The kindness of Oscar Wilde.

Over the last few days, I watched the film "Wilde" (1997) on my laptop. The role of Oscar Wilde was played by the British comedian and author Stephen Fry.

The most lingering impression as I finished the film was the kindness in the personal character of Wilde as portrayed by Fry, which came as a warm and welcome surprise.

I think it is fair to say that Wilde was often provocative in his clever ways, as indicated by the remark attributed to him "I have nothing to declare but my genius". Wilde was making statements to the customs as he entered the United States.

With knowledge about Wilde's flamboyant manners in the background, I was tacitly assuming that the imprisonment of Wilde
was a result of his extravagance, although ultimately justifiable by aesthetic judgment by the author at that time, and by moral standards of the average citizen of today. However, the film portrayed Wilde's downfall as ultimately coming from his kindness.
Wilde was not trying to show off "the love that dare not speak its name". Quite contrary to it. Wilde was very discreet. It was the emotional confrontation between Wilde's lover, Lord Alfred Douglas (nicknamed "Bosie", wonderfully played by Jude Law) and his father the 9th Marquess of Queensberry which dragged Wilde into a court action.

Seeing the film, I realized that Oscar Wilde's downfall was a case of kindness paving one's way to destruction. Which surely happens from time to time. A sobering realization of the conditions of this strange tragicomedy we call "life".



Stephen Fry playing Oscar Wilde in the film "Wilde" (1997)

Butterfly encounters

When I was five, my mother introduced me to Mr. Ito, who was studying entomology at a University. It was Mr. Ito who introduced me into the wonderful world of insects in a professional way. I was an insect lover before this encounter always, observing and tampering with beetles and butterflies around my parents' house where my little feet could take me. With the guidance of Mr. Ito, I started to study butterflies in earnest, equipped with professional instruments.

When I look back on the long hours I spent in the woods waiting for my favorite butterflies, I realize how deeply this particular experience affected the way I look and interact with the small world around me. Butterflies are needless to say airborne entities. They emerge out of nowhere from every directions, startling you. When an interesting butterfly emerges, you need to react quite quickly, if you wanted to capture it that is.

There were many unforgettable instances where a rare species flew into your view. Your heart started to pound quite wild, and you got really nervous. The moment of truth had arrived. You tried to do your best, but often fail to do so, knowing this was a once in a lifetime chance.

These butterfly encounters would repeat themselves many times over in life, assuming different appearances and lurking in unexpected contexts, taking one by pleasant surprise. I grow by small inches by these encounters.

I am always longing for my next butterfly encounter.

Altruism

One crucial point of the argument of Richard Dawkins is that we do not need religion to explain the foundations of our morality. Scientific theories of evolution provide convincing and powerful accounts of how our ethical behaviors have evolved.

For example, origins of altruism can be explained by models of interaction between agents, where certain actions lead to the increase or decrease of utility for the parties concerned. Models suggest that "free riders" (those agents that take advantage of other agents' altruistic behavior) can certainly arise under certain conditions. However, they never become the majority. It is an obvious fact that a community consisting entirely of free riders is not sustainable. Under robust interaction conditions, altruistic behaviors naturally evolve, as they are certainly adaptive for the individual agents as well as for the community, increasing the overall utility.

Morality does not need to be explained by religious commandments, which the human beings are required to follow without questioning their origins. Even if we have a free hand in choosing what codes of actions we adopt, we can end up as reasonably altruistic, caring beings, with the bonus that we have the freedom to think through the foggy mists of unquestioned systems of beliefs.

The passion of Richard Dawkins

I watched the documentary "The Root of All Evil?" written and presented by Richard Dawkins. It was originally broadcast as a two part series on Channel 4 in U.K.

The theme is a controversial one to say the least. Professor Dawkins was courageous enough to pick up the religious hot potato. It is not that the views of Dawkins are extreme. What Dawkins says during the 90 minutes of this excellent documentary appear only fair and well-balanced for me.

People say that religion is at the top of the "A-list" of topics to be avoided in the conversation at a dinner table. Some might even argue that it is morally wrong to tamper with other people's beliefs. While the spirit of tolerance is laudable, it also freezes the status quo.

Then there comes someone who dares to go beyond the barriers of faith and make long-due remarks about the emperor's new clothes. Mind you this particular action requires diplomatic tact as well as dare-devil courage. Professor Dawkins is able to continue conversation even with people of very strong religious opinions without making an ugly scene, a remarkable feat in itself.

I admire the passion of Richard Dawkins. The passion comes from a very mature intellect, married with a deep love of the wondrous order of the universe being uncovered by scientific endeavors.


Richard Dawkins

Try to forget

I think one of the most important things in life is to forget.

As we live along, things accumulate, and the momentum becomes a killer rather than nurturer of new initiatives and unexpected twists. We start to tacitly assume that today is going to be something like yesterday, where, even if there is to be some sort of change, it is going to be at best incremental.

It is advisable therefore to forget that you have been living for these "x" years. You are entitled to feel as if you were born today. You are allowed to start things all over again, without necessarily tracing the thing that has been burdening you until yesterday.
Assignments and promises can be reducers in the endeavor to freshly start. Therefore a day, or even an hour without anything specific to do is a godsend, since you would have a free hand to do whatever you liked to do. Imagination is the only limit, and
the problem is that imagination is not wild enough most of the time.

Even if you pretend as if you have forgotten everything, there would be a continuation of neural dynamics, so that consistency is more or less maintained. Forgetting does not constitute a discontinuation of dynamics. It is just a small tiny mode change in the evolving process that goes on anyway.

So try to forget. Act as if you were born today, with brand new ambitions, dreams that are bold beyond reason, and a daredevil ignorance of what tomorrow brings.

Strike out

As a kid I was fond of playing baseball. I was not a particularly good hitter. When I was cornered into two strikes, the bad image of a strike out would pop into my mind. I try to compose myself, but the negative feeling would persist.

There's the pitch, and the ball comes towards me as if in a slow motion. I swing my bat, and sure enough, I miss the ball. Often by wide margins.

To this day, the experience of anticipating a strike out and the actually see it happening remains a persistent item in my collection of feelings. I should say that I rather enjoy the going down. Even if you strike out, there would be always another at bat.

Life is not a belt conveyor

Believe it or not, Japanese University students start the activity of searching for a company to work for ("Shukatsu") more than one year before graduation.

Students start searching for their jobs in December of their third year. Graduation would be still one year and three months away (which takes place in March here), and the academic activities are at their peak. And yet, the students would be obliged to start the job searching right in the middle of the academic year.

The companies, on the other hand, do not usually consider those who have already graduated, or have spent some time away from an institution such as a university, as potential recruits. As a result, there is a tremendous pressure on the students to "stay on course". A gap year is not allowed. For example, if you want to work as a volunteer abroad after graduating from a university, it would usually signify that you would not be able to work for a company as a "regular employee" ("Seishain"), because only the freshly graduating students can be considered for that status.

Personally, I think all this is RIDICULOUS with a capital R.

Life is not a belt conveyor. People make random walks, and are well advised to do so, as they would learn lots of valuable things in wandering around. If you are managing the recruiting process of a company, it would be only sensible to look for people with various different backgrounds, as the survival in the competitive market today would require a diversity of talents, including those who are able to potentially support themselves independent of an institution.
The current Japanese custom, where the big companies consider only fresh graduates as candidates for employment, is not only foolish from economical point of view, but also, needless to say, constitutes a serious infringement of basic human rights. It should be rectified ASAP.

Until I seat myself under that great cherry tree.

Nowadays, I am very uneasy. I look up at the sky from time to time, and think when it must be. Should it be on Saturday, Sunday, or sometimes in the next week? There is not an easy answer. All my agitations are caused by the arrival of cherry blossoms.

First it is the hint of mildness in the cold air. Then the sudden sweet turn of the sunshine. Something in my heart starts to move. And before you know it, the cherry blossoms are blooming. It is difficult to predict when the flowers would be in full bloom. It is like reading your lover-to-be's mind on your first date.

The cherry trees are everywhere in Tokyo. They do not usually bear fruits. The Someiyoshino cherry was developed in the Edo era, and due to the flourishing beauty of blooms, has been adapted and cultivated everywhere. Spring is their prime show time.

Until we perform our annual hanami ("flower admiring") ritual, my state of agitation would persist. I look for the place, I search for the time. I am in a constant motion in search of the fulfillment of my heart, until I seat myself under that great cherry tree.

Togetsukyo bridge

I have been to the wonderful Arashiyama district in the suburbs of Kyoto many times, starting from the school trip at the age of 15. For some reasons, I have never crossed the Togetsukyo bridge. I do not have the faintest idea why I have not gone to the other side. It is a famous bridge, a popular tourist destination, and may people make a point of crossing the bridge, and see the river from the other side. Coming to think about it, it is strange that it never occurred to me to venture into the other side. But then I have never thought about it consciously, as if to avoid something.

Seen from the familiar Sagamino area, the other side of the Togetsukyo bridge always seemed to belong to another world. It was as if the beyond belonged to some fairy kingdom, or, more aptly, "Higan" ("The Other Side"), an important concept in Buddhist philosophy.

Yesterday the precedent was broken. I did cross the Togetsukyo bridge and go to the other side. As the fantasy materialized, it transfigured itself into a rather mundane collections of contemporary buildings, with commonplace souvenir shops and restaurants. My Higan of 30 years has disappeared.

Words of passion

I once heard that Mr. Ivica Osim, when he was serving as the head coach of the Japanese national football team, used to say to the players "Run, run, and run!".

Once, a player complained that his legs were aching. He could not run due to the pain. Mr. Osim then famously said: "Think of a wild rabbit. Would the rabbit ask the fox to wait, because one of his legs was aching?"

Mr. Osim's words were apparently a paraphrase of Vladimir Lenin, who once remarked that it was important to "leran, learn, and learn".

Sturm und Drang. These are words of passion. I sometimes come back to these words in my difficult times.

It has always been a puzzler for me

This morning, Google is rumored to walk out of China after failure of negotiation with the local government.

It is interesting to compare the reasoning of the two parties concerned. Google is putting forward freedom of information, which, according to the views held by many, has been the driving force of human civilization. China is referring to the "stability of society" as the reason for needing censorship, which, while having a practical significance for those concerned (for those in the power, that is), do not have a comparable stronghold as freedom of information in the history of human civilization.
It is interesting that, whenever such confrontations arise, it appears that one party has a clear, explicit statements of the principles involved, while the other, while being equally obstinate, can cite only practical and ad hoc reasons to support their particular actions and choices.

Having born and been bought up in Tokyo, I know from my own experiences that going back to the first principles is not the practice of many people. I was trained as a physicist, and a physicist always does that--going back to the first principles. And yet, even before studying physics seriously, I was in favor of the first principles approach as a kid, while my friends were not necessarily so.

In my view, the confrontation between Google and China is not simply a question of different cultures, where "different cultures" suggest some sort of symmetry between two equally valuable oddities. It is rather, from my own viewpoint, the question of whether one stands by and consider it desirable to always come back to the first principles of civilization.
It has always been a puzzler for me why some people don't care about the first principles and go about in life following only practical interests. Since I am so accustomed to that particular aspect of human nature, I am not at all surprised by the actions of the Chinese government. I am just intrigued, and go on following my own instinct, rather enjoying the minority status that comes with that attitude.

Nowadays, with the advent of the internet, every place has become a center.

I came to the city of Kan-Onji on the Shikoku island to meet with Dr. Michiyo Okada, who is a specialist on teaching children with special backgrounds and nees.

The city of Kan-Onji is a tranquil place on the Setonaikai sea. When I came to this kind of place before, I used to think that I am now far from the center. Nowadays, with the advent of the internet, every place has become a center.

Dr. Okada is making some remarkable observations and discoveries while teaching the students. In that sense, Kan-Onji is the center. I came to learn valuable things all the way from Tokyo to this center of humanistic learning.

Asking oneself what one really wanted to do with one's life in the first place.

March is the graduation time in Japan. Many school hold the graduation ceremony, where students receive the certificates and sing special songs.

The fact that March signifies the end of something, while the anticipations arise for things to come, has taken a deep root in the Japanese psyche.

Spring is in the air. The cherry blossoms are not in bloom yet, but the expectancies are ripening. The combination of these emotional elements have would lead to a poignant mood which can only be experienced at this time of the year.

For this writer, this particular March signifies the end of many things, as well as the prospects for others. It is a time of transition. In such a period of change, one reviews what has been essential in one's life, checking this fact and re-evaluating that, asking oneself what one really wanted to do with one's life in the first place.

In winter many things in nature perish, and thrive again with the advent of spring. I wonder if life is not like that. From the ashes, green leaves shoot up, bearing flowers unknown and exotic in the prime of summer.

There had to be substitutes for the real thing.

The Mount Fuji is an easily recognizable volcano mountain, and its shape is recognized by people in Japan.

The other day I went to a restaurant in Sapporo, the northern capital of Hokkaido, and discovered a wooden engraving of the famous mountain. Even a very simplistic representation of the mountain outline can suggest the rich cultural connotations surrounding the now dormant volcano.

In many places, a mock-up of mount Fuji would be made to worship its image. In the rural town where I was brought up, there was an artificial mount Fuji, on top of which one could find a stone monument. In the old days it was difficult for people to travel, and there had to be substitutes for the real thing.

As I witnessed the black insects walk about among the microcosmos of Persian speedwells

A human brain likes surprises, and mine is no exception. Every year, in spring, I used to be surprised as a kid to see the first signs of spring. The blue flowers of Persian speedwell (Veronica persica Poiret) would often be the very first manifestations of the beautiful in life to be brought to my attention in early spring.

The other day, walking along Tokyo streets, I suddenly remembered how I used to be joyous when I witnessed these lovely blue flowers. It was always perceived as quite unexpected. One year would have passed since last spring, and you simply have forgotten that there were such things as the Persian speedwells. So it always came as a pleasant shock to observe the tiny flower petals again.

The absence of these spring ephemerals from my consciousness signaled a change in the way I go about in my life. I used to walk along the bare earth quite a lot, stooping to the sides from time to time. It was an every day ritual to wander around and observe the changes in nature. Nowadays, I just speed through the pavements and stairs without even stopping to look around, a poor soul ever trapped in the list of things to do.

Due to the negligences, the elegant blue of the Persian speedwells has disappeared from my life. Yesterday I wanted to rectify that.

On the way to NHK, I sidestepped into the Yoyogi park. I was in search of my past. Persian speedwells were something quite common in my childhood. The only question was whether I could time travel.

The blessing came in an instant. There they were, just under the trees, those tiny blue flowers of the Persian speedwells. They must have been there all these years, without me noticing them.

I sat down, took out my amazon kindle, and then thought better of it. It was not time to delve into the universe of tiny letters, which I could do at any time anyway. It was time to observe the environment, with all its grandeur and nuances.

The ants were there. Those small, hard-working creatures. As I witnessed the black insects walk about among the microcosmos of Persian speedwells, something in me melted away to reveal a long-forgotten core of the unchanging.



The Persian speedwell flower found on the Yoyogi park slope yesterday.

The free system would gradually outgrow the controlled system.

At least a part of human history can be regarded as a competition between different systems based on different philosophies and sets of values. The competition between the "free" and "market economy" countries and the "communist" or "socialist" ones leading to and during the cold war era and beyond was one typical example.

For some periods, it can appear that the tightly regulated systems have an edge. In the years around the Great Depression, for example, it seemed that the "free world" was in shambles, and the socialist system, i.e. the Soviet Union at that time, had an edge. But trends at one period can be deceiving. We all know what actually happened after that.

In today's world, a new type of competition is emerging. At one end, we have a more or less free system where different ideas and opinions compete in the economical and political context. At the other end, we have a social system where things are tightly controlled, without a democratic election, and limited access to the internet.

At one period, it may appear that the controlled system is economically thriving. People might succumb to the allurements of control at one time, as it is certainly easier for the politicians (those in the power, that is), and superficially benevolent for the "stability" of society. In the long run, however, it is my bet that the free system would gradually outgrow the controlled system. And I have no intention of approving or even advocating the control approach.

Symbols are very powerful, and can reach the very bottom of your soul.

I happened to see a clip from the old Godzilla series yesterday ("Mothra vs. Godzilla"). Originally, the film was released in 1964, when I was 2. I remember seeing the film in a theatre just before I entered the primary school. It must have been one of the re-runs.

Godzilla appeared to be something of primordial brutality when I watched it as a kid. The way the monster was depicted, it was clear that there was no way of establishing a means of communication with it. Of course, as the Godzilla theme developed over many films, the monster "evolved" to display some comical features. It even played baseball in a film co-featuring some sea monsters. In the beginning, however, Godzilla was portrayed as a leviathan moving about on its own instincts, where nothing is negotiable. And it is in this primitive context that Godzilla impressed the young child.

As many point out, Godzilla has something to do with the collective trauma of the Japanese people in the post-war era, especially as regards the atomic weapons.

It is interesting to consider, even as I was not aware of the detailed history of my mother land in the years preceding my birth, I was somehow unconsciously affected by the implications, in the reception of the way Godzilla was portrayed when it destroyed the landscapes of contemporary Japan. Symbols are very powerful, and can reach the very bottom of your soul without knowing it.


Godzilla

It is priceless to be thus taken unawares by surprise, in a ritual of life repeated every year.

During the winter, all biological forms enter a kind of dormant phase. Human beings are no exceptions. While we go about busily along the streets, a part of our sensitivities are closed, becoming oblivious of the possibilities of existence. For example, we forget that there are such things as flowers.

Every year, from February to March, it therefore comes as a pleasant surprise to observe the arrival of spring ephemerals, in the form of plum blossoms. You know from experience that there are these tiny and lovely blooms in early spring. And yet, you have forgotten about it, and it is with a shock to observe the manifestations of life on the seemingly lifeless boughs of plum trees.
It is priceless to be thus taken unawares by surprise, in a ritual of life repeated every year, celebrating the continuation of the world as we know it.



Plum blossoms, red and white, in the Yugawara district. Beginning of March, 2010.

What a great job Socrates did in ancient Greek

One of the greatest disappointments in life is that there are so many intolerant people. It hurts me deeply, when I see somebody carelessly emitting remarks of discrimination, inconsideration, and of lacking understanding. It hurts me still, when I discover that somebody in question is quite sure of his or her own opinion, never doubting the truth of the extreme view that he or she holds.

It is at such a time that I seriously consider the limits of human intellect and imagination, and what a great job Socrates did in ancient Greek. Socrates stressed the importance of the awareness of his own ignorance. How more intelligent could a human being be rather than to know that he or she does not know everything? Even if one makes a judgment about something, since he or she needs to make a judgment from time to time, a person of wisdom would take the own judgment with a grain of salt.


Socrates

I rather enjoyed the experience of being sick in bed.

I used to take some days off when I was a pupil. When I had cold, I would say to my mother, "mom, I have fever", and lie in bed the whole day.

I would listen to the radio, and read my favorite books. I would ask my mother to bring my favorite foods, such as a pudding, and eat them straight away beside the bed.

You guessed it right. I rather enjoyed the experience of being sick in bed.

Nowadays, I seldom spend the day in bed even if I feel not so well. Yesterday, according to my own standards in childhood, I would have been classified as sick. I sneezed, and felt feverish. Despite the deterioration, I stalked the streets of Tokyo all right, and worked diligently once at desk.

When I look back on the carefree pupil days when I could take the day off just like that, my heart is filled with a strange and sweet nostalgia.