Showing posts with label Kyoto. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kyoto. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 22, 2014


ONE ROCK, TIED WITH ROPE

I first saw one of these not long after I arrived in Japan. During a visit to Kyoto I was wandering through the beautiful garden at Katsura Rikyu and about to leave the main walk to follow a stone path toward a small but intriguing building when I noticed, perked right in the center of the first walkstone on the new path, an impertinent little roundish rock, bound with black hemp rope!

Who would tie up a single rock, and why? What could be more pointless than binding the neverbound and placing it so whereverly? Staring at the little granite package, I wondered at the why of what, and other zenny matters-- the utter thereness of it, its arrant placefulness-- so irrational, yet so neatly done and so... cute!

In such an elegant surrounding! Just put there, without reason I could see, so oddly ineffectual, right where I was about to place my foot! So easy to bypass, I remarked as I stood there. Who would be so careless, yet so careful as to take the time to tie a rock around with a couple of loops of rope and put a neat a knot at the top? What could be more pointless? Or less pointful?

Who ties one rock with rope? And what do they know that I don't? The mind I call mine continued to boggle. Which is the point, for a boggling mind; such a rock in such a place and time makes such a mind stop and wonder, even ponder; hopefully a thought will rise. How subtle an approach that is! No stabby bamboo fence, no wrought iron railing with spikes, no gargoyles, no big framed metal Keep Out signs or guards with pikes...

But still, who ties one rock with rope and puts it on a garden path? A traditional Japanese gardener, that's who. And there it was, before me. I hadn't known what the rock meant, yet I "knew." It did its job; it stopped me. Even though I didn't speak its language.

The stone is called a tome-ishi (lit: stop-stone).

There is more to understanding than we'll ever know.


Tuesday, March 04, 2014


Kyoto Journal issue #79 
- An Unfamiliar Home
is now out!

 #79 is out! 
Includes selections from Pure Land Mountain; 

Thursday, September 19, 2013

Ancient Is the New Now


Big-shouldered typhoon, flooder, landslider and tornado generator Man-Yi stormed the night through the country, leaving big wet long wide footprints all over filled with trees, cars, roofs, rivers, sheet metal and mountainsides.

At about 4 am on Monday I'd been sleeping to the roar of the heavy rain (up to 8 cm (> 3 inches) an hour!) that had been falling for, oh, the past couple months, seemed like - it was becoming the normal ambient sound - so I didn't really notice unless it stopped, then suddenly in utter dark the first big shoulder hit the side of the house. I lay there wondering if the walls and roof could withstand much more of that, then the wind blew harder and I pictured the outside, what might be flying around out there, sounded like a slow-motion train derailment, metal somewhere in the din doing loud wind-torquing back and forth-- later learned it was the demolished neighbor cabin roof.

In the spitty gusty morning our trees are raggy leaved, what's left of them; large-branch loss from cherry and chestnut, couple of trees fell on a cabin below us, half-rubbling it, a bigger tree fell on the roadside, looked like it had been mauled by a giant tiger. The slavering, growling beast removed roofs, tossed some buildings stopped the trains too, of course. During the daystorm, against the blur out the window I watched our old chestnut tree shimmying and shaking itself apart, out front the high old cedar tree, trunk a meter around, was rockin in the wind like at a Stones concert as the weeping cherry did a whole different rubbery dance, the house rocking and shuddering at the serial impacts of giant windshoulders as the rooftiles rang like fine marimbas up there.

On TV, while we had it, the rampaging Yodo River in central Kyoto was higher than I've ever seen it, lashing at the splendid old bridge in Arashiyama, and I realized that that the famed and lovely stone walk along the river's banks beside Ponto-cho, like the supporting poles of the striking riverside restaurant platforms, aren't there just to be pretty-- they are of ancient necessity, as long ago folks here learned from experience over millennia, and again this week.

Seems the earth is increasingly revisiting its old ways, as though asserting its authority, shrugging off carbon footprints, ramping up earthquakes and beefing up the tsunami department, reviving ancient weather patterns, droughts, floods, wildfires, volcanoes coming back around again for longer, fiercer times, tweaking the DNA spectrum to give us all new challenges, as we begin to relearn (or not) the truth of long-ago solutions, as ancient becomes the new now, testing once more whether and what we can overcome, that we may move on...


Monday, June 24, 2013



KYOTO JOURNAL DIGITAL NOW OUT!  

** Sign up for free issue **

The folks over at Kyoto Journal recently announced release of their 77th issue, after a long transition from print to digital (and a complete website rebuild). This puts KJ back on track as a quarterly publication providing "insights from Asia."

The 22 articles in this issue (200 pages+!) take readers beyond the ancient capital to Hiroshima, Tokyo and Fukushima, on to Korea, China, Nepal, Tibet, India, Afghanistan, Sri Lanka and the Philippines, delving into film and fiction, poetry, "off-the-beaten-track" travels, craft and calligraphy, architectural and archaeological investigations, yoga, post-disaster initiatives, and reviews, finishing up right here on Pure Land Mountain.

If you go to KJ's homepage, http://kyotojournal.org/, you can sign up for an occasional newsletter — and receive a free download of a classic issue, KJ 73.
A one-year subscription to KJ (4 issues) is just 4,000 yen.




Thursday, September 23, 2010



WHAT DOES KYOTO HAVE TO DO WITH FISH?

Kyoto is nowhere near the ocean. It's a mountain-girded city. Tourists don't come here in quest of marine life. And there's no need to point out that one of the world's most famed aquariums, the Kaiyukan in Osaka, is less than an hour away on Japan's world-class railway system. Wonder if the bureaucrats thought of that... Something seems fishy here... Does Bhutan have an aquarium? Is there an aquarium in Kathmandu?

All the world knows Kyoto, and if they haven't visited, they'd love to. So far. They don't cross oceans to see the new train station - locally known as Stalin's Office, aesthetically decided by governmental committees of businessmen; nor do they come to view marine life.

Visitors to the ancient capital come to see the legendary city, the city built by warriors, monks and artisans, the city famed for the reach of its history, the depth of its serenity, the breadth of its understanding of how heart, spirit and mind can grow in beauty throughout life and the world. They come to savor and absorb that quality, bring it into their lives, take it home; they come for spiritual nutrition. Then they arrive at Stalin's Office.

Is this really Kyoto? They hastily move on out of there and wander off amidst the swell of modern dross in search of the treasures for which Kyoto is yet renowned, and maybe in the course of their pilgrimage go to where there once was a restful park but now they can look at some fish. Wait, what? Yes, the city officials are at it again. Not history, not tradition, not subtle understanding--what could they be after, one might wonder, having viewed the landlocked sea life of the bureaucratic mind.

Urban travesties are not in short supply these days, but Kyoto is a burgeoning example of what can be achieved with a long-lived shortsight committee.

Hungry souls that fly over oceans to get here do not come to gaze at fish. Besides, there's already a genuine Kyoto Aquarium in Koreatown in Los Angeles, as shown in the photo. Which, as a long-standing pet shop, makes a lot more sense.

If you care about Kyoto and what it means to humanity, please go here and sign the petition, especially if you live elsewhere in the world, to which Kyoto truly belongs. And feel free to pass it on.


Wednesday, February 24, 2010


PHOTOS OF MEIJI-ERA JAPAN

By Alfonso Farsari

Gion/Shijo, 1886

The earlier Kinkaku-ji, 1886

Saturday, November 14, 2009


KYOTO JOURNAL - FALL 2009

Kyoto Journal #73 Now Out

Tuesday, September 02, 2008

Thursday, February 21, 2008


THE AUTOMATIC DOORS OF LATE AFTERNOON


This was a couple of decades ago, when we lived in Kyoto. It happened when we were on our way home one late afternoon - when there aren't many shoppers - and Echo had gone into the supermarket on Ichijoji Street to pick up something quick while I waited in the car down the street a little, Kyoto being a fanatically parking-tickety city.

On the left side of the supermarket front was the one-way entrance; the one-way exit was on the right side. Each had automatic doors, triggered by a large mat before the door. When a customer stepped on the mat, the doors slid apart, permitting entry or exit. Pretty standard stuff in Japanese supermarkets. Anyway, as I sat there waiting, a woman headed for the entrance, stepped on the mat, the doors opened, she passed through; then as the doors were closing she realized she hadn't taken one of the baskets stacked outside for customers to grab before they go in.

She turned, reached back through the doors, grabbed a basket and the doors closed on her torso-- not painfully, but unrelentingly, and not widely enough to trigger auto-reopening. She turned and was able to get the basket through; then she slid her arms back inside the door and slowly commenced edging herself inside. But when the doors at last passed over her shoulders, they closed at once on her neck, where they bounced gently, but firmly: she was stuck-- not dangerously, but embarrassingly in the extreme. To perhaps extract herself immediately, she could sacrifice either her ears or her nose, so she chose to to do neither.

She put down the basket, put down her purse and tried with her hands to wedge the door open, but from that bent-over position with that degree of closure she couldn't get enough leverage, and since it was late afternoon, no one was coming into the store who would thereby step on the mat and set her free.

She tried the next thing, of sticking one leg out through the crack in the doors and stepping, in fact pounding on the mat with one foot to trigger it, but the brief weight of even a plump leg alone was not enough. She yelled, too. But she was yelling outside and to an empty street, so no one inside the store could hear her. And since her doors weren't an exit, no one was coming her way from inside the store.

After this had gone on long enough for me to see that the hyperembarrassed lady could not free herself (her clear preference), just as I was getting out to go and step on the mat to set her free (an unusual privilege), an elderly shopper gentleman came shuffling ever-so-slowly up the street toward the entrance, head down, as the woman's head watched him, her new hope.

Step-by-slow-step he got-him-self-a-bas-ket as she spoke to him but he was hard of hearing and had turned and was just about to step on the mat - his foot hovering right over it - when he saw the head of a young woman about two feet in front of his face, looking at him wide-eyed, just the head it was, hanging there from the supermarket, the head was also speaking at him and he freaked, backed away in panic as the head babbled about something surreal he couldn't quite make out... He adjusted his glasses, looked again at the face on the doors, then edged closer to the suspended countenance once more... Maybe some kind of a practical joke... There was more than a head, there was a body inside, and the head was making a strange kind of sense, it was a woman's head, and it was... stuck in the doors??

The unexpected savior stuck out a leg and tapped the mat: not enough. He advanced gingerly toward the head, to an unseemly proximity with a young female stranger, until his slight but full weight was on the mat: the doors opened and they both staggered; she in new freedom and he in regaining his balance following another completely unforeseen memory of a lifetime.

Thought it might be worth the retelling.

Tuesday, November 29, 2005


BLUE-EYED GEISHA DOESN'T PREMIERE IN KYOTO


"'According to this film, geisha dance in a bizarre fashion, as if they were in a Los Angeles strip show,' one Japanese film fan complained on a Web log, or blog, adding that the lights and special effects were more reminiscent of modern Las Vegas than old Kyoto.'

'In Kyoto, the centre of Japan's traditional arts, the reaction was more circumspect, in keeping with the western Japanese city's customary discretion.'

'It's a Hollywood movie. It's just entertainment, so what can we do?' said an official at the Kyoto Traditional Musical Art Foundation, which promotes the music, dance and other arts of old Japan. 'Hollywood has always done things like ignoring history.' [The Chinese actresses trained in the geisha arts for all of six weeks!]

'Complaining about it will just focus attention on it, so we plan to ignore it,' he added, saying that the Foundation had turned down requests to take part in promotional events connected with the premiere.'"

Maybe that's another reason they held it in Tokyo (box office first, cultural integrity whenever).

The West in general remains pretty ignorant of Japan and China and their similarities and differences, and could care less, by and large... so that shouldn't get in the way with the movie, any more than it did with the book...

[Later: 'Memoirs of a Geisha' film kicks up storm in Japan and China]

Saturday, December 28, 2002


THE CLOUD OF GOD


It's just a little Kyoto shrine; a strong woman could pick it up and carry it away. It sits in a niche in a wall on a nondescript corner to an alley I pass by every morning, in an otherwise soulless neighborhood of the kind often seen around train stations in cities, especially that early in the day: monolithic apartment blocks, closed-up shops, empty streets. But there is always a flower in the vase, and sometimes when I'm zoning by in standard commuter zombie mode I'm all at once alive awake amid the fragrance of a wonderful incense like an invisible cloud of god, and am immersed in the faith of another, in the simple but beautiful and sharing act it is to tend this humble shrine for the benison of all passing by, who, without ever saying so, are blessed by this reminder of the beauty that is everywhere and always in the soul, as far as we may somehow seem to get from that beauty, and by the realization that simply passing through a cloud of god can awaken the god in ourselves, at least until we get to the office.

Previously published, in slightly different form, in Kyoto Journal and Tricycle