JAPAN WANTS TO SCIENTIFICALLY SLAUGHTER MORE WHALES:
We're starving over here; we need more whale analysis!

Japan wants to nearly double its desired catch of minke whales and start catching humpback and fin whales, in a plan based on Japan's argument that there is a need to increase hunting activities in order to analyze the ecosystem of the Antarctic Ocean. They are SO concerned about whale welfare it just takes away the breath of any merely common sense kind of person.

A whale-fed official from Japan's Fisheries Agency (note: not the World Fishery Agency) rote-recited to a news agency that there was "a need to consider surveying such whales... given that there has been an increase in the number of sightings, since we’re out there every day looking for any excuse to kill whales.” [That last part was mine.]

As it just so happens - and this is pure coincidence - the meat from the minke, sei and sperm whales analytically slaughtered during the sheerly scientific research program is sold commercially. Well cut my flukes off and call me a whale analyst.

Whale meat is seen as a very high-profit delicacy in Japan by well-recompensed but otherwise impartial officials in Tokyo who maintain that the tradition is an important part of the nation's cultural heritage, like placing decapitated criminals’ heads on little elevated platforms along the roads out of Edo. Hmmm… wonder why they don’t do that anymore, that was an even older tradition than whaling…

Story before I got hold of it

CHERRY ARCADE

Down in the village by the Lake at the foot of the mountain we have our own little cherry tree street - as do most villages that have survived - that is lined with cherry trees now frothing in bloom. To pass under this long arcade while walking home from the station is, as the long-time-ago cherry-tree planters well knew, a living welcome-home blessing, of subtle fragrance and flowery light, both day and evening, lifting the spirit to its natural heights, a spirit one then brings into the home.

As for me, though, who must walk thence up the mountain (when I walk), I get to pass beyond there and along the road that meanders upward along the ridge, so I get to see, through gaps here and there in the curtains of green that line the way (with an occasional cherry tree or magnolia), glimpses of the flowering wild cherry trees that here and there shine among the green that blankets the steep sides of the upper slopes. There is something magical about those wild blossomings, off by themselves in the wild wood beyond reach and for no one to see, the dance nature dances when she's alone...

TRUE BELIEVERS

Every once in a while, particularly when the weather is nice - like now - we up here on the mountain are visited by clusters of well-dressed folks of vacuous sincerity who come out from the city to walk in their high heels over my raised beds so they can get their spoken routine within earshot and interrupt my labors to hand me some brightly colored tracts outlining God’s plan for humanity and that includes me, their eyes say, as though it were a gift or at least a revelation, but I politely refuse the tracts and after pointing out God’s own asparagus on which they are treading I attempt to talk to them frankly as one being to another but it is always impossible, for true believers are limited in hearing and no longer command certain fields of thought.

Nevertheless I tell them I do not need a middleman to maintain my relations with higherness, nor do I need the conflicting words of God's many secretaries - whose descendants have been killing each other ever since - that anytime I see a sprout rise up out of the ground, hold in my hand a tiny plant with its roots shining, smell the crown of a baby's head, take a deep breath of the scent of lilac, watch a hawk ride the wind, see the stars circle the night sky or behold any other of a thousand daily miracles, I have no doubt that I am as much heaven as earth, as much now as eternity, that I therefore know lowness as well as I know highness, yesterday as well as forever, for I am those aspects embodied, I carry them within me in every cell and heartbeat, indeed as these visitors themselves do; but by then they have drifted off to trample other gardens, leaving me in the ancient company of seeds...

BIG PINK EASY CHAIRS

The cherry trees are blossoming up here now, catching up to the daphne a week or so later than down by the lake, laying that subtle fragrance down and popping pink all around, up in the forest and along the roads up here, some yellow too from the forsythia, some white from the tall tulip trees; the weeping cherry out front is just beginning its scarlet blush.

Even the scurrilous monkeys seem to be enjoying the new brightness; on our walk this morning saw a couple of saucy tribes of them, young and elder, sitting high up in the best part of the bright pink wild cherry trees as though they were big easy chairs: not eating not grooming, just sitting there, dreaming of the swelling mushrooms at my place.

NEETS, FREETERS AND PARASITE SINGLES

THE WOODPILE

Thoreau touched upon it lying golden in the sun, and as it stands there piled up through your own daily efforts, melded once more with the efforts of light over decades you see before you a measure of it all, a presence that stands upon its own as everything that is ever worthy stands: it is tall, it is built of sheer effort, it is faceted with the very truth of effort, and to make a much smaller point, it will warm you when winter comes, without fail. How much like that can we say of this world?

WEEDING

While handweeding the garden early this morning, on the rhythmic waves of that protective nurturing action my unattended mind drifted naturally to thoughts of nurturing children, how you want them to become more like radishes and lettuce than weeds unpurposed in their lives, yet you want them to be strong in their own weedy natures ("you're growing like a weed"), since they'll always rely on their weedy roots for the strengths they need to grow to fullness in their individual ways...

We've all sprung from the wild, as did these radishes and lettuces and beans, though through lives and lives in hope we weed the wildness out, knowing from our own individual pasts how special growth must surrender broader strength, conscious life hopefully focusing as largely as it can on the higher things to be gained from nourishment and light, doing much as a gardener does...

LITTLE BOY: The Arts of Japan's Exploding Subculture

"ABOUT THE EXHIBITION - The project’s title, LITTLE BOY, refers to the codename for the atomic bomb dropped on Hiroshima in 1945. Murakami’s interpretation of Japan’s popular culture and graphic arts of the past three decades is rooted in his country’s memories of the war and in the evolution of Japan’s understanding of its postwar situation. In Murakami’s view, the specific historical events and processes that inform otaku culture include military aggression and defeat in the Pacific War (1932-1945); the devastation of the atomic bomb; Japan’s military and political dependence on the United States; and, the replacement of a traditional, hierarchical Japanese culture with a disposable consumer culture ostensibly produced for children and adolescents. The title also refers to the infantalization of the Japanese culture and mindset, evident in the fixation on cartoon imagery, “cute” products and young markets a result, Murakami argues, of Japan’s economic and political dependence on the west. These unresolved conflicts, LITTLE BOY suggests, are the explosive context of Japan’s pop culture."

QUIET CITY

This is another one of those morning-on-the-train-to-the-big-city postings, so if you’re tired of those just browse around, take your time…

For me, one of the more addling aspects of commuting in Japan has always been, right from the very start of my participation in that fine art form, the number of announcements the announcers make on the trains.

When I first came here I used to wonder what in the world they could be talking about at such length to complete strangers, but now that I understand what they’re saying (when the sound system is passable) I don’t wonder all that much less. Maybe they love the sound of their own voices, maybe they have a daily word quota, but they go on and on beyond the necessary information, like simply the next stop (but six times?), transfer info, which side will be the exit, don’t forget your umbrella, but who cares about their kids or the trouble they’re having with their wives or their general health or their new car it sounds like sometimes, the way they babble on, just as you’re slipping into that very fine dream about the…

Anyway, this morning it was the usual to the tenth power because the announcer, a pretty good far-reaching tenor even without a mike, clearly loved his voice and loved to talk, but he had the sound turned up to max plus alpha and, being in his own little deaf cubicle in the last car, was unaware of the effect his every announcement was having on the poor pulp of passengers over the 45-minute ride.

If he had but glanced somewhere other than in the mirror as he made his looooong announcements he would have seen sleepers bounding awake, non-sleepers bouncing in their seats with his every blurrily announced phrase (he’d likely blown the speakers early on) “We’ve been there were going here and here and here and here we’ve been there and we’re going here and here and here and here there too thank you for taking the railway sorry the train is running a little late I say sorry the train is running a little late thank you for taking the railway don’t forget your umbrellas don’t forget your umbrellas thank you for taking the railway the exit is on the left the exit is on the left the exit is on the left there thank you for taking the railway platform x for destination y platform x for destination y thank you for taking the railway” on and on he went, even as we detrained on rubber legs.

When I got off my ears were ringing; I had never been thanked or directed so much so loudly in my life, and the teeming city seemed so quiet…

SOME PACIFIC HEADLINES ON JAPAN'S NEW HISTORY TEXTBOOK

Gov't OKs nationalist text; sex slavery glossed over

Commentary: Written lies can never cover up bloody facts

Japan approves 'nationalist' textbook

Japan Cannot Be Trusted with Its Own History

Japan approves textbook glossing wartime atrocities

S.Korea expresses anger over Japanese new history textbooks

Japanese government gives green light to distorted history ...

For such a polite people, to foster so much good will...

DANDRUFF'S DAY IN THE SUN

For decades now, dandruff has been brushed off as myriad flakes of no importance, or only negative importance at best; indeed, dandruff's place in the scheme of things has gone unsung for so long that there are no folk songs, rock songs, operas, novels or myths about the flaky phenomenon, so it comes as no surprise that clouds of dander have been ignored by climate modelers. But no longer.

At last someone with scientific credentials has come right out and said what so many dandruff producers have always secretly suspected was true: dandruff plays a key role in the big picture. Dandruff is “the right size and shape to act as nuclei for ice crystals, which in turn form clouds and rain, and thus could potentially affect weather and climate.” Even now, your very own dandruff could be working to prevent drought. Or causing floods.

On the other head, all those dandruff shampoo makers might be interfering with natural processes, possibly accelerating global warming. Maybe 10 or 20% or even more dandruff in the atmosphere would preserve the ozone layer while preventing all the glacial melting, flooding and hurricanes we've been suffering lately: who knows? (Millions scratch their heads.)

Though in the subject study dandruff is unjustly grouped with pollen, spores, bacteria, algae, fungi and viruses – confirmed troublemakers all – dander does its part in comprising a dust that could make up 25 percent of so-called aerosols (particles in the atmosphere that affect pollution, cloud formation [think rain, drought, flooding] and that can both reflect and absorb radiation from the sun [think global warming]), a dust that is found from Russia's remote Lake Baikal to the Amazon, Antarctica, the Swiss Alps and even down in Greenland ice cores - really ancient dandruff, from long before the dawn of social embarrassment.

And to the surprise of no one with dandruff, as much as 80 percent of the particulate matter collected in the study was biological in origin – oddly ranging from 15 percent over the Swiss Alps to 80 percent from the Amazon and Lake Baikal in the autumn, where at any given time you'd be hard put to find anyone brushing his or her hair.

While he is not claiming that dandruff affects global warming, the scientist who has finally struck a blow for the transcendant role of dandruff said that the tests proved dandruff etc. could easily affect cloud formation because it is comparatively low in density, small enough to travel very far, easily lifted up, lighter than desert sands (sheer poetry) that are carried across oceans and distributed easily around the world.

More proof that everything is interconnected, that a heedless hairbrusher in Peoria could unwittingly be preventing floods in Lousiana while melting glaciers in Alaska. Dandruff is complicated, and the facts aren't all in. So next time you brush off your shoulders, think of what you might be doing to marine life, deserts, big rivers and the people who live at sea level, at least until we know more....

The scientific version

FIREWOOD: THE HEFT, THE HEAVE

As over the years I've hefted and heaved firewood into the house in wind, snow, rain and just plain cold clarity, like this morning (great natural exercise), the pressure has grown steadily stronger for me to say - until I can no longer remain silent on this point - that one of my wisest utilitarian purchases ever was the nylon firewood tote from Lehman's ideal store. There. Now I can relax. In front of the warm woodstove.

CHUCK NEEDS THE HELP OF THINKING PEOPLE EVERYWHERE

"I once was blind, but now I see" takes on a different meaning outside creationism.

Darwin's Posse

WHERE WE ALL LIVE

You have to hand it to the scientists, who now “say they have succeeded in visualizing feelings of trust developing in a specific region of the brain.” The question is, can you really trust such information? I have the feeling that they’ll soon find out why we have feelings, and nail that to the barn door too. Not to put the scientists down, they’re on a quest, like every sentient being, the quest for why, which is nowhere in the brain no matter the size of the grant. Though there’s always spin, which is totally brainbound. I hope that's not where we all live now, only in the brain.

These nights, these nights
of wind-cleared air
stars gleam calm up there
with all the soul you are

HINT OF HEAVEN

There I was this morning as is my wont these days, kneeling in the driveway in the light rain after a night’s heavy rain (as to the why of it, no spoiler here, but as any fan of baptism knows, the rain washes away the surface of things and reveals the hidden). As I edged my way purposefully up toward the house, carefully scrutinizing the ground, I was suddenly bowled over into purposelessness by the rich fragrance flowing from the jinchoge (Daphne) bush, whose blossoms had for a few days now been lightly perfuming the upper air where I normally reside; but here, down where the earth is, where the cool air and rain were heading and the moment happened to find me, the whole river of jinchoge was flowing as it must in heaven, and I was awash…

I breathed deeply and again, to take in that scent with its whisper of lime lineage, that trace of orange connection, a touch of gardenia in the family perhaps, and then the modicum that makes it jinchoge. Then the heavy rain returned, so I returned into the upper air where we all live, where there is a hint of heaven.

But now I know there's more.

ANOTHER THING THAT NEVER HAPPENS IN JAPAN

One silently recurring advantage or disadvantage we US expats have twice a year in Japan occurs each year right about now, when daylight savings time doesn’t happen, and then in Fall when it doesn't happen again in reverse, allegedly screwing up our biological clocks or allegedly saving energy. Or giving workers more daylight to enjoy their after-work evenings, which anyway wouldn't happen in Japan, where salarimen don't really have evenings after work, since they're working overtime, on their biological clocks too.

Daylight Saving
You Can't Save Daylight

WHOSE EAR WAS IT WE FOUND THE BEAN IN?

"Whose ear was it we found the bean in?" Such are the questions one finds oneself asking while reminiscing the precipitous peaks and perilous pitfalls of parentage. "Which one had the finger stuck in the table leg that had to take the ambulance?" And so forth. Any veteran parent can come up with a half dozen such questions on the spot.

For as there are countless moments of grace in the long, long (add as many longs as you need, they’re free) history that parentage is, spelled of individually crawling days spent upraising the smallborn to walking and running, tricycling, bicycling, motorcycling, graduation and finally marriage, so there are timeless moments of surreality that by their temper give the whole that overall adventurous quality so enjoyed in retrospect as at no other time.

At those individual moments, of course, it is an ambulance, after all, or if you’re lucky, only as remarkable as a bean in an ear (no wonder she couldn’t hear!); thus it is more a matter of wonderment now than it was then, when phenomena like beans in dear ears, sand in familiar eyes and bumps on beloved heads were commonplace, and the inevitability of survival did not have the certainty that blessed retrospect imparts. Time gives a sheen to all things, even to stumbles and falls, bruises and cuts, tables and beans (parents feel free to fill in here), all as dear to the heart as a thorn to the skin, it doesn’t matter what nation you’re in.

Then you grandparent, and it starts all over again.

MINT JULEP

On one of our recent Spring morning walks along the Lake (where we can see all the cherry blossoms swelling with the pink news a little more each day) we found a secret bed of peppermint that had escaped into the wild and was having a vegetative ball living the low life, all its pedigree nonetheless thriving untended amid the tall grasses and other certified weeds, ignored there by local herb hunters, who have little use for mint.

The surprise of seeing it spread out beneath a tree by a stream into the Lake (there's lots of expectedly new mogusa [moxa] there, for example, and excellent wild watercress), those familiar rippled-jade leaves peeking up from down amid the pale cowlicks of wild grass was a thrill to this wild-herb hunter’s heart.

We took a sampling for tea and when it was as delicious as it was, we went back to kneel for more. This time we took bagsful and some cuttings for planting in our garden, whence it can escape onto the mountain in no time. We'll go again in a few weeks, when those square red stems will be knee-high. Getting your mint as a gift from the wild of your own time is way better than exchanging your time for colored pieces of paper to trade for it. In its own way, mint knows this too: no matter how long it’s been tended in whatever garden, it makes its way into the kindred wild, where it’s naturally happy.

Now for the Mint Julep.

THIS EVENING

Young woman walking
down dark village alley
face lit only
by her cellphone screen

PLANET LOSING PATIENCE

"The UN-backed Millennium Ecosystem Assessment Synthesis Report found that nearly two-thirds of Earth's life-supporting ecosystems, including clean water, pure air, and stable climate, are being degraded by unsustainable use...

The already grim situation may worsen dramatically during the first half of the 21st century, the report's authors warn...

"'The overriding conclusion of this assessment is that it lies within the power of human societies to ease the strains we are putting on the nature services [!?!] of the planet, while continuing to use them to bring better living standards to all...

Achieving this, however, will require radical changes in the way nature is treated at every level of decision-making and new ways of cooperation between government, business and civil society... The warning signs are there for all of us to see. The future now lies in our hands.'"

Don't hold your breath. Or maybe it's better if you do. In any case, if we don't get wise, meta-ecosystems have a way of correcting themselves...

National Geographic News