Compensations

The basic thesis is that memories of the past are not fixed. They transform themselves and change their shapes and appearances every time you return to them.

When I was into the low teens, I suddenly became seized by Lucy Maud Montgomery's "Anne of Green Gables" series. I first read all the Japanese translations, and went on to read the originals. It was actually the Anne series, together with J.R.R. Tolkien's "The Lord of the Rings" trilogy, that kick-started my serious build-up of English as a foreign language.

I carried my enthusiasm somehow into the low twenties. I have been to Prince Edward Island twice.

Recently, I was reflecting on how I enjoyed this particular piece of juvenile literature, when I suddenly realized a hidden agenda.

One of the things that attracted me at that time was the beauty of the nature depicted in the writings. The famous landscapes in the novel such as "the lake of shining waters", "the haunted woods", etc. captured the imagination of the young me. I have been aware of this line of influence, but I had not realized that this sentiment had a lot to do with the destruction of environment that went with the rapid economical growth of Japan at the time of my childhood.

When I was a kid, the forests that I loved would be suddenly destroyed. As I visited my favorite woods after some period, it was not unusual to see the trees having been cut down, with bulldozers doing an immeasurable damage, revealing the bare soil, the men working seemingly without any pains in their conscience. As I look back, I realize that these incidents were deeply hurting to the naive person that was me.

Reflections make it seem likely that the Anne series in a sense provided the much needed psychological compensations for the natural beauties that rapidly disappeared from my childhood environment. Avonlea (the imaginary village in which Anne Shirley lives) represented in my mind an ideal place to inhabit where the enchantments of your childhood are preserved for ever, in a time capsule the existence of which is not to be hoped for in the real world.

Under cover

I experienced my first snow of this winter in the northern town of Yamagata, which I am visiting as one of the judges for the students' graduation work competition in the Tohoku University of Art and Design (TUAD). Mr. Tatsuo Miyajima, the renowned artist of digital magic, kindly invited me to this occasion. Mr. Miyajima is the vice president of the University.

Since I came to Yamagata yesterday, people have been mentioning the unusually warm winter, on the taxi, on campus, in the museum. The snow flakes, which started to fall from the sky as I watched out of the hotel window this morning, came as a relief and brought a sense of return to the normal.

As the white fall covered everything from the grounds to roads and roofs, for as far as I could see, I pondered on the soothing power of the "cover".

Leonard da Vinci famously drew a "see through" illustration depicting the various anatomical features of a man and a woman in the act of love making. A romantic sentiment thrives on things deeply buried under the surface, being enthralled by and drawn to hidden enigmas and the slightest hints.

Being hidden is not a patent of the immortals. The omnipotent thrives in its glory for the very reason that its essence and substance is eternally under cover.

We cannot live with unsolved mysteries. There is an essential nourishment for the soul in everything hidden. The incidental snowfall brought the much needed enlightenment to the world down under and myself.

Mushroom

The composer Tetsuji Emura is working on a composition based on my poem (see the 31st December 2006
entry of this blog.)

When Tetsuji came to lecture at Geidai (Tokyo National University of Fine Arts and Music), he talked about how the composer John Cage used to love mushrooms.

Betraying the various connotations that swirled in the listeners' minds, Tetsuji went on to mention in a cool manner.

That is because the word "mushroom" is listed next to the word "music" in a dictionary.

The first kiss

The other day I went on air as the guest in the early morning FM radio program (on J-wave) hosted by the actor Tetsuya Bessho. When I asked Tetsuya how he distinguished acted love affairs on stage from the real ones in life, he replied that it was difficult to separate the two when he was young. I mentioned some films by Abbas Kiarostami, in which the stage and real life often get mixed, and a lively conversation followed.

Then Tetsuya said something quite interesting. For some female actors, especially those who make their debut early in life, it can so happen that their very first kiss takes place on stage in the process of acting. I could not get too emotional as I was on air, but I felt this strange pang in my heart and wept secretly in my soul.

There is a first time only once. To experience the first act of love's tender caressing on the stage, what a strange and enchanting procession of life it is! Acting, thrusted forward by the energy taken from the fountains of life, what an enigmatic occupation!

At the end of the day, however, intricate and often impenetrable arrangements by the divinity notwithstanding, the true first kiss must remain the one with whom one is bonded in heart.

Backsides of unturned stones

I am now in the westernmost town of the Honshu Island, Shimonoseki. I have come here to deliver a series of lectures.

This town is an unforgettable place in the modern history of Japan, as it served as one of the gateways to the external world. The connotations and contexts subdue with the passage of time, but memory remains, deep down in the psyche, transforming our everyday life as we know it.

Japan is a heavily centralized nation in terms of media network. Almost all the keystations of television are based in Tokyo, with a few exceptions in Osaka. There are certain tendencies and mannerisms that arise from this aerial asymmetry between Tokyo and the local towns, which I don't particularly like. I don't want to be thrown into this context of geopolitical asymmetry which many people actually take for granted.

When I visit towns new to my soul, I try to identify, beyond all the superficial appearances, an immobile structure withstanding the change of time, something beyond linear imagination, those which cannot be communicated or transported easily and therefore stand unnoticed for casual passers-by.

I try to picture in mind how life will be if I lived in the remote town. How I would develop my career, meet friends, weather an early morning rain, nurture and dream. I smell the scent of the long-forgottens, backsides of unturned stones, and the little fishes beneath the ever running water of life.

I try to tear the screens covering my inner eyes away so that I can see the world around me afresh.

Little Britain

I've been seeing lots of British comedies. Among the many excellent entries into the genre, I think "Little Britain" is truly an innovation. I have watched it repeatedly. The DVDs are gems on my desk top. When I go on a trip lasting for a few days, I take them for my own personal entertainment before I go to sleep.

The jokes are directed towards the social taboos in a very intelligent way. Take the treatment of prejudices, for example. It is not the discriminated people, but rather the prejudiced themselves, that suffer. When an old lady (played magnificently by David Walliams) eats a piece of biscuit and discovers that it has been made by an object of her prejudice, it is she that gets sick and eventually throws up (in a gigantic whale-like way, indeed!), while people around her keep calm and cool. This format, I think, is an intelligent comment on the still remnant prejudices in societies around the world, in the United Kingdom or otherwise.

During my stay in the U.K, I used to watch the "Shooting Stars" progam. I did not realize until recently that George Dawes, the "giant baby" character in the show was actually played Matt Lucas, until I looked up "Little Britain" in wikipedia some time ago.

I have the greatest respects to Matt and David for their excellent scripts and unbelievable acting.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/comedy/littlebritain/

Brownie Points

Mr. Seiichiro Watanabe, Founder and CTO of NuCore Technology Inc. based in San Jose was the guest in this week's shoot of "The Professionals "program.

Here's what happens basically in the shootings which usually takes place in the studio 102 of NHK broadcast center. I and my co-presenter Ms Miki Sumiyoshi chat with the guests for about three to four hours, during which there are moments when we feel we are just that close to the core of the soul of each other. This long conversation is then edited into a condensed footage of about 15 minutes in the actual broadcasts.

The conversation with Mr. Watanabe was quite stimulating. In particular, it was interesting when Mr. Watanabe mentioned that in the Silicon Valley culture failures count as valuable brownie points in one's c.v. as well as successes.

Masters

Yesterday was the presentation and examinations day for the masters degree candidates in the Department of Computation Intelligence and Systems Science of the Tokyo Institute of Technology.

From my laboratory, three students stood up to the challenge. Ms Fumi Okubo presented her work on jealousy as a problem of dividing resource in a three-party game. Mr. Tomomitsu Herai examined how agency and intention affected temporal order judgments of visual and auditory stimuli, and Mr. Eiichi Hoshio reported on the interplay between object recognition and spatial cognition in a cyberspace.

When they entered the graduate school, they knew almost nothing about the brain or cognitive science. After two years of Kandel's book reading, a hundred or so journal clubs and several international conferences, they were now up to the job, with pride shining in their eyes, although understandably intimidated by the prospect of being closely examined by the eminent scholars.

To my joy and relief, they all passed the exam. We had a celebrations drink in our cozy seminar room. It was one of the happiest days in the recent history of my humble life.

Batting center

Batting centers are popular in Japan. The other day I was watching a T.V. program about a man who was the "home run champion" in a batting center in Osaka. He would go into the cage everyday, and produce lots of home runs, by hitting the "home run mark" placed on the far side net. He was a retired old man.

The T.V. crew was interviewing the champ, when the hitter suddenly remarked that he knew that the center was going to be closed soon, due to financial situations. Watching, I felt a strange pang in my heart, realizing that the champ's local fame was to end.

The home run man flourished on the "secure base" of the batting center. When the batting center is gone, so would be the champ. Some may laugh and ridicule a fame based on such a humble foundation. But what essential difference is there between a batting center in Osaka, and other seemingly "gigantic" secure bases, like, well, the earth. When a huge meteorite hits the earth, the human civilization will be gone. After all, our glories and miseries are nurtured on this humble chunk of rock swirling around the sun.

Look at a little orchid blooming in a tiny pocket of a tree in a steaming jungle. That orchid is us!

In the eyes of the almighty, maybe there is no essential difference between the batting center and the earth as a vulnerable secure base for the flesh and spirit to thrive.

Blackboard

I did very well at school, and teachers, seeing that I was scientifically oriented, recommended that I go to a medical school in the future. When I replied that I wanted to be a physicist, they would say "that is wonderful, but you cannot make money". I couldn't care less, and do not regret the result of my youthful inclination to this day.

Albert Einstein was the hero in my childhood. When I was about 10, I read the biography of Albert Einstein written by Leopold Infeld. I was fascinated by the whole thing--theory of relativity, Einstein the man, and the wonderful world of theoretical physics. I had this vision of two scientists at the blackboard, scribing mathematical equations unintelligible to the laymen, discussing the mysteries of the universe for hours on end, oblivious of whatever was happening around them. That image stayed with me, inspiring me with a sense of enchantment and fascination.

When I visited the Isaac Newton Institute in the University of Cambridge, I discovered to my joy that the love of the blackboard was obviously still rampant among some minds. There were blackboards everywhere, so that the mathematically oriented could write down their arguments wherever and whenever they liked. To my surprise and joy, there were blackboards even in the men's room. Whether there was one also in the women's I could not confirm for obvious reasons.
Once I happened to notice a interesting graffiti on one of the blackboards in the men's room. It said: I discovered a fatal flaw in Wiles' proof. However, this margin is too small to contain it.

It happened to be a short while after Andrew Wiles announced his now famous proof of Fermat's last theorem in the lecture room adjacent to the men's room in the institute.

Spoken Kant

Currently I am reading "Kant. A Very Short Introduction" by Roger Scruton (Oxford University Press), and found the following passages quite amusing and inspiring.

The philosopher J. G. Hamann records that it was necessary to arrive in Kant's lecture room at six in the morning, one hour before the professor was due to appear, in order to obtain a place...

Kant had a peculiarly skillful method of asserting and defining metaphysical concepts, which consisted, to all appearances, in carrying out his inquiries in front of his audience; as though he himself had just begun to consider the question, gradually adding fresh determining concepts, improving bit by bit on previously established explanations, and finally arriving at a definitive conclusion of his treatment of the subject, which he had thoroughly examined from every angle, having given the completely attentive listener not only a knowledge of the subject, but also an object lesson in methodical thought...

(both quotations from page 5 of the aforementioned book)

In Phaedrus, Plato quotes Socrates as remarking that spoken word is superior to written words, since the former is alive and the latter is dead.

It is true that there is something very special about spoken words. Notably, the impression one gets from a person through written and spoken words can be very different. The discrepancy between the "heard" and "read" personalities, so to speak, is one of the most interesting and potentially nourishing aspects of human interaction.

The late philosopher Wataru Hiromatsu, who lectured in the University of Tokyo for many years, was notoriously difficult to read. As an undergraduate, I did not take his course, and was unconsciously avoiding the intractability of his philosophy.

One day Ken Shiotani (my best friend, the "fat philosopher") invited me to join the Japan-U.S. conference on phenomenology, and there I met with the philosopher himself for the first time. Prof. Hiromatsu in person was very gentle, sensitive, and attentive to people around him. Actually, noticing that I was somebody obviously outside the philosophical circle, at one time during the conference he kindly suggested that I say something from the scientist's point of view. His impression was like that of a gentle spring breeze coming through the nodding boughs in a forest sprinkled with rays of sunshine.

I just wonder what kind of impression the live Emanuel Kant would have given me had I lined up in the queue at the Konigsberg University from six in the morning and listened to his lecturing.

Janus 21

Janus 21

pp. 4-9

SEE THE WORLD THROUGH
THE BRAIN’S EYES |
Marleen Wynants enquires on the unusual phenomenon
of Change Blindness with neuroscientist Ken Mogi

http://www.janusonline.net/

Philosophical PTSD

Warning: What follows should be read in the spirit of a light-hearted joke and not as a serious report of my medical condition!

Recently, I realized that I must have been suffering from a PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder). The definition of PTSD states that "the experience must involve actual or threatened death, serious physical injury, or a threat to physical and/or psychological integrity". My own experience has a lot to do with the last bit, namely "a threat to psychological integrity".

When I entered university, I came to know Ken Shiotani, who remains my best friend to this day. I used to hang out with him, walk on the campus, and discuss philosophically inclined problems as any bunch of aspiring young students would do.
Twenty something years later, Ken Shiotani is an independent philosopher, known in the Japanese scholastic community for his intractable but profoundly-sounding remarks.

In the sweet spring of life in which we were ignorant but angry young men, Shiotani was already a VERY intractable man. I would listen to him for hours on end, trying to decipher his intentions and meanings, ultimately in vain. He had a genius of saying things which were very non-trivial, sounding as if there was some truth hidden behind the intractability, but never assuring the listener of really having come to grips with the very foundation of what he was trying to say.

I have come to know many scholars since, but I have never met anyone like Shiotani. Bumping into him on the campus in the spring of the sweet age of eighteen was a very rare incident. Had I not met him, I would not have been exposed to the vintage intractability of his that I have somehow learned to take for granted.

Looking back, my experience is rather like that of a child growing up under the care of a unique parent. The child would not realize the specialness of the situation, and would tacitly assume that the world as a whole is something like his or her own actually quite unique experience.

Having had to somehow come to terms with his intractability has been the cause of my youthful and philosophical PTSD.

The other day I was having some drinks with Shiotani. I jokingly remarked to him that "I must be suffering from a PTSD because of you". I explained to him why I think so. He took his glasses off, and said, laughing, "and I have been actually thinking that at least you, of all people, would understand what I am saying!"

There began another chapter of our beautiful friendship.



Ken Shiotani having a go again at his "intractable lecturing" in a temple in Kyoto.

Global warming

So there is this craze about global warming. The former U.S. presidential candidate Al Gore is enlightening the public ("An Inconvenient Truth), and the level of awareness among laypeople is justifiably rising.

Given the robustness and diversity of phenotypes, I personally think life as a whole will cope, no matter what happens to the earth's environment, within the range of what is predicted in the phenomenology of climate change.

Global warming has been created by human civilization, and is a menace to human civilization as we know it. It serves our self-interest to tend to this problem seriously.

The disappearing species due to an environmental change will be replaced by newly emerging ones in the long term, as is evidenced by, for example, the "Cambrian explosion" after the end of the "snowball earth" period. The argument that global warming will destroy the existing species is thus based on our sentimental attachment to the present world in which we find ourselves in.

The makers of the film "An Inconvenient Truth" was hitting the right spot when a beautiful river scene was inserted to depict the loveliness of the earth. Sentimentality is an expression of the instinct of self-perpetuation, the foundation for all that is life.

Pro-life crazy

There are crazy things in life. If there are two kinds, pro-life crazy and anti-life crazy, I firmly believe that the former will eventually win, as we are living organisms and cannot do otherwise. There are people who advocate discrimination, hatred, destruction, doomsday scenarios. But since these are anti-life crazy sentiments, they will always be remain a second violin, if not a awful noise (which they are likely to be, actually!), in the great orchestra of life.
I would always like to be pro-life crazy, when I look up to the moon, dance in the spring air, dash through the streets in Tokyo.

Linguistic Turmoil

I was reading a recent book by Genichiro Takahashi ("The Novels of Japan--A hundred years of solitude", written in Japanese, translation of the title mine). I am going to write a review for the Yomiuri Shimbun newspaper, the largest circulation daily here.
During the perusal, I found resonance in Mr. Takahashi's appraisal of the origins of the modern literature in this country.

In the Meiji period, Japan was playing a game of catch up in the wake of an encounter with the Western civilization, which started with the end of the Edo period when the country had been closed to outside world for more than 200 years. Takahashi's thesis is that the basic format of Japanese literature was coined in the crush of different cultures in that era.

The other day I was having conversation with the novelist Masahiko Shimada. We agreed that great works of literature are nurtured when a linguistic system is in turmoil through the interaction with other culture. The impressive lineup of authors of prose from Ireland (James Joyce, Oscar Wilde, George Bernard Shaw) must surely due to the difficult linguistic situations in that country.

Thus, some good can come from a linguistic turmoil, although politically it is often traumatic. It pays to open one's heart and
absorb exotic cultures. Conservative people always talk about "a proper usage" of language and hate influences from outside. That kind of protective attitude is a paranoia. More importantly, linguistic purity is not sustainable, from the viewpoint of the physiology of the living organism which is language.

Interaction Simultaneity

Interaction Simultaneity


The Origin of Consciousness blog

31st January 2007

http://origin-of-consciousness.blogspot.com/　

Complex

I met with one of Japan's most popular "idol" of the time, Eriko Sato who have starred in some films e.g., "Cutie Honey" (2004). The session was for a magazine article in which Ms. Sato tries to learn a series of stuff from people in various fields.

It was interesting to hear how Ms. Sato went into the business of being an idol. When she entered the junior high school, she started to become very popular among boys. People began to take notice of her figures, and that's how she got into considering a career in the show business.

People often talk about the "inferiority complex". A "superiority complex" (here used in a literal sense and not necessarily in the sense as defined by Alfred Adler) must be at least as traumatic sometimes, judging from the talks of people under pressure.

If god is almighty, he (or she) should suffer occasionally from a superiority complex.

Snow

When I was a kid, the first snow of the year would always fall sometime in December in the Tokyo suburb where I lived with my parents. Looking back, it was strange how a small soul such as myself got to learn the regularities of the world. No adult ever told me when I should expect the white blessing from the sky above. In the child's psychology, I would always look up expectantly, when in the December sky some clouds gathered to darken the earth below.

With the first snow, I was psychologically "ready" to welcome the new year.

Recently, possibly due to the effects of global warning, we have less and less snow around Tokyo. It is not unusual now that no snow ever falls on ground in December, or throughout winter. Thus, my childhood's annual ritual of the heart is now moot.

Climate change affects many things. My precious memory is one.

My own life as a classic.

I don't claim to know what a "classic" really entails, but it appears to me that it is something that provides one with new findings of significance and meaning every time one returns to it.

Right now I am reading "The Problems of Philosophy" by Bertrand Russell, and this classic provides us with many fresh insights and directions for further thoughts. The discussion on the ambiguity of "what is real" taking the example of the "sense-data" of a desk, for example, is quite interesting from the modern cognitive scientific point of view.

I suppose everyone who is intelligent enough to visit this blog :-) would have his or her favorite list of classics. I would suggest here that memories of one's own life can be added to the time-honored list.

A modern rational man has this idea that the past is gone once and for all and fixed. The fixed past concept is certainly true from the physical point of view, but one's own past can be a rich source for self-reflection, uncovering hidden secrets every time one returns to it. In this sense, the past is still living and evolving.

Recently I have been reflecting on my own life a lot, as I walk though the streets of Tokyo and in moments of silence in the bar. I have uncovered some hidden secrets. The realization of those buried agenda in my past has helped me understand the person that is me better and gain a better focus as I face the challenges in years to come.

I will give an example below.

After I graduated from the Physics department of University of Tokyo, I went on to study in the Law department of the same university. This change of subject was superficially induced by my girl friend at that time, who was studying law. But as I look back, I think I was secretly affected by the "zeitgeist" in the era of the "bubble economy", in which people had a tendency to worship money and what would be called today "celebrity culture".

At that time, Japan was at the height of illusory sense of extravagance, when it was rumored that the total value of land in Japan exceeded that of the United States. It seems ridiculous, with the benefit of hindsight, but people truly believed in the modern version of fairy tale for a few years.

In that superficial culture, striving to do something in the basic sciences seemed to be odd and out of date. My girl friend left me for another law school student. I was in a state of spiritual emergency. I needed a way out for my soul badly.
As I look back, I understand how I was affected by the memes of bubble economy, dumped by my girl friend. I think I recovered from the fall in a long, gradual and painful process.

Sadly, the country itself is probably yet to recover from the spirit of contempt and ridicule towards anything intellectual, judging from the "variety" shows being broadcast on Japanese television. However, it is not a time for finger pointing. It is a time for actions of good will.