Prayer of My Granddaughter

I give no faith 

to the ways of madeup gods,

but watching my young granddaughter

take a moment from play

to pray by herself

at the grave of her pet,

I know there is prayer.

There is a turning inward 

to all the self,

a proving of the universe.

No need for a god,

She is the god.

She is the universe living,

the circle closing

embracing its own.

She stands at her best,

folds her hands

bows her head

summons a silent blessing

from the place of places

that powers the heart,

ends with her own amen.

When she turns to play again

there is more to the air.

Rainbows All Day

The day looked like no surprise. It was cloudy and rainy like yesterday, the day before and the day after tomorrow, but at this time of year that's no surprise around here, as the fall of summer chills into winter over the brown, sleepy earth.

But then came a surprise at one point early in the gray morning, when I looked out the window grumpy at upset plans with more rain before my eyes, and saw the brightest, finest, clearest rainbow I've been privileged to behold in a looong time, right inyerface in the dark north, stretching in jeweled glow from lake to mountain, broad and intense as light alone can be in a perfectly faceted moment. There are few perfect moments of any kind, but this - magic in the darking rain and mood - it was like suddenly living more life than a moment ago.

The arch of colors we can see (and colors we can't see) was low to the ground from the angle of the sun, each tint clear, yet without distinct edges of beginning or ending - like the rainbow itself - of the sky, yet apart, without edges, like the colors as they came from gray sky somehow to red > orange > yellow > green > turquoise > blue > purple then sky again, journeys of light I saw as a performance, each color flowing into the next...

As the day went on and the air grew even darker, time after time I looked out the window with less and less dark a mood, and each time I looked  there was another skyheart rainbow out there in a slightly different place, the light itself in a fine mood, brightling all the way to dusk.

My rainbow quotient is filled now, and with no effort on my part, a reward for just looking out the window now and then into apparent gloom, with a kind of hope the sky gave me. Even telling of it brings smiles to granddaughter faces...

Rainbows all day will do that for you.

BAMBI MONOGATARI

You gotta love those rare special events you have no idea are coming, moments you couldn't have imagined would be waiting there just ahead of now, like the other night. I was driving the grandgirls (12, 10 and 10) up to our place to stay the weekend; the darkness lay heavy on the mountain and the fog was thick, the way it loves to get in Spring.

As we wended our way up the winding road toward the house, I was driving slowly, expecting who knows what, some wild pigs, a buck, maybe - even a bear - to dash out from the forest and across the road... Then, in that quiet mood, as we came up around the last curve to the crossroads, just past the tunnel, with not much visible in the lowbeam glare, we met the unexpected: standing there, all alone in the swirling mist, at the center of crossroads and headlights, stood the actual Bambi.

I must say, in the dense silence of a foggy mountain night there is nothing louder than the sudden spotlit appearance of a baby deer in the roadway with three little girls in the car. A high moment it was for the Trio, and a strange moment for that tiny creature out there, panic shivering its white-spotted golden fawn body, big dark eyes staring into blinding light, in a world as new as it ever gets...

The girls slowly hushed at the emotion of the sight; I slowed the car even more, not knowing which way a skittish Bambi might bolt as we crept slowly toward him standing there bouncing around on four brand-new gangly legs - boing, boing, boing - then bobbling away - But that way was uphill, houses up there; then heading left - fence there; then to the right - fence there too, what to do what to do, it would have to be downward then: into the jaws... of the glaring monster... Would there be such courage in that new life? Or might a skittish infant just bolt under the car? What do we evernew creatures know about such things?

I slowed... and then stopped; Bambi bounced his way toward the side of the road and teetered squeezily past us, within arm’s length out the open windows, the girls calling his name right into his big ears, until he could skitter for deer life into the welcome darkness. Bet he never forgets that time when the huge nightbeast came at him with blinding eyes and roaring voice, and how he managed his escape.

A tale of courage for all descendants.

JOKE ON THE MOUNTAINSIDE

You know how in Japan when you buy a set of joke glasses with a big nose, mustache and flaring eyebrows to wear when you walk into your house at night after work while your young granddaughters are visiting, who have never in their whole lives seen such a getup, can present strategic problems.

Well the main strategic problem for me was that if the grandies heard me rumbling up from the station in the dark on my motorcycle, they might turn on the deck lights, run out on the deck and yell "Welcome home, Bobu-chan!" while I'm parking the bike masklessly, and so my joke would be shot because I'd have no time or place - with all the deck lights, sharp peering eyes and what not - to slip the facial gear on.

On the other hand, if I were to enmask at the station, then motorcycle up the mountain through the dark I'd be cool, because who's gonna see me sneakdriving up with huge nose and flaring eyebrows, since none of my neighbors up there drives down at that hour, so when I got home it would be a great joke whether the girls heard me and came out or not, so that's what I did.

You know how Robbie Burns commiserated with that little mouse under his plow? Well there was no big Robbie up there in my case, but I've never seen so many cars come downmountain full of wide-eyed neighbors just as I was motorcycling up into their high beams wearing a Grouchoface, probably a first for this particular mountainside. Fortunately there were no accidents, as far as I could tell, other than to my reputation as a serious foreign fellow, but the grandies never believed that anyway.

THE BEANS OF INFINITY

What do you get the little granddaughter who wants everything?

This question of the ages, times three in my case, arose when Echo informed me that she was planning a trip north to spend a few days with Kasumi and the three grandies, where she now is, while I revel in the joys of big city officedom.

I had a couple of days to think about the question, and decided that for each of the three girls I'd get a present that Echo could give them, gifts that would have to: cost less than I wanted to spend, be light enough for Echo to carry, require no batteries, withstand the brutal impact of three converging childhoods, have unique appeal, be something off the wall, be something they would like, be something that wouldn't initiate intertrio warfare (Yours is Better!)-- the list appears to be infinite, I'd better stop here.

Grandparents are always on the lookout for goodies that the grandies might enjoy, and I had recently heard of the Mugen Puchipuchi (mugen: infinite; puchipuchi: an onomatopoetic term used to indicate a small popping sound), a small handheld device that relieves stress by endlessly reproducing the nanopleasant effect of popping the bubbles on bubble wrap. I bought one of these, but Echo commandeered it.

Unfortunately it needs batteries, but it led me to another infinite product, a descendant of the Mugen Puchipuchi: the Mugen Edamame. I had never fully recognized the nanopleasure it was to squeeze out those shiny little green beans from their pod... Wow. Are these products ever indefinably Japanese...

So first chance I got I went to the nearest mugen-potential emporium and looked in every nook and cranny, but found only ONE Mugen Edamame; they were sold out. This would not do-- with only one pod - even though infinite - there would be skirmishes, battles, war. So I gave up on that for the moment, but discovered that the mugen company had recently introduced another infinite nanopleasure product, the Mugen Periperi (onomatopoetic term for a gentle tearing sound), which endlessly reproduces the nanopleasure of ripping that little cardboard strip off the top of a snack box. One somehow feels the urge to advise the ripper to "Get a life," but one is busy squeezing beans.

I decided to buy some pin-on buttons as a backup, since infinite soybeans seemed to be sold out everywhere, but what kind of buttons do you get for little girls, nothing treacly I decided; rather, something farly out that will inspire their inquisitive natures, no not the beautiful green marijuana leaf on a black background... I got that one to put on my beret, next to the Thoreau button. Nor that Che Guevara button... I got that one to put next to Mr. Natural on the other side of Thoreau. How about a Rolling Stone tongue button?Right next to the marijuana leaf would be good... this peace button too... do I have room for that? I didn't seem to be getting anywhere on my grandgirl gifts, so I picked out three pink vibrant flashy heart buttons.

The next day, in a last-ditch effort at infinity, after work I went to what must be one of the world emporiums for mugen itemage: Loft in Osaka. There on one of the upper floors I found the real thing, the original Mugen edamame, but they were selling fast. I grabbed a handful and fought my way to the counter, paid and they were mine. In each of the three presentbags for the girls, I finally put in one Mugen edamame and a heart button, an RS tongue button or a peace button, the recipient to be determined randomly by the order in which Echo took them out of her bag.

I can now rest, for stress relief is mine. They also sell an infinite beer can.

THREE SISTERS

The Granddaughters in their kimono
for shichi-go-san in November last year.
That's Kaya (now 6) in the middle,
Mitsuki with the formally positioned hands on the left
and Miasa, the younger twin (both now 4), on the right.

TWIN TODDLERS TAKE NO PRISONERS

It is a courageous, perhaps insane grandfather who escorts his newly walking twin granddaughters, who have in their short lives seen little of the world beyond carpets and adult knees - amateur toddlers, in other words - it is a grandfather heedless of hazards, as I say, who dares take such a fearless duo to a large toy store.

I now count myself among that questionable number of men, and am changed by the experience. As a result of my time in a toyland where everything happens at least twice, my hair is whiter, and there is less of it. Say the word 'toy' and a tremor passes through me, though the shaking diminishes within hours.

As we entered the bigger store than they had ever seen, the cute-as-identical-buttons twins, who operate as "M and M" (they're about that easy to tell apart) or - more notoriously - "The Ms," at first toddled slowly and cautiously with what I initially took for naive awe, but soon realized was reflexive planning.

Their big brown eyes were taking in everything and its exact location, how it had been placed there for their very own delight and so belonged to them and was theirs to do with as they pleased, as for example those delicately high-stacked tubes of superglue beside them or the crunchy-looking balsa wood airplanes just a toddle away. Or straight ahead: so many smiley dolls in cellophane-paned boxes! Fun to poke with two Hello Kitty ballpoints!

Though they didn't yet really know what all these toys were, they were good at throwing them. Not much accuracy, but impressive speed and savage abruptness. For example, the metal toy car being closely studied by M - as I could see from afar with her boot in my hand - was instantly ballistic, passing within inches of the brow of M, who had relentlessly toddled out of a side aisle with a glass jar of model paint in each hand, and lacking both boots.

As you may have gathered, one cunning tactic in The Ms' arsenal, in addition to their devilish strategy of being so small while looking and dressing alike, was to let their boots fall off. Not both boots at the same time: one by one. It's an evolutionary trick to distract the pursuer, much the way lizards lose their tails.

I would notice a socked foot, run back and get the boot, return and both twins would be gone (toddlers move at feral speed when unobserved). In different directions, of course; The Ms are not so foolish as to operate together. They know they can cover a lot more territory and get a lot more done if they work separately, in telepathic coordination. This is especially true in a big toy store with only one pursuing grandfather of questionable mental status, who within 5 minutes wants to take a nap.

After must've been a week of chasing up and down the aisles (amazing, the places two small creatures can hide) the twins had had enough of their first big toy store experience to last me forever. At our departure, i.e., me with one squirming, toy-reaching M in each arm and two boots in each hand, the store - like myself - was in need of thorough rearrangement much the worse for wear. The Ms, though, giggled all the way home at the fun it had been, looking forward to our next big toy store adventure, ha ha. We didn't buy any toys of course; they had all been played with anyhow, and no way I'll have those hazards around the next time M and M come to visit.