happening - to review photos and videos and do some writing. That was my basic plan yesterday till Yoko phoned in the morning and said that since she’d been up and working since 5.00am she’d completed the essential work she needed to do and was free to take me out for some more cherry blossom and temple sightseeing. She’s amazing.
This afternoon I’m due to meet a colleague of hers who’s arriving from Tokyo. It will be interesting to find out what his interests are, and how well he speaks English. I’m extremely fortunate that Yoko speaks English as well as she does, so that I can ask her everything I need to know about this fascinating country.
This time around I feel I’m learning much more about the impact of post-war ‘westernisation’ on Japan and its people. The British may feel that the second world war was a traumatic event that changed our national way of life forever, but in fact cultural life continued much as it had previously, with a class system and a political, religious and military elite firmly in place despite the Labour landslide and the creation of a welfare state after the war. We still had the House of Lords and a monarchy, and indeed still do.
We have no real concept of what the Japanese people must have experienced - having had so many of their young men needlessly killed by the recklessness and expansionism of their ruling and warrior classes, whose hubris led them to attack the USA in the belief that their mighty warships and airforce could put an end to American expansionism and influence in the western Pacific.
We have no idea what it must have been like to have experienced attack with atomic weapons, and to have had so many cities flattened with conventional bombing and firestorms. We have no idea of the damaged caused to the national psyche by post-war occupation and domination by people of a completely alien culture, who then set about imposing their own cultural norms as much as they possibly could.
-----------------------------------------------------
Actually there is one other control I have over the Zen player - I can fast-forward over tracks I don’t want to listen to, and I can flick back to the beginning of the current track for a repeat. I’ve thereby just converted the 24 minute howling monster blues-fest that is Rattlesnake Shake into a 48 minute wall-vibrating extravaganza. Which was nice.
The Kenwood machine has a kind of exaggerated bass sound, so I’m noticing more than ever John McVie - the man who put the Mac into the Mac - how chunky and funky his bass-playing always was.
And now the sky is blue and the sun is shining and I must get out there. One of the delights of the little Zen, of course, is that it’s highly portable and goes everywhere. Just like the real thing.
--------------------------------------------------------
Yoko talked about ‘westernisation’ leading to the Japanese ‘losing’ their religion, or religions. Especially Shinto, which seems to have become pretty much the scapegoat for the actions of the Japanese ruling classes. Post-war defeat and trauma must have led to a wholesale loss of self-esteem and self-confidence, as far as the nation was concerned.
But also individuals. The nuclear bombs were the forerunner and the momma and poppa of ‘shock and awe’ - more a tactic for traumatising the enemy than any real wartime necessity, given that by the time those weapons were used, the Japanese navy and airforce were virtually destroyed.
It must be part of the Japanese psyche to show deference and obedience to rulers, regardless of whether they are legitimate, illegitimate or imposed by wartime defeat. But I still don’t understand the degree to which the American occupiers believed they had a right to treat the Japanese like a blank slate on which to write a new set of cultural norms, including the right to ban teaching and learning about Shinto and Buddhism in schools.
In my conversations with the post-grad students the other day I gathered they go along with the view that religion can’t even be mentioned in schools - even the basic precepts of, say, Buddhism, Christianity, Islam, etc.
Yoko tells me that her parents were Buddhists, but that she, as an adolescent, rejected their ‘religious’ beliefs, as adolescents are pretty much bound to do. We therefore have a situation whereby if religion can only be discussed and learnt about in homes, then we can expect ignorance of religion to become the norm. Yoko knows next to nothing about Zen because she never had the opportunity to hear about it in school, and she’s never been sufficiently interested to find out for herself.
Naturally I argued that Zen and Buddhism aren’t really religions, since their object is not to instil obedience to some supernatural ‘god’, but to develop techniques for human development with the ultimate goal of achieving Enlightenment, with each of us being responsible for our degrees of enlightenment and our own views of what enlightenment consists of.
Within certain branches of Buddhism there are rituals and key texts, which may or may not be learned within a temple. If we see Buddhist temples as essentially places that facilitate meditation, however, then Buddhism can legitimately be described as a philosophy rather than a religion. Zen masters and other Buddhist leaders are essentially teachers and practicing philosophers, and not priests or intermediaries.
One of the main paths connecting several of the temples in Kyoto is called the Path of the Philosophers. It’s the duty of each of us to become aware of our own philosophies, to the degree to which those philosophies are truly our own rather than indoctrination inculcated from our society and culture, and to become practicing philosophers - through meditation and the practice of inner reflection. We have to be able to identify our beliefs and our driving forces, and also be able to justify them to ourselves and others.
.
Monday 6th April
I’ve lost all control of my Zen music player. It now has a mind all of its own, and all I can do is switch it on or off, and press ‘play’ or ‘pause’. But when cabled into the Kenwood hi-fi in my flat it randomly cranks out the 4 gigabytes of excellent sounds I copied into it last year.
This morning it decided to start gently with Louis Jordan’s “She liked to boogie real slow”, and then hammered straight into the Stones’ “Can’t you hear me knocking?” with that incredible riff that just grabs the attention by the scruff of the neck and doesn’t let go for the next seven minutes of guitar, vocals and sax magic - classic Keith Richards. Music you just have to stop everything for and rock to.
And then to move things on even higher and wilder it threw at me “Rattlesnake Shake” - 24 minutes of brilliant electric blues recorded when Peter Green was at the very peak of his creative genius, way back in the mid to late sixties when Fleetwood Mac were the best blues band on the planet, bar none. This track still grabs me now like it did then. The Blues is timeless and beyond any dictates of fashion, fad and fly-by-night style.
-------------------------------------------------
Last night I was strolling around in the dark up at Osaka Castle, taking photos of its floodlit exterior, enjoying the atmosphere of fellow sightseers amid the flowering cherry trees, and suddenly heard the unmistakable sound of a National resonator steel guitar having its fretboard caressed with a bottleneck slide. I was drawn like a magnet to a bench in the pitch blackness under some trees, where the player turned out to be a youngish Japanese guy sitting with his girlfriend.
We got into a conversation, and he then played and sang “Sweet Home Chicago” with great expertise and feeling, the bottleneck shimmering and sliding up and down that beautiful chromium instrument. Another moment of pure Zen, to add to the many I’d already experienced on the day’s excursions around the Horyu-ji temple complex outside of Nara.
It then turned out that the girlfriend had with her a ukelele, which she played to accompany a beautifully sung version of “Loving You (has made my life so beautiful)” The guy joined in with his National. La la la la la.
We asked them for some ideas about where to go in Osaka to listen to good music played live in a bar or club, and will follow up later in the week.
------------------------------
Korean-style eating consists of sitting around a bowl of blazing hot charcoal lumps set within a table and cooking your own meat pieces to your own preferences - rare, medium or charred. The high-tech version of this cooker utilises a stainless steel bowl that somehow blasts the coals with air to get them up to red-hot temperature really quickly whilst sucking out the smoke and fumes through holes around the rim of the bowl, located just below the surface of the table.
Korean Town in Osaka has a number of narrow streets, little more than alleyways, that are lined with tiny restaurants. The most popular ones have queues outside that contain more people than are seated in the restaurant. The less popular ones employ people to stand outside and drag in the tourists and passers-by.
Japanese people out dining and drinking with colleagues and friends are quite funny. Within a few sips of beer they can go from self-contained and self-restrained ultra-quiet and polite beings to something approaching pie-eyed raucousness and wild laughter.
----------------------------------------------------------
I’m starting to get my bearings, now that I’ve realised that the map I’ve been given has south at the top and north at the bottom. Last night I made my way home from Mukogawa station to my flat without a hitch.
I could use a day or so just to sit quietly and take in all that’s been happening - to review photos and videos and do some writing. That was my basic plan yesterday till Yoko phoned in the morning and said that since she’d been up and working since 5.00am she’d completed the essential work she needed to do and was free to take me out for some more cherry blossom and temple sightseeing. She’s amazing.
This afternoon I’m due to meet a colleague of hers who’s arriving from Tokyo. It will be interesting to find out what his interests are, and how well he speaks English. I’m extremely fortunate that Yoko speaks English as well as she does, so that I can ask her everything I need to know about this fascinating country.
This time around I feel I’m learning much more about the impact of post-war ‘westernisation’ on Japan and its people. The British may feel that the second world war was a traumatic event that changed our national way of life forever, but in fact cultural life continued much as it had previously, with a class system and a political, religious and military elite firmly in place despite the Labour landslide and the creation of a welfare state after the war. We still had the House of Lords and a monarchy, and indeed still do.
We have no real concept of what the Japanese people must have experienced - having had so many of their young men needlessly killed by the recklessness and expansionism of their ruling and warrior classes, whose hubris led them to attack the USA in the belief that their mighty warships and airforce could put an end to American expansionism and influence in the western Pacific.
We have no idea what it must have been like to have experienced attack with atomic weapons, and to have had so many cities flattened with conventional bombing and firestorms. We have no idea of the damaged caused to the national psyche by post-war occupation and domination by people of a completely alien culture, who then set about imposing their own cultural norms as much as they possibly could.
-----------------------------------------------------
Actually there is one other control I have over the Zen player - I can fast-forward over tracks I don’t want to listen to, and I can flick back to the beginning of the current track for a repeat. I’ve thereby just converted the 24 minute howling monster blues-fest that is Rattlesnake Shake into a 48 minute wall-vibrating extravaganza. Which was nice.
The Kenwood machine has a kind of exaggerated bass sound, so I’m noticing more than ever John McVie - the man who put the Mac into the Mac - how chunky and funky his bass-playing always was.
And now the sky is blue and the sun is shining and I must get out there. One of the delights of the little Zen, of course, is that it’s highly portable and goes everywhere. Just like the real thing.
--------------------------------------------------------
Yoko talked about ‘westernisation’ leading to the Japanese ‘losing’ their religion, or religions. Especially Shinto, which seems to have become pretty much the scapegoat for the actions of the Japanese ruling classes. Post-war defeat and trauma must have led to a wholesale loss of self-esteem and self-confidence, as far as the nation was concerned.
But also individuals. The nuclear bombs were the forerunner and the momma and poppa of ‘shock and awe’ - more a tactic for traumatising the enemy than any real wartime necessity, given that by the time those weapons were used, the Japanese navy and airforce were virtually destroyed.
It must be part of the Japanese psyche to show deference and obedience to rulers, regardless of whether they are legitimate, illegitimate or imposed by wartime defeat. But I still don’t understand the degree to which the American occupiers believed they had a right to treat the Japanese like a blank slate on which to write a new set of cultural norms, including the right to ban teaching and learning about Shinto and Buddhism in schools.
In my conversations with the post-grad students the other day I gathered they go along with the view that religion can’t even be mentioned in schools - even the basic precepts of, say, Buddhism, Christianity, Islam, etc.
Yoko tells me that her parents were Buddhists, but that she, as an adolescent, rejected their ‘religious’ beliefs, as adolescents are pretty much bound to do. We therefore have a situation whereby if religion can only be discussed and learnt about in homes, then we can expect ignorance of religion to become the norm. Yoko knows next to nothing about Zen because she never had the opportunity to hear about it in school, and she’s never been sufficiently interested to find out for herself.
Naturally I argued that Zen and Buddhism aren’t really religions, since their object is not to instil obedience to some supernatural ‘god’, but to develop techniques for human development with the ultimate goal of achieving Enlightenment, with each of us being responsible for our degrees of enlightenment and our own views of what enlightenment consists of.
Within certain branches of Buddhism there are rituals and key texts, which may or may not be learned within a temple. If we see Buddhist temples as essentially places that facilitate meditation, however, then Buddhism can legitimately be described as a philosophy rather than a religion. Zen masters and other Buddhist leaders are essentially teachers and practicing philosophers, and not priests or intermediaries.
One of the main paths connecting several of the temples in Kyoto is called the Path of the Philosophers. It’s the duty of each of us to become aware of our own philosophies, to the degree to which those philosophies are truly our own rather than indoctrination inculcated from our society and culture, and to become practicing philosophers - through meditation and the practice of inner reflection. We have to be able to identify our beliefs and our driving forces, and also be able to justify them to ourselves and others.
.
Friday, April 3, 2009
Layer 143 Lost In Mukogawa, Kyoto, Cherry Blossoms and Academia.
.
Wednesday April 1st and Thursday April 2nd
I saw an enormous curved ramp from the elevated motorway in the night sky, wending its way around a block of flats, several stories above my head, and I finally had to admit this wasn’t a dream or a nightmare - I was lost. Either the ramp shouldn’t be where it was, or I shouldn’t be where I was, and frankly I had no idea where I was.
It seemed sensible to assume that the ramp had every right to be where it was, whereas I had no business at all being somewhere I shouldn’t be, wherever it was. Being under that ramp was no part of my plans, back at the point of leaving Mukogawa station, looking to stroll the mile or so back to my apartment. Memorising the route and the general directions I’d need to take had seemed easy - or so I’d thought.
Still - there was no need to worry. I still had the map in my rucksack. I took it out and consulted it under a nearby streetlight. On this particular street there were no people. Back in London in the dead of night on an unknown street with no-one around I’d have been starting to feel slightly worried. No need for that here, though - surely Japan has no petty crime and no crazy street gangs, armed to the teeth and looking for easy pickings?
The map had seemed easy to read yesterday, at the point of knowing exactly where I was on it, and where I needed to get to. Now that I’d somehow departed from the straight and narrow, and no longer had a clue where I was, the map was useless, on account of the fact that it was entirely in Japanese, and so were the actual street signs -assuming I could eventually find one or two of them. Trying to memorise the look of the characters on the road signs and then scour the map for the exact same Japanese characters would be a nightmare, standing there in the chill wind of the Spring darkness.
After a couple of minutes pondering how on earth I’d gone away from the proper route, I noticed an old guy coming slowly along the street, for all I knew having had a few drinks at a nearby bar. Not feeling at all optimistic I held out the map and said in English, “Excuse me, I need to get back to this place and I don’t know where I am.”
He looked down at the map and muttered something in Japanese, and immediately shuffled off in the direction he’d been heading. I didn’t feel I could blame him - there was no way we were going to communicate, and I doubted that he could read or understand the cluttered little photocopy of a map that had on it only the names of the main roads, and in very small characters.
And then he was suddenly back again, standing next to me, holding a pair of reading glasses, having gone somewhere to collect them. So much for my intuition and my faith in humanity. Of course - he couldn’t read the map because he couldn’t focus on it properly! After a couple of moments he looked up and pointed in the general direction I’d need to go in.
And then he pulled on my arm, clearly saying, look - come here - I’ll show you. He not only walked with me to the next intersection where I’d need to turn left - he came with me for several blocks till we reached a main road, from where it was obvious where I should go to complete the journey. Then he shook my hand, bowed, and went off home.
--------------------------------------
The Temples
It had been a fitting and affirmative ending to what had been an excellent day. Yoko had phoned early and asked whether we could meet at 9.00 instead of 10.00, as it was a beautiful, bright day and we should make the most of it. We agreed it should be possible for me to catch the two trains I’d need to take to get to central Osaka station, assuming I had my wits about me, and in the event I caught one that went all the way through.
Kayo was waiting for us when we arrived at Kyoto, two more trains later. And then it was down into the underground for a train that took us from north to south, and out into a windy street to wait for the ‘community bus’ that was in effect a shuttle bus to the Daigo temple complex we intended to explore - a bus that was about the size of an average American taxi but able to contain about forty tightly-packed humans, obviously with most of them standing and strap-hanging..
Yoko said she could tell from the accents that a great many of the people who were flocking to the temples this cherry-blossom time were from the Tokyo area. It was interesting that there were virtually no Euros or North Americans.
And finally we had confirmation that this was the very peak of the 2009 cherry blossom season - the vast majority of the blossom on the trees in the temple gardens was in full bloom, and there was absolutely none of it down on the ground. Neither had the new green leaves burst from their buds.
There’s no point trying to describe the cumulative effect of the blossoms in the gardens and the temple walkways - it was just sensational. The atmosphere was festival-like, but quiet and respectful, and suitably in awe of nature’s amazing display. New wonders came into sight with every turn and with each fresh vantage point. Thousands of photos were being snapped, and hopefully some of them will do justice to the spectacle, and bring back some of the feeling of the day.
We went from one meditation hall to the next, higher and higher up the mountain, past streams and ponds, over bridges that looked down on slow-swimming Koi carp, past raked pebble gardens and waterfalls and a huge pagoda, past pine trees and leafless Japanese maples.
Truly a memorable and incredible experience, never again to be repeated. I can’t imagine ever again being able to coincide a trip to Japan with the very peak of the cherry blossom season.
Next week I’ll go back and take photos of the blossom scattered like a carpet of snow on the ground, and floating in the ponds and streams, having drifted down like snowflakes.
--------------------------------------------
Flashbacks
I keep getting flashbacks of the journey to Japan. I guess I’m still recovering from it.
Last night I had a very sharp memory of the shiver of dread that ran through me at Heathrow when I suddenly had a thought- is Emirates a DRY airline? Holy fuck! Was that the reason it was the only airline that still had seats available to Japan in the cherry-blossom season? How bad would that be! More than 16 hours flying time via Dubai - without any free booze! Aaaarrrggghhhh!
Calm. Calm. Worst case scenario. The best case scenario was that there was unlimited quantities of top-class beer, wine, spirits and liqueurs to help pass the hours in a haze of well-being and olfactory delights.
When I asked the steward for a second can of Heineken he said, “I’ll give you two more.” Now that’s what I CALL an airline.
So - three cans before dinner, wine with it, and a generous glass of Hennessey to follow.
The spicy chicken and basmati rice, salad, bread, cheesecake and coffee weren’t bad either.
The double-decker Airbus 380 - 800, the biggest damn passenger plane in the world, and in the entire history of the world, sailed smoothly on at over 1,000kph, and every single man, woman and child in its massive cabins, and no doubt in its similar cabins upstairs, was sitting in front of an individual flat screen on which was playing a UNIQUE image.
No two images or programmes the same. It was unbelievable. The plane had more channels and films on tap than my home cable TV service. Plus a constantly updated map of where we were on our journey, and exactly which bit of which country we were flying over. Plus a constantly updated notification of airspeed, groundspeed, outside temperature, time at destination, time at point of departure, etc. Incredible.
Plus - the ability to touch the screen to change from a video image of what’s directly ahead of the plane to what’s immediately beneath it, to what the entire plane looks like from a video camera mounted at the top of the tailplane.
------------------------------------
Academia
Yesterday I went to look around the university and to attend a seminar that involved a colleague of Yoko plus three of Yoko’s post-grad students - Kayo, Tomoko and Megumi. The subject was the history of education and the progressive movement in Europe the late 19th and early 20th Century. These guys know a damn sight more about it than I do - Dewey, Montessori, etc.
At the end of the session I asked if I could do a video interview with them as a group. I had four questions. Why are there so many women-only universities in Japan and what do they feel are the advantages? What did they think were the main benefits of the Montessori approach to early years learning? What could they tell me about wabi sabi? Why do most Japanese people seem to know very little about (and care even less about) Zen?
When I find the time I’ll try to transcribe the discussion from the tape. Interesting.
In the afternoon I managed to set up my laptop for Internet access in Yoko’s office via the uni’s network, with the help of one of Yoko’s very pleasant colleagues. No sign of anyone having a guitar to lend me as yet!
We then went back to her new house, which I was visiting for the first time, and made dinner whilst trying to get the gist of what was at that very moment happening live in London - the G20 demonstrations. Felt very annoyed to be missing such events in my adopted city. Oh well . . .
-------------------------------------------------------
I have to write a speech for the start of year faculty meeting at the university tomorrow, so here goes.
Good morning everyone. Ohayo Gozaimas. I’m sorry I don’t speak any more Japanese, but I’m going to try hard to learn some in the next three weeks. Professor Yamasaki has very kindly bought me this Instant Japanese book - so I hope it will be instant!
I’ve only been back in Japan for a few days, but I’ve already decided I don’t want to go home to London. Being in Japan at cherry blossom time is very exciting and a huge thrill for me. It’s something I’ve wanted to do for a very long time. Yesterday in Kyoto was wonderful beyond description. I wish I could show you the two thousand photos and one hour of video I took! I guess you have lots of photos of your own at home!
I’m missing the G20 meetings and demonstrations in London this week. My generation of students grew up in the 1960’s, so I have a fondness for political demonstrations. I haven’t lost my belief that by working together, people like us can help to make a better planet.
My home is in east London, which is where the next Olympics will take place in 2012. The main stadium’s construction is now reaching its full height. You can see it on internet webcams. Or feel free to come and see the games in 2012. I’m not sure I’ll be there myself though. I may have to escape to Japan for a more peaceful life.
I was a Primary teacher in London, and was then a headteacher of a Primary school for 20 years. My school was well known as a place where progressive child-centred education was pioneered in a State Primary school in the 1960’s, and onward.
I have now been happily retired from headship for two years, and these days I’m running my own educational consultancy, working with associates who are able to offer to schools, universities and local authorities advice and support on children’s wellbeing, personal, social and emotional intelligence, creativity, and pedagogy for child-centred education. I can give you a web site reference if you’re interested in knowing more.
I look forward to meeting some more of you and getting to know you better in these next three weeks. I’d like to thank those of you who have already been so welcoming and helpful. And I’d especially like to thank Professor Yamasaki, who wrote an academic paper with me and published it in Japan a few years ago.
With her help and support I’ve been able to develop my 3 Dimensional model of human intelligences, and it’s thanks to her generosity and continuing friendship that I’ve been able to return this year to Japan, a country I really love, yet again.
I wish you all a very happy and productive new academic year. Take care of one another, and enjoy life together.
Thank you all. Arigato gozaimas.
.
Wednesday April 1st and Thursday April 2nd
I saw an enormous curved ramp from the elevated motorway in the night sky, wending its way around a block of flats, several stories above my head, and I finally had to admit this wasn’t a dream or a nightmare - I was lost. Either the ramp shouldn’t be where it was, or I shouldn’t be where I was, and frankly I had no idea where I was.
It seemed sensible to assume that the ramp had every right to be where it was, whereas I had no business at all being somewhere I shouldn’t be, wherever it was. Being under that ramp was no part of my plans, back at the point of leaving Mukogawa station, looking to stroll the mile or so back to my apartment. Memorising the route and the general directions I’d need to take had seemed easy - or so I’d thought.
Still - there was no need to worry. I still had the map in my rucksack. I took it out and consulted it under a nearby streetlight. On this particular street there were no people. Back in London in the dead of night on an unknown street with no-one around I’d have been starting to feel slightly worried. No need for that here, though - surely Japan has no petty crime and no crazy street gangs, armed to the teeth and looking for easy pickings?
The map had seemed easy to read yesterday, at the point of knowing exactly where I was on it, and where I needed to get to. Now that I’d somehow departed from the straight and narrow, and no longer had a clue where I was, the map was useless, on account of the fact that it was entirely in Japanese, and so were the actual street signs -assuming I could eventually find one or two of them. Trying to memorise the look of the characters on the road signs and then scour the map for the exact same Japanese characters would be a nightmare, standing there in the chill wind of the Spring darkness.
After a couple of minutes pondering how on earth I’d gone away from the proper route, I noticed an old guy coming slowly along the street, for all I knew having had a few drinks at a nearby bar. Not feeling at all optimistic I held out the map and said in English, “Excuse me, I need to get back to this place and I don’t know where I am.”
He looked down at the map and muttered something in Japanese, and immediately shuffled off in the direction he’d been heading. I didn’t feel I could blame him - there was no way we were going to communicate, and I doubted that he could read or understand the cluttered little photocopy of a map that had on it only the names of the main roads, and in very small characters.
And then he was suddenly back again, standing next to me, holding a pair of reading glasses, having gone somewhere to collect them. So much for my intuition and my faith in humanity. Of course - he couldn’t read the map because he couldn’t focus on it properly! After a couple of moments he looked up and pointed in the general direction I’d need to go in.
And then he pulled on my arm, clearly saying, look - come here - I’ll show you. He not only walked with me to the next intersection where I’d need to turn left - he came with me for several blocks till we reached a main road, from where it was obvious where I should go to complete the journey. Then he shook my hand, bowed, and went off home.
--------------------------------------
The Temples
It had been a fitting and affirmative ending to what had been an excellent day. Yoko had phoned early and asked whether we could meet at 9.00 instead of 10.00, as it was a beautiful, bright day and we should make the most of it. We agreed it should be possible for me to catch the two trains I’d need to take to get to central Osaka station, assuming I had my wits about me, and in the event I caught one that went all the way through.
Kayo was waiting for us when we arrived at Kyoto, two more trains later. And then it was down into the underground for a train that took us from north to south, and out into a windy street to wait for the ‘community bus’ that was in effect a shuttle bus to the Daigo temple complex we intended to explore - a bus that was about the size of an average American taxi but able to contain about forty tightly-packed humans, obviously with most of them standing and strap-hanging..
Yoko said she could tell from the accents that a great many of the people who were flocking to the temples this cherry-blossom time were from the Tokyo area. It was interesting that there were virtually no Euros or North Americans.
And finally we had confirmation that this was the very peak of the 2009 cherry blossom season - the vast majority of the blossom on the trees in the temple gardens was in full bloom, and there was absolutely none of it down on the ground. Neither had the new green leaves burst from their buds.
There’s no point trying to describe the cumulative effect of the blossoms in the gardens and the temple walkways - it was just sensational. The atmosphere was festival-like, but quiet and respectful, and suitably in awe of nature’s amazing display. New wonders came into sight with every turn and with each fresh vantage point. Thousands of photos were being snapped, and hopefully some of them will do justice to the spectacle, and bring back some of the feeling of the day.
We went from one meditation hall to the next, higher and higher up the mountain, past streams and ponds, over bridges that looked down on slow-swimming Koi carp, past raked pebble gardens and waterfalls and a huge pagoda, past pine trees and leafless Japanese maples.
Truly a memorable and incredible experience, never again to be repeated. I can’t imagine ever again being able to coincide a trip to Japan with the very peak of the cherry blossom season.
Next week I’ll go back and take photos of the blossom scattered like a carpet of snow on the ground, and floating in the ponds and streams, having drifted down like snowflakes.
--------------------------------------------
Flashbacks
I keep getting flashbacks of the journey to Japan. I guess I’m still recovering from it.
Last night I had a very sharp memory of the shiver of dread that ran through me at Heathrow when I suddenly had a thought- is Emirates a DRY airline? Holy fuck! Was that the reason it was the only airline that still had seats available to Japan in the cherry-blossom season? How bad would that be! More than 16 hours flying time via Dubai - without any free booze! Aaaarrrggghhhh!
Calm. Calm. Worst case scenario. The best case scenario was that there was unlimited quantities of top-class beer, wine, spirits and liqueurs to help pass the hours in a haze of well-being and olfactory delights.
When I asked the steward for a second can of Heineken he said, “I’ll give you two more.” Now that’s what I CALL an airline.
So - three cans before dinner, wine with it, and a generous glass of Hennessey to follow.
The spicy chicken and basmati rice, salad, bread, cheesecake and coffee weren’t bad either.
The double-decker Airbus 380 - 800, the biggest damn passenger plane in the world, and in the entire history of the world, sailed smoothly on at over 1,000kph, and every single man, woman and child in its massive cabins, and no doubt in its similar cabins upstairs, was sitting in front of an individual flat screen on which was playing a UNIQUE image.
No two images or programmes the same. It was unbelievable. The plane had more channels and films on tap than my home cable TV service. Plus a constantly updated map of where we were on our journey, and exactly which bit of which country we were flying over. Plus a constantly updated notification of airspeed, groundspeed, outside temperature, time at destination, time at point of departure, etc. Incredible.
Plus - the ability to touch the screen to change from a video image of what’s directly ahead of the plane to what’s immediately beneath it, to what the entire plane looks like from a video camera mounted at the top of the tailplane.
------------------------------------
Academia
Yesterday I went to look around the university and to attend a seminar that involved a colleague of Yoko plus three of Yoko’s post-grad students - Kayo, Tomoko and Megumi. The subject was the history of education and the progressive movement in Europe the late 19th and early 20th Century. These guys know a damn sight more about it than I do - Dewey, Montessori, etc.
At the end of the session I asked if I could do a video interview with them as a group. I had four questions. Why are there so many women-only universities in Japan and what do they feel are the advantages? What did they think were the main benefits of the Montessori approach to early years learning? What could they tell me about wabi sabi? Why do most Japanese people seem to know very little about (and care even less about) Zen?
When I find the time I’ll try to transcribe the discussion from the tape. Interesting.
In the afternoon I managed to set up my laptop for Internet access in Yoko’s office via the uni’s network, with the help of one of Yoko’s very pleasant colleagues. No sign of anyone having a guitar to lend me as yet!
We then went back to her new house, which I was visiting for the first time, and made dinner whilst trying to get the gist of what was at that very moment happening live in London - the G20 demonstrations. Felt very annoyed to be missing such events in my adopted city. Oh well . . .
-------------------------------------------------------
I have to write a speech for the start of year faculty meeting at the university tomorrow, so here goes.
Good morning everyone. Ohayo Gozaimas. I’m sorry I don’t speak any more Japanese, but I’m going to try hard to learn some in the next three weeks. Professor Yamasaki has very kindly bought me this Instant Japanese book - so I hope it will be instant!
I’ve only been back in Japan for a few days, but I’ve already decided I don’t want to go home to London. Being in Japan at cherry blossom time is very exciting and a huge thrill for me. It’s something I’ve wanted to do for a very long time. Yesterday in Kyoto was wonderful beyond description. I wish I could show you the two thousand photos and one hour of video I took! I guess you have lots of photos of your own at home!
I’m missing the G20 meetings and demonstrations in London this week. My generation of students grew up in the 1960’s, so I have a fondness for political demonstrations. I haven’t lost my belief that by working together, people like us can help to make a better planet.
My home is in east London, which is where the next Olympics will take place in 2012. The main stadium’s construction is now reaching its full height. You can see it on internet webcams. Or feel free to come and see the games in 2012. I’m not sure I’ll be there myself though. I may have to escape to Japan for a more peaceful life.
I was a Primary teacher in London, and was then a headteacher of a Primary school for 20 years. My school was well known as a place where progressive child-centred education was pioneered in a State Primary school in the 1960’s, and onward.
I have now been happily retired from headship for two years, and these days I’m running my own educational consultancy, working with associates who are able to offer to schools, universities and local authorities advice and support on children’s wellbeing, personal, social and emotional intelligence, creativity, and pedagogy for child-centred education. I can give you a web site reference if you’re interested in knowing more.
I look forward to meeting some more of you and getting to know you better in these next three weeks. I’d like to thank those of you who have already been so welcoming and helpful. And I’d especially like to thank Professor Yamasaki, who wrote an academic paper with me and published it in Japan a few years ago.
With her help and support I’ve been able to develop my 3 Dimensional model of human intelligences, and it’s thanks to her generosity and continuing friendship that I’ve been able to return this year to Japan, a country I really love, yet again.
I wish you all a very happy and productive new academic year. Take care of one another, and enjoy life together.
Thank you all. Arigato gozaimas.
.
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