When we are talking about contingencies, we should always remember that it is ultimately the nature of cognition of each subject that determines their nature, although certainly affected by the objective statistics of events.
The same situation can be the source of different contingency for different people. For an experienced skier, a snowy slope would not present a high degree of contingency. For a novice wearing ski boards for the first time, even standing still on the snow slope can be a problem.
For a patient being told that she has cancer, the life suddenly becomes full of contingencies. For the medical doctor who is treating her, the diagnosis of cancer should be accompanied with less uncertainties, based on his expertise and accumulated experience as a specialist in the field.
Thus, contingencies are sometimes very personal. In order to encounter an interesting case of contingency, one sometimes needs to actively search for it.
Appropriately presented contingency is a necessary "food" for the brain's learning process. One should always be "contingency aware" in the course of one's life, always assessing in a metacognitive process the nature of contingencies that one is currently encountering in life.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Friday, May 14, 2010
Contingency and learning.
Contingencies, the mixture of predictability and unpredictability in the occurrence of events, has an important significance in nurturing our brains. If everything follows some already known rules, there is nothing to learn any more. If, on the other hand, the events occur in a random manner, as in the case of thrown dices, there isn't anything to learn either, except for the realization that the statistics of dice indeed exhibits randomness. Any "learning" beyond that would be due to a gambler's fallacy.
Thus, it is always the case that a mixture of predicable and unpredictable elements provides an opportunity for learning. It is not that the unpredictable elements monotonously decreases as the learning progresses. It is rather that learning new regularities leads to a structuring of the world, in which newly unpredictable aspects of events emerge in our cognition. Thus, the brain is playing an incessant game of pursuit and chase, in which the unpredictable is never diminished to nothingness.
Thus, it is always the case that a mixture of predicable and unpredictable elements provides an opportunity for learning. It is not that the unpredictable elements monotonously decreases as the learning progresses. It is rather that learning new regularities leads to a structuring of the world, in which newly unpredictable aspects of events emerge in our cognition. Thus, the brain is playing an incessant game of pursuit and chase, in which the unpredictable is never diminished to nothingness.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
People are mirrors.
Reflecting on my own life, I find that people are often mirrors on which I see my own reflection. This particular viewpoint, obviously, is related to the recent discovery of the mirror neurons. But the idea is not necessarily based on, and restricted by, the neurophysiological findings of today.
When I meet someone with whom I resonate, I discover and confirm what kind of person I am. The counterpart then becomes a magnifier of my own personal traits. When my counterpart finds pleasure in the same kind of things, I feel that my own dispositions are socially approved and consolidated.
On the other hand, I do sometimes meet people with polar views and sensitivities. Even when I present something valuable and dear to me, they would receive it with cool and sometimes even disdainful reactions. When I was young, I found myself unduly hurt by such a behavior. But gradually, I came to realize that such an occasion of miscommunication actually provided a significant opportunity to recognize my own self.
People are mirrors, when they are resonant, AND when they are dissonant. Every day, with the encounters with various kinds of people both young and old, passionate or quiet, I see millions of reflections of my own image. I recognize my own self. I am generally very grateful for these encounters, even when they hurt me.
When I meet someone with whom I resonate, I discover and confirm what kind of person I am. The counterpart then becomes a magnifier of my own personal traits. When my counterpart finds pleasure in the same kind of things, I feel that my own dispositions are socially approved and consolidated.
On the other hand, I do sometimes meet people with polar views and sensitivities. Even when I present something valuable and dear to me, they would receive it with cool and sometimes even disdainful reactions. When I was young, I found myself unduly hurt by such a behavior. But gradually, I came to realize that such an occasion of miscommunication actually provided a significant opportunity to recognize my own self.
People are mirrors, when they are resonant, AND when they are dissonant. Every day, with the encounters with various kinds of people both young and old, passionate or quiet, I see millions of reflections of my own image. I recognize my own self. I am generally very grateful for these encounters, even when they hurt me.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
"Healthiness test" for your brain
In my opinion, the "healthiness test" for your brain is simple.
"Are you enjoying the uncertainties that you encounter in life?"
If the answer is "yes", then your brain is in a healthy state. If you are able to welcome every opportunity in which you meet new challenges, experience the unexpected, and learn things, then the state of your brain is satisfactory.
If the answer is "no", then you need to reconsider the status quo. If you are unable to meet new challenges, and tend to avoid circumstances where you are likely to encounter the unexpected, then your brain is missing opportunities for learning and growth.
In this respect, the recent tendency among Japanese to avoid the unexpected and follow the trodden road is worrisome.
Why don't you jump into the great ocean of uncertainties? It might be frightening at start, but you will get used to swimming soon enough.
"Are you enjoying the uncertainties that you encounter in life?"
If the answer is "yes", then your brain is in a healthy state. If you are able to welcome every opportunity in which you meet new challenges, experience the unexpected, and learn things, then the state of your brain is satisfactory.
If the answer is "no", then you need to reconsider the status quo. If you are unable to meet new challenges, and tend to avoid circumstances where you are likely to encounter the unexpected, then your brain is missing opportunities for learning and growth.
In this respect, the recent tendency among Japanese to avoid the unexpected and follow the trodden road is worrisome.
Why don't you jump into the great ocean of uncertainties? It might be frightening at start, but you will get used to swimming soon enough.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
The "operating system" of Japan is most probably out of date.
It is with a deep sadness to acknowledge that the "operating system" of Japan is most probably out of date. The nation is lagging behind, and I would like very much to do something about it, but judging from the daily encounters with people, especially those in the "elite" positions within the nation such as the academia and the media, the national disease is a deep and serious one, albeit not incurable.
I find some hope and solace in the fact that young people are increasingly disillusioned with the status quo. There are mounting pressures, still invisible but certainly going up, to change the current situation. One should have one's principles, and do daily chores, to bring about the change however gradually.
In Japan, the more established a system or an institution is, the deeper the problem lurks. Take University of Tokyo, for example. I have been a proud graduate of this prestigious academic institution, but recently I have my serious doubts about the nature of its constituting principles. The overwhelming majority of its undergraduate students are Japanese. Entrance to the university has been considered as a ticket to success for many years. Some weekly magazines even carry articles about how many students have entered the university from which high school.
Compared to other excellent universities in the world, however, the closed nature of the university is scandalously singular. Harvard University in the United States, for example, gathers its graduate and undergraduate students from all around the world, as a natural reflection of the global nature of today's world.
In the Times Higher Education Ranking (2009) , the University of Tokyo is ranked 22nd. The University is performing very poorly in "International Staff Score" and "International Students Score". Should the university amend this defect, the ranking position would be improved considerably.
When I discussed this point with a few University of Tokyo professors, they invariably answered that "the entrance examination for undergraduate is sacred, and cannot be changed". According to their views, the current entrance examination, conducted in Japanese, effectively limiting the undergraduate students to Japanese or people brought up within Japan, is the raison d'etre of University. If they change the entrance exam, the constitution and the nature of the University will be transformed beyond recognition. And they have no plan to do that. What a shame!
Probably it is not fair to single out University of Tokyo, but the status quo of the academic institution is the symbol of the sinking nation of Japan. University of Tokyo has been traditionally producing high officials in the government, the cream of Japanese system. There was a time when the world marveled at its efficiency. Sadly, no more. The cream is rotting.
It is never too late to bring about the necessary changes. As an alumnus of the university, I would very much like to see its entrance exam changed, so that it is at least partially based in English, to admit more international students. The time is ripe.
It is now time to rewrite the "operating system" of Japan. I hope those people in responsible positions would realize the need, and act quickly.
I find some hope and solace in the fact that young people are increasingly disillusioned with the status quo. There are mounting pressures, still invisible but certainly going up, to change the current situation. One should have one's principles, and do daily chores, to bring about the change however gradually.
In Japan, the more established a system or an institution is, the deeper the problem lurks. Take University of Tokyo, for example. I have been a proud graduate of this prestigious academic institution, but recently I have my serious doubts about the nature of its constituting principles. The overwhelming majority of its undergraduate students are Japanese. Entrance to the university has been considered as a ticket to success for many years. Some weekly magazines even carry articles about how many students have entered the university from which high school.
Compared to other excellent universities in the world, however, the closed nature of the university is scandalously singular. Harvard University in the United States, for example, gathers its graduate and undergraduate students from all around the world, as a natural reflection of the global nature of today's world.
In the Times Higher Education Ranking (2009) , the University of Tokyo is ranked 22nd. The University is performing very poorly in "International Staff Score" and "International Students Score". Should the university amend this defect, the ranking position would be improved considerably.
When I discussed this point with a few University of Tokyo professors, they invariably answered that "the entrance examination for undergraduate is sacred, and cannot be changed". According to their views, the current entrance examination, conducted in Japanese, effectively limiting the undergraduate students to Japanese or people brought up within Japan, is the raison d'etre of University. If they change the entrance exam, the constitution and the nature of the University will be transformed beyond recognition. And they have no plan to do that. What a shame!
Probably it is not fair to single out University of Tokyo, but the status quo of the academic institution is the symbol of the sinking nation of Japan. University of Tokyo has been traditionally producing high officials in the government, the cream of Japanese system. There was a time when the world marveled at its efficiency. Sadly, no more. The cream is rotting.
It is never too late to bring about the necessary changes. As an alumnus of the university, I would very much like to see its entrance exam changed, so that it is at least partially based in English, to admit more international students. The time is ripe.
It is now time to rewrite the "operating system" of Japan. I hope those people in responsible positions would realize the need, and act quickly.
Monday, May 10, 2010
The radio spirit
I appear on the radio program "All Night Nippon Sunday" from time to time.
Yesterday evening, I went to the radio station in central Tokyo and chatted in the program as the host, for 90 minutes.
I like speaking on the radio. There are rough storylines and a list of music to be played during the program, but apart from that, you are quite free to organize your talks. You can touch upon your recent encounter with the World Memory Champion, discuss how to love your mother with the listener, and consider how one may deal with the post-vacation blues. What you say is quite spontaneous and on the spot, and nurtures a great spirit of gaiety.
I recall, when I was in the low-teens, it was quite the thing to listen to the radio. The discussions in school on the day after was quite dominated by the funny things that the host had said in the evening. I think the ethos of the radio was resonating with our youthful dreams and anxieties.
So here's to the radio spirit. I am looking forward to my next opportunity to chat on the air. I expect that to happen sometime in June.
Yesterday evening, I went to the radio station in central Tokyo and chatted in the program as the host, for 90 minutes.
I like speaking on the radio. There are rough storylines and a list of music to be played during the program, but apart from that, you are quite free to organize your talks. You can touch upon your recent encounter with the World Memory Champion, discuss how to love your mother with the listener, and consider how one may deal with the post-vacation blues. What you say is quite spontaneous and on the spot, and nurtures a great spirit of gaiety.
I recall, when I was in the low-teens, it was quite the thing to listen to the radio. The discussions in school on the day after was quite dominated by the funny things that the host had said in the evening. I think the ethos of the radio was resonating with our youthful dreams and anxieties.
So here's to the radio spirit. I am looking forward to my next opportunity to chat on the air. I expect that to happen sometime in June.
Sunday, May 09, 2010
Living among the tropical plants in Indonesia.
After the Keio University lecture yesterday, several students came up to me and chatted. One of them was a graduate student studying computer science. He said he was from Indonesia. When I asked which city, he said "Bandung". "Oh, that's where the famous conference was held, isn't it?" I said. He smiled and said "Ah, you know that!"
I have been to Indonesia several times. On these occasions, I visited the island of Bali, Jakarta, and Yogyakarta.
A visit to a market in Jakarta still remains vividly in my memory. I was in the early twenties. At that time, I happened to be very keen on tropical plants, the orchid family in particular. I tried to cultivate some of them back home, but in the climate of Tokyo this venture required special cares, particularly in the winter months.
So it was quite an inspiration to see the treasured plantations breathing free air in the market, apparently enjoying carefree lives in a climate that was so benevolent to their physiology.
Ever since this revelation, one of my dreams was to live in Indonesia, and have pots of plants scattered around my residence, and sip tea in the afternoon looking and admiring the exquisite beauty of the curve of their leaves.
As I was chatting with the Indonesian student, all these memories swelled in me. I did not, of course, have time to discuss the art of horticulture with the young gentleman, as our topic was on the relation between computers and the brain.
In any sense, the chat gave me ideas and dreams. Wouldn't it be lovely to put the plants just so, and do nothing further about it, letting the weather take care of them through naturally appropriate humidity and temperature?
I have been to Indonesia several times. On these occasions, I visited the island of Bali, Jakarta, and Yogyakarta.
A visit to a market in Jakarta still remains vividly in my memory. I was in the early twenties. At that time, I happened to be very keen on tropical plants, the orchid family in particular. I tried to cultivate some of them back home, but in the climate of Tokyo this venture required special cares, particularly in the winter months.
So it was quite an inspiration to see the treasured plantations breathing free air in the market, apparently enjoying carefree lives in a climate that was so benevolent to their physiology.
Ever since this revelation, one of my dreams was to live in Indonesia, and have pots of plants scattered around my residence, and sip tea in the afternoon looking and admiring the exquisite beauty of the curve of their leaves.
As I was chatting with the Indonesian student, all these memories swelled in me. I did not, of course, have time to discuss the art of horticulture with the young gentleman, as our topic was on the relation between computers and the brain.
In any sense, the chat gave me ideas and dreams. Wouldn't it be lovely to put the plants just so, and do nothing further about it, letting the weather take care of them through naturally appropriate humidity and temperature?
Saturday, May 08, 2010
Chatting with interesting people
I gave two 90 minutes lectures at Keio University Hiyoshi campus. The audience was the graduate students and general public, about 200 in all.
The first lecture was on the brain as a system, while the second lecture focused on the significance of contingency in the makeup of the self in the social context.
After the lecture, we ventured into one of the Izakayas of the Hiyoshi area with Prof. Takashi Maeno. It was fun to talk about google, satellites, and life in general.
Chatting with interesting people is one of my favorite exercises, and yesterday was a classic example.
The first lecture was on the brain as a system, while the second lecture focused on the significance of contingency in the makeup of the self in the social context.
After the lecture, we ventured into one of the Izakayas of the Hiyoshi area with Prof. Takashi Maeno. It was fun to talk about google, satellites, and life in general.
Chatting with interesting people is one of my favorite exercises, and yesterday was a classic example.
Friday, May 07, 2010
Back in Tokyo
On the way back to Tokyo airborne, and onto central Tokyo by car, I was continuously writing a series of essays which unfortunately met their respective deadlines yesterday.
In all, I churned out 4 essays, letting out a total of ~10000 Japanese characters worth text.
My home country welcomed me back with a sunshine and hot air. I immediately became a "T-shirt" man, taking off my sweater, revealing my Paul Smith T-shirt featuring an apple. It is one of my personal favorites.
Once in my native country, I get immersed in a totally different context from the past few days. This morning, I will have discussions with editors of a book in the morning. In the afternoon, I will give two lectures at Keio University.
Back to the chores. However, the spirit stays. There are certain things that are left in you forever, to grow and glow.
In all, I churned out 4 essays, letting out a total of ~10000 Japanese characters worth text.
My home country welcomed me back with a sunshine and hot air. I immediately became a "T-shirt" man, taking off my sweater, revealing my Paul Smith T-shirt featuring an apple. It is one of my personal favorites.
Once in my native country, I get immersed in a totally different context from the past few days. This morning, I will have discussions with editors of a book in the morning. In the afternoon, I will give two lectures at Keio University.
Back to the chores. However, the spirit stays. There are certain things that are left in you forever, to grow and glow.
Thursday, May 06, 2010
The volcano did not hinder my flight back to Tokyo this time.
On the last day in London, we met with Dominique O'Brien, who became eight times World Memory Champion. The current Champion, Ben Pridmore was there, too. We conducted a simple EEG experiment.
In the afternoon, I met with Prof. Linda Pring at the University of London Goldsmith campus. Goldsmith is famous for being the home of the YBA (Young British Artists), including the sculptor Anthony Gormely.
The volcano did not hinder my flight back to Tokyo this time. Right now I am safely on the plane, trying to reflect on my experiences in the U.K this time.
Soon after I finish writing this, the airplane will start descending to the airport. I won't be able to use any electric devises then. I will most probably read "Darwin's Island" written by Steve Jones. I bought the copy in the Heffers bookshop in front of Trinity college.
Once back in Japan, I will have a busy work schedule as usual. I won't have the luxury of relaxing. One needs to find solace in small things under these circumstances.
In the least, I would like to have a taste of the soba noodle somewhere and sometime soon. That could be done in 10 minutes at a standing bar found in many locations in Tokyo.
See you again, U.K. See you soon, Marmite. You have been very kind to me.
In the afternoon, I met with Prof. Linda Pring at the University of London Goldsmith campus. Goldsmith is famous for being the home of the YBA (Young British Artists), including the sculptor Anthony Gormely.
The volcano did not hinder my flight back to Tokyo this time. Right now I am safely on the plane, trying to reflect on my experiences in the U.K this time.
Soon after I finish writing this, the airplane will start descending to the airport. I won't be able to use any electric devises then. I will most probably read "Darwin's Island" written by Steve Jones. I bought the copy in the Heffers bookshop in front of Trinity college.
Once back in Japan, I will have a busy work schedule as usual. I won't have the luxury of relaxing. One needs to find solace in small things under these circumstances.
In the least, I would like to have a taste of the soba noodle somewhere and sometime soon. That could be done in 10 minutes at a standing bar found in many locations in Tokyo.
See you again, U.K. See you soon, Marmite. You have been very kind to me.
Wednesday, May 05, 2010
Drive it away!
I did not "agree" with the tightly controlled process of learning how to drive that is normal in my native country. So I dropped out of school. Time flew, and I moved to England, to conduct two years' post doctoral in Cambridge. After a while, I learned that I was eligible to apply for a driving license under the British system.
So I called up BSM. On the first day, Mr. David Ash came to my door and knocked. "Hello!", David said. "Hello!", I said.
David took me to the suburb of Cambridge in the car. I think it was near the Cavendish laboratory. David parked the car on the roadside, and let me sit in the driver's seat.
"Drive it a way!"
David said.
So under the British system, the learner is told to "drive it away!" on day one. What a difference from what I had known previously. The "drive it away" approach suited me fine.
When I was moving in London yesterday, I saw a car with "BSM" written on it. All of a sudden all these memories came back to me like in a flood.
The conversations I had with David. The first motorway. Night driving. David always helpful and kind, and yet firm.
The process of obtaining a British car license was interesting, but that is another story.
So I called up BSM. On the first day, Mr. David Ash came to my door and knocked. "Hello!", David said. "Hello!", I said.
David took me to the suburb of Cambridge in the car. I think it was near the Cavendish laboratory. David parked the car on the roadside, and let me sit in the driver's seat.
"Drive it a way!"
David said.
So under the British system, the learner is told to "drive it away!" on day one. What a difference from what I had known previously. The "drive it away" approach suited me fine.
When I was moving in London yesterday, I saw a car with "BSM" written on it. All of a sudden all these memories came back to me like in a flood.
The conversations I had with David. The first motorway. Night driving. David always helpful and kind, and yet firm.
The process of obtaining a British car license was interesting, but that is another story.
Tuesday, May 04, 2010
London Skies
Walking along the London streets, even for a short time, is always an uplifting experience.
People has identified New York city in the United States as the capital of cultural freedom. In a subtly different sense, London is at once a capital of cultural tradition and freedom.
People from many countries in the world flock to London in search of something. What they seek and get, being immersed in the world according to the lingua franca of English, reflect the multitude of opportunities for a human being today.
I am in search of something myself, when I find myself in the British capital. To some extent, the nature of that something has changed over the years, while other aspects remain the same.
So I look up to the London sky, believing in the infinite possibilities extending before me. The skylines inspire me, to keep going and make yet another effot.
People has identified New York city in the United States as the capital of cultural freedom. In a subtly different sense, London is at once a capital of cultural tradition and freedom.
People from many countries in the world flock to London in search of something. What they seek and get, being immersed in the world according to the lingua franca of English, reflect the multitude of opportunities for a human being today.
I am in search of something myself, when I find myself in the British capital. To some extent, the nature of that something has changed over the years, while other aspects remain the same.
So I look up to the London sky, believing in the infinite possibilities extending before me. The skylines inspire me, to keep going and make yet another effot.
Monday, May 03, 2010
Trinity excellence in gardening.
I have moved to London yesterday night. When I awoke in the car, people were shouting "Abbey Road!" A surprise encounter with the street of Beatle legend brought me back to conscious life on arrival at London.
As I reflect on my stay in Cambridge, several things surge in me. Every time I revisit, I take home something valuable.
This time, my mental souvenir included a realization of the excellence of the art of gardening in the academic city.
I have been to the Trinity college premises many times, but until the last visit yesterday I did not explicitly realize the meticulous care with which the trees and plants are cultivated and maintained in the gardens, alongside the building walls, along the corridor.
Gee, what an excellent work of art! And high tech, too!
I asked the kind Trinity college Porter who was with us about the gardening in Trinity. "Yes, gardening in this college is excellent," he said. "There are 30 gardeners in this college. We have a new head gardener now. He is a superb man."
So I discovered that Trinity college excelled in the science of gardening, too. I suspect that the Trinity excellence in gardening reflects the general high standards of English gardening.
Thus we become the plant's best friend, with care and knowledge.
As I reflect on my stay in Cambridge, several things surge in me. Every time I revisit, I take home something valuable.
This time, my mental souvenir included a realization of the excellence of the art of gardening in the academic city.
I have been to the Trinity college premises many times, but until the last visit yesterday I did not explicitly realize the meticulous care with which the trees and plants are cultivated and maintained in the gardens, alongside the building walls, along the corridor.
Gee, what an excellent work of art! And high tech, too!
I asked the kind Trinity college Porter who was with us about the gardening in Trinity. "Yes, gardening in this college is excellent," he said. "There are 30 gardeners in this college. We have a new head gardener now. He is a superb man."
So I discovered that Trinity college excelled in the science of gardening, too. I suspect that the Trinity excellence in gardening reflects the general high standards of English gardening.
Thus we become the plant's best friend, with care and knowledge.
Sunday, May 02, 2010
A venerable society of lunatics
I stayed in Cambridge for two years from 1995 to 1997, and have been visiting regularly since.
I know the streets in out. Memories would flow back to me.
Cambridge is a stunningly beautiful town. However, needless to say, the value of the town is not for the looks. On my arrival, I went straight to the Cambridge University Press and checked the latest volumes. After that, I strolled to the Heffers bookshop in front of the Trinity college. I was thrilled to see all these wonderful books, each representing years of hard work, rigorous application of logic, no-nonsense empiricism, and refined aesthetics.
I think it is simply wonderful for people with similar interests and orientations to be gathered in a place, and have heated discussions, letting their souls inside out. We are always in search of such a community. In Cambridge we find a venerable society of lunatics which have matured over 800 years.
What a solace!
I know the streets in out. Memories would flow back to me.
Cambridge is a stunningly beautiful town. However, needless to say, the value of the town is not for the looks. On my arrival, I went straight to the Cambridge University Press and checked the latest volumes. After that, I strolled to the Heffers bookshop in front of the Trinity college. I was thrilled to see all these wonderful books, each representing years of hard work, rigorous application of logic, no-nonsense empiricism, and refined aesthetics.
I think it is simply wonderful for people with similar interests and orientations to be gathered in a place, and have heated discussions, letting their souls inside out. We are always in search of such a community. In Cambridge we find a venerable society of lunatics which have matured over 800 years.
What a solace!
Saturday, May 01, 2010
There's something about U.K.
There's something about U.K. that resonates deep with me. Maybe it is the unpretending attitudes of people. Perhaps the spirit of understatement. In any case, although I come from a totally different culture originally, I find many things that are assumed and carried out here dear to me.
The newspapers, for example. This morning I was reading the Guardian over breakfast, having heard on the BBC news that they are now endorsing the Liberal Democrats.
Irrespective of the particular political point of view that one may adapt, the way the facts are presented, arguments are developed, and the tacit assumption of intellectual honesty and (for the want of a better word) "brutality" is something that I share deep in my heart. I suspect that it is something that are often "hidden" and "suppressed" in other cultures.
This morning, I would have liked to give a detailed account of my encounter with Mr. Ben Pridmore, the current World Memory Champion. Unfortunately, I could not finish the narrative. Please watch this space for some insights into how Mr. Pridmore has come to realize his enormous memory power.
Today I move to Cambridge.
The newspapers, for example. This morning I was reading the Guardian over breakfast, having heard on the BBC news that they are now endorsing the Liberal Democrats.
Irrespective of the particular political point of view that one may adapt, the way the facts are presented, arguments are developed, and the tacit assumption of intellectual honesty and (for the want of a better word) "brutality" is something that I share deep in my heart. I suspect that it is something that are often "hidden" and "suppressed" in other cultures.
This morning, I would have liked to give a detailed account of my encounter with Mr. Ben Pridmore, the current World Memory Champion. Unfortunately, I could not finish the narrative. Please watch this space for some insights into how Mr. Pridmore has come to realize his enormous memory power.
Today I move to Cambridge.
Friday, April 30, 2010
After four essays and a prawn, I arrived in U.K.
On the plane to London Heathrow, I had to write several essay manuscripts. Theoretically, it was possible to do them after arrival, and make the deadline. However, I was in a mood to get done with them while airborne, wanting to be immersed in the U.K. atmosphere once I reach my "second home".
Thus, after food and wine I started to type, and took a nap. When I awoke, I continued my ordeal. Perhaps little people came to help me for being diligent. I could finish the four essays (three in Japanese and one in English), and still had time to watch the film "District 9" from the beginning to the end. The film is shot and edited in a refreshing documentary touch, rather reminiscent of the great British T.V. comedy "The Office" by Ricky Gervais. The protagonist starts as a very shaky and unconvincing man (delightfully played by Sharlto Copley), and through a process of transformations (one literally happening in his right hand) gradually become a convincing hero. The politically correct message is clear. I suspect (taking into joint consideration of the ethos behind the blockbuster film Avatar,) that simpleton films of "shoot the enemies up" mentalities are now out of fashion. Which is a good thing.
The film made me think of the word "prawn cocktail" in an entirely new light, by the way.
From Heathrow airport, I went to Nottingham. I passed through yellow fields. The close encounters with the color yellow persisted when a rubber duck family greeted me in the hotel bathroom. For supper, we went to the Indian restaurant Cumin. There, I had a delightful conversation with Ed and Paul. Paul told me interesting stories about his experience in reporting world affairs which made history, like the Berlin wall fall.
Yellow fields seen from the speeding van.
The rubber duck family in my bathroom.
Ed Wright and Paul Keyworth.
Thus, after food and wine I started to type, and took a nap. When I awoke, I continued my ordeal. Perhaps little people came to help me for being diligent. I could finish the four essays (three in Japanese and one in English), and still had time to watch the film "District 9" from the beginning to the end. The film is shot and edited in a refreshing documentary touch, rather reminiscent of the great British T.V. comedy "The Office" by Ricky Gervais. The protagonist starts as a very shaky and unconvincing man (delightfully played by Sharlto Copley), and through a process of transformations (one literally happening in his right hand) gradually become a convincing hero. The politically correct message is clear. I suspect (taking into joint consideration of the ethos behind the blockbuster film Avatar,) that simpleton films of "shoot the enemies up" mentalities are now out of fashion. Which is a good thing.
The film made me think of the word "prawn cocktail" in an entirely new light, by the way.
From Heathrow airport, I went to Nottingham. I passed through yellow fields. The close encounters with the color yellow persisted when a rubber duck family greeted me in the hotel bathroom. For supper, we went to the Indian restaurant Cumin. There, I had a delightful conversation with Ed and Paul. Paul told me interesting stories about his experience in reporting world affairs which made history, like the Berlin wall fall.
Yellow fields seen from the speeding van.
The rubber duck family in my bathroom.
Ed Wright and Paul Keyworth.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Not so fast, Mr. volcano!
The reader of this blog might recall that recently I was stranded in Munich for 4 days due to the volcanic ash cloud crisis.
Here I go to Europe, this morning, again. I will be flying to U.K. I hope the volcano would not make any sudden moves this time.
Not so fast, Mr. volcano!
The U.K. has become something like a second spiritual home for me. I was in Cambridge for two years, and have repeatedly visited the country before and since. Horace Barlow, my Cambridge mentor, is there. It is a country which produces lots of excellent comedy stuff that I love. The general election campaign is going, energized by such unexpected events such as the surge of popularity for Nick Clegg and the unfortunate (in many ways) gaffe of Mr. Gordon Brown. I have been following the moves with great interest. I admire the wisdoms of the English people, including the unwritten constitution.
So I set off to England with a lightness of heart. I shall return to Tokyo, volcano permitting, next Thursday.
Here I go to Europe, this morning, again. I will be flying to U.K. I hope the volcano would not make any sudden moves this time.
Not so fast, Mr. volcano!
The U.K. has become something like a second spiritual home for me. I was in Cambridge for two years, and have repeatedly visited the country before and since. Horace Barlow, my Cambridge mentor, is there. It is a country which produces lots of excellent comedy stuff that I love. The general election campaign is going, energized by such unexpected events such as the surge of popularity for Nick Clegg and the unfortunate (in many ways) gaffe of Mr. Gordon Brown. I have been following the moves with great interest. I admire the wisdoms of the English people, including the unwritten constitution.
So I set off to England with a lightness of heart. I shall return to Tokyo, volcano permitting, next Thursday.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
You understand these things from a distance.
When you are a child, there are many things that leave an impression on you. As you get older, you grow out of these things. But then one day, they would come back to you, with all the vividness and freshness of the one time experience.
When I was 4 or 5 years old, my father would often take me to the zoo or those places which hold dear values to an immature soul. We would take the train, and go through the stations. I remember how my father would suddenly disappear, while we are walking in the corridor. Naturally I would become desperate, and search for my protector. But I could not find my father. I go on the verge of crying, with water swelling in my eyes.
Precisely at that watershed moment, my father would appear from behind a column, smiling, teasing me, saying "did you think that I had gone somewhere?" and would hold my hands tightly. The warmth of the skin touch would invariably soothe me. I would stop short of crying out loud, having finished the ride on the emotional jet coaster.
I have been oblivious of these incidents for a long time. The enigma of the human mind is that you suddenly remember them out of the blue.
Looking back, I reflect on the state of mind of my father. Then, something extraordinary happens. Instead of reliving of my own trials, I sense as if in a delayed flash of realization the anxiety of my father. I think my father might have been projecting his own existential Angst upon me.
While teasing me by hiding behind the station columns, my father's heart must have been trembling. You understand these things from a distance.
When I was 4 or 5 years old, my father would often take me to the zoo or those places which hold dear values to an immature soul. We would take the train, and go through the stations. I remember how my father would suddenly disappear, while we are walking in the corridor. Naturally I would become desperate, and search for my protector. But I could not find my father. I go on the verge of crying, with water swelling in my eyes.
Precisely at that watershed moment, my father would appear from behind a column, smiling, teasing me, saying "did you think that I had gone somewhere?" and would hold my hands tightly. The warmth of the skin touch would invariably soothe me. I would stop short of crying out loud, having finished the ride on the emotional jet coaster.
I have been oblivious of these incidents for a long time. The enigma of the human mind is that you suddenly remember them out of the blue.
Looking back, I reflect on the state of mind of my father. Then, something extraordinary happens. Instead of reliving of my own trials, I sense as if in a delayed flash of realization the anxiety of my father. I think my father might have been projecting his own existential Angst upon me.
While teasing me by hiding behind the station columns, my father's heart must have been trembling. You understand these things from a distance.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Relative positions.
As I walk home at night, these days, I notice that the moon is getting fatter every day. What a dramatic change! To think that shifts in the relative positions of the moon, the sun, and the earth brings about this salient transition gives me a deep shudder. What marvelous manifestations of existence!
We tend to think that life occupies a privileged position in the universe. To some extent that feeling is justified. Ultimately, however, that is perhaps an deep-rooted ignorance, if one reflects on great alternations of things, like the moon shape change.
Life is about movement, and movement is about the passage of time. Entities in the space-time structure is never at rest. Life as we call it is only a subset of that great multitude.
The cherry blossoms bloom and then wither. A person is born and dies. The wind blows and is then dispersed. Change is the only certain fact in this world.
"We sail within a vast sphere, ever drifting in uncertainty, driven from end to end."
Blaise Pascal
We tend to think that life occupies a privileged position in the universe. To some extent that feeling is justified. Ultimately, however, that is perhaps an deep-rooted ignorance, if one reflects on great alternations of things, like the moon shape change.
Life is about movement, and movement is about the passage of time. Entities in the space-time structure is never at rest. Life as we call it is only a subset of that great multitude.
The cherry blossoms bloom and then wither. A person is born and dies. The wind blows and is then dispersed. Change is the only certain fact in this world.
"We sail within a vast sphere, ever drifting in uncertainty, driven from end to end."
Blaise Pascal
Monday, April 26, 2010
Great book of the world
Even if a book sells a million copies, it would at best reach a very small proportion of the population. The same is true for a mega-hit film like "The Avatar". Thus, the worlds that are presented by these creative works by necessity remain a minority experience.
When we cast our eyes on the elements of every day, we find incredibly rich multitudes of experience that are the true "bestsellers" of life. Consider the sensation of flavor and taste as you sip your coffee in the morning. The joy of being immersed in the morning sunshine as you venture off into the wider world from your domicile. The swelling feeling of joy as you finally put your self at rest on bed after a strenuous day. These elements of experience are known to everybody, and shared by a true majority of people.
When one is young, one is often quite taken by a work of human creativity that one encounters. Because one is carried away, one sometimes even equates the weight of the adored piece with the whole world itself. One talks about the genius of the creator in a heated manner, enthusiastic on becoming an evangelist of the value of the work. One is then often disappointed by the more or less subdued reaction of the listener. One has forgotten that no matter how important a piece of creativity might appear to be, the experiencing itself remains in the minority.
Despite the disappointments, the young person soldiers on. One gradually rediscovers the common grounds for every breathing soul on earth. The simple joy of sharing those rudimentary elements of living must then serve as the foundation for communication. One leaves one's Dostoevsky and Murakami and starts to read the great book of the world once again, as one used to do as an innocent infant.
When we cast our eyes on the elements of every day, we find incredibly rich multitudes of experience that are the true "bestsellers" of life. Consider the sensation of flavor and taste as you sip your coffee in the morning. The joy of being immersed in the morning sunshine as you venture off into the wider world from your domicile. The swelling feeling of joy as you finally put your self at rest on bed after a strenuous day. These elements of experience are known to everybody, and shared by a true majority of people.
When one is young, one is often quite taken by a work of human creativity that one encounters. Because one is carried away, one sometimes even equates the weight of the adored piece with the whole world itself. One talks about the genius of the creator in a heated manner, enthusiastic on becoming an evangelist of the value of the work. One is then often disappointed by the more or less subdued reaction of the listener. One has forgotten that no matter how important a piece of creativity might appear to be, the experiencing itself remains in the minority.
Despite the disappointments, the young person soldiers on. One gradually rediscovers the common grounds for every breathing soul on earth. The simple joy of sharing those rudimentary elements of living must then serve as the foundation for communication. One leaves one's Dostoevsky and Murakami and starts to read the great book of the world once again, as one used to do as an innocent infant.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Memento contingency.
It seems like another job will take me Europe again within a few days. This time I will be flying to U.K. I have some trepidations naturally about it as the U.K. was the worst hit country by the recent ash cloud incident.
For some time I thought that the plan would be abandoned. However, with the air situation improving, it seems that the schedule will go ahead.
I am looking forward to seeing things that I love in England again, as well as to encountering new things. On the other hand I am in a hung state of mind as regards the ash cloud contingencies. I don't want to be kept in exile AGAIN.
I will try to gather information about the likelihood of yet another series of explosions of the volcano. At the end of the day, of course, things remain ultimately uncertain. No place on earth is completely safe from unexpected catastrophes (remember where the UFO hit in the film District 9?).
Contingencies strike at the most unexpected places. Memento contingency.
For some time I thought that the plan would be abandoned. However, with the air situation improving, it seems that the schedule will go ahead.
I am looking forward to seeing things that I love in England again, as well as to encountering new things. On the other hand I am in a hung state of mind as regards the ash cloud contingencies. I don't want to be kept in exile AGAIN.
I will try to gather information about the likelihood of yet another series of explosions of the volcano. At the end of the day, of course, things remain ultimately uncertain. No place on earth is completely safe from unexpected catastrophes (remember where the UFO hit in the film District 9?).
Contingencies strike at the most unexpected places. Memento contingency.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Companies to my sweet sleep
I am in Nikko, where a series of temples were build in the early 1600s for the first Shogun of the Tokugawa government, Ieyasu. Now it is a UNESCO world heritage site. I am to have a joint public lecture today with a respected Buddhist priest, Mr. Yusai Sakai.
When I arrived at the hotel, it was already pitch dark. I had a nice dinner with editors from Asahi Shimbun newspaper. After parting, I went to sleep after watching for a while the second debate in the U.K. general election.
When I woke up this morning, I went to the window to take in some fresh air. To my surprise, there was this very attractive river just outside the hotel. A beautiful mountain was behind the river, and together, the water flow and the chunk of rocks made a wonderful scene.
I was taken unexpected, and thought of the long night during which I was not aware of those things. In the darkness of night, it was impossible to sense their existence. To think that the river and mountain have been companies to my sweet sleep all along gave me a surge of happy realization.
When I arrived at the hotel, it was already pitch dark. I had a nice dinner with editors from Asahi Shimbun newspaper. After parting, I went to sleep after watching for a while the second debate in the U.K. general election.
When I woke up this morning, I went to the window to take in some fresh air. To my surprise, there was this very attractive river just outside the hotel. A beautiful mountain was behind the river, and together, the water flow and the chunk of rocks made a wonderful scene.
I was taken unexpected, and thought of the long night during which I was not aware of those things. In the darkness of night, it was impossible to sense their existence. To think that the river and mountain have been companies to my sweet sleep all along gave me a surge of happy realization.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Sentimental value.
When I arrived in the U.K. to do two years' research in Cambridge, the first thing to do was to find a home.
I looked around, and found a cozy place on Missleton Court, in the southern suburb. The owner was a professor at University of Cambridge. We shook hands as we agreed on the rent.
There was a small wooden chair in the house. The professor pointed to the chair, and said, "Well, this chair has a sentimental value for me. My father made it for me when I was a child."
Maybe it was the way the professor said these words to me. Maybe it was the particular circumstances. I had just arrived in U.K., preparing myself for days in a foreign soil. The words "sentimental value" associated with the parental love probably struck the chord in my heart.
How strange is the human memory system! To this day, I remember vividly how the professor said it, on the ground floor room, as the sun came through the small green house attached to the side, in which I used to drink beer in the evening, as I looked up at the swallows crisscrossing the sky.
I looked around, and found a cozy place on Missleton Court, in the southern suburb. The owner was a professor at University of Cambridge. We shook hands as we agreed on the rent.
There was a small wooden chair in the house. The professor pointed to the chair, and said, "Well, this chair has a sentimental value for me. My father made it for me when I was a child."
Maybe it was the way the professor said these words to me. Maybe it was the particular circumstances. I had just arrived in U.K., preparing myself for days in a foreign soil. The words "sentimental value" associated with the parental love probably struck the chord in my heart.
How strange is the human memory system! To this day, I remember vividly how the professor said it, on the ground floor room, as the sun came through the small green house attached to the side, in which I used to drink beer in the evening, as I looked up at the swallows crisscrossing the sky.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
When and if Mount Fuji erupts.
I am still recovering from my experience of being stranded in Europe for 4 days due to the volcanic eruption. I could have enjoyed it as an unexpected vacation, but I simply had to come back to Tokyo in order to fulfill some important assignments. Controversies are raging whether the tight airspace controls have been a case of overreacting. One thing is certain. It has exposed the vulnerability of an island economy.
England was harder struck compared to the continental Europe not only because of its proximity to Iceland, but also due to its geological isolation. The U.K. is an island nation. The logistics depend much on the air, especially in the shorter time scale. In the continent people are able to use other means of transportation, albeit taking much longer time. Something is better than nothing. An island nation, when deprived of air, can go into a state of despair. Much thanks thus are due to the channel tunnel, without the existence of which the U.K. would have been more severely cut.
When I think the state surrounding my own nation, the island vulnerability is clear. If Japan loses its airspace, it would be virtually cut off from the outside world, especially in the shorter time scale.
The largest volcano, Mt. Fuji, has last erupted in 1707. Theoretically, it can erupt at any time again, letting out a huge amount of ash like the Icelandic volcano did this time. That could well lead to the loss of airspace in metropolitan Tokyo, judging from the events in the past days.
The nation clearly needs a contingency plan in case eruptions (not necessarily limited to Mt. Fuji) happen. Meanwhile, while I return to normal from the ashes, I brush up my cognitive processes so that my world model would better reflect the inherent unpredictability of the world that we inhabit.
You never know what tomorrow will bring.
Mount Fuji as depicted in a famous Ukiyoe print by Hokusai.
England was harder struck compared to the continental Europe not only because of its proximity to Iceland, but also due to its geological isolation. The U.K. is an island nation. The logistics depend much on the air, especially in the shorter time scale. In the continent people are able to use other means of transportation, albeit taking much longer time. Something is better than nothing. An island nation, when deprived of air, can go into a state of despair. Much thanks thus are due to the channel tunnel, without the existence of which the U.K. would have been more severely cut.
When I think the state surrounding my own nation, the island vulnerability is clear. If Japan loses its airspace, it would be virtually cut off from the outside world, especially in the shorter time scale.
The largest volcano, Mt. Fuji, has last erupted in 1707. Theoretically, it can erupt at any time again, letting out a huge amount of ash like the Icelandic volcano did this time. That could well lead to the loss of airspace in metropolitan Tokyo, judging from the events in the past days.
The nation clearly needs a contingency plan in case eruptions (not necessarily limited to Mt. Fuji) happen. Meanwhile, while I return to normal from the ashes, I brush up my cognitive processes so that my world model would better reflect the inherent unpredictability of the world that we inhabit.
You never know what tomorrow will bring.
Mount Fuji as depicted in a famous Ukiyoe print by Hokusai.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
I don't know what happened to the serious man.
A great sigh of relief was emitted from my mouth, or rather, my soul, as I finally made it onto the Lufthansa flight to Tokyo.
I was sitting at a window seat. I was looking for any signs of irregularities outside, but noticed only a tinge of the air quite widespread, which looked like dust from some perspectives. It was hard to say if that was the effect of the volcanic ashes, though.
At first I had this theoretical fear that something might go amiss with the engine (which were quite visible from my seat, bad thing or good thing?). However, as I took my first glass of wine things started to become fuzzy. Before I knew it, the airplane was cruising over Russia, well out of the danger zone. Maybe alcohol is a great tranquilizer preventing the passengers from unduly panicking.
Probably I was in a mood for an entertainment spree after these days of trials. Surely I could be excused if I did not work. I watched three films in a row.
The first was "All about Steve", which traces the stalking activities of a narcotic, but not unattractive crosswords maniac girl.
The second was "The invention of lying", starring the "The Office" Star Ricky Gervais.
The last one was "A Serious man". I started watching the film assuming that it was another light-hearted comedy, but sensed something was different in the first few minutes. I looked at the film description again, and found that it was actually directed by Joel and Ethan Coen!
I found the film quite interesting, and wished to watch it to the end, but as the airplane approached Tokyo Narita airport the entertainment system was abruptly terminated. So I don't know what happened to the serious man.
I was sitting at a window seat. I was looking for any signs of irregularities outside, but noticed only a tinge of the air quite widespread, which looked like dust from some perspectives. It was hard to say if that was the effect of the volcanic ashes, though.
At first I had this theoretical fear that something might go amiss with the engine (which were quite visible from my seat, bad thing or good thing?). However, as I took my first glass of wine things started to become fuzzy. Before I knew it, the airplane was cruising over Russia, well out of the danger zone. Maybe alcohol is a great tranquilizer preventing the passengers from unduly panicking.
Probably I was in a mood for an entertainment spree after these days of trials. Surely I could be excused if I did not work. I watched three films in a row.
The first was "All about Steve", which traces the stalking activities of a narcotic, but not unattractive crosswords maniac girl.
The second was "The invention of lying", starring the "The Office" Star Ricky Gervais.
The last one was "A Serious man". I started watching the film assuming that it was another light-hearted comedy, but sensed something was different in the first few minutes. I looked at the film description again, and found that it was actually directed by Joel and Ethan Coen!
I found the film quite interesting, and wished to watch it to the end, but as the airplane approached Tokyo Narita airport the entertainment system was abruptly terminated. So I don't know what happened to the serious man.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
A silver lining
Today the Lufthansa started operating its long distance flights, despite the still existing problem of the volcanic ash.
I therefore would hurry to Munich airport in a few minutes,
in a hope that I would be able to secure a seat in the planned Tokyo flight.
Fingers crossed. There is a silver lining to any desperate situation, and that is hope.
I therefore would hurry to Munich airport in a few minutes,
in a hope that I would be able to secure a seat in the planned Tokyo flight.
Fingers crossed. There is a silver lining to any desperate situation, and that is hope.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Mad in Munich
I am still stuck in Munich due to the distant echo of the vigorous activities of the volcano Eyjafjallajökull. Last evening, in an effort to indulge myself a bit and boost up the morale, I went to a Japanese restaurant in front of the Hofbrauhaus. I had a Sushi plate to the accompaniment of miso soup, occasionally sipping sake. Eating my favorite delicacies did not make me homesick or anything, but surely improved the overall mood.
This morning, I am still struggling to find a way home. The Vienna airport has opened. The Germany transport minister is apparently taking a conservative stance about it, and is being criticized by airliners such as Lufthansa. For a few hours I considered the possibility of moving to Vienna by train, but later found that it was not plausible due to several circumstances including difficulty of reservation, predicted ash shift, and the state of ongoing cancellations for the long haul flights.
Thus, the best hope apart from the opening of the Munich airport seems to be the flight from Rome. I could secure an Alitalia flight to Tokyo leaving on the 22nd. I have a train ticket to Rome on the 20th, and intend to try to change the date to the 21st at the Hauptbahnhof today, thus preserving the option of trying to fly out of Munich for one additional day.
Meanwhile, staying in this state of forced procrastination seems to be directing my psyche in an increasingly eccentric direction. I have been suspecting that it is in me for some time, but now I am quite sure.
My madness seems to be as certain as the blue sky over Munich.
Here's the snapshot of me standing next to my all time favorite mad hero, King Ludwig II of Bavaria.
Notice the resonance?
My much respected fellow of the lunar clan. King Ludwig II of Bavaria.
This morning, I am still struggling to find a way home. The Vienna airport has opened. The Germany transport minister is apparently taking a conservative stance about it, and is being criticized by airliners such as Lufthansa. For a few hours I considered the possibility of moving to Vienna by train, but later found that it was not plausible due to several circumstances including difficulty of reservation, predicted ash shift, and the state of ongoing cancellations for the long haul flights.
Thus, the best hope apart from the opening of the Munich airport seems to be the flight from Rome. I could secure an Alitalia flight to Tokyo leaving on the 22nd. I have a train ticket to Rome on the 20th, and intend to try to change the date to the 21st at the Hauptbahnhof today, thus preserving the option of trying to fly out of Munich for one additional day.
Meanwhile, staying in this state of forced procrastination seems to be directing my psyche in an increasingly eccentric direction. I have been suspecting that it is in me for some time, but now I am quite sure.
My madness seems to be as certain as the blue sky over Munich.
Here's the snapshot of me standing next to my all time favorite mad hero, King Ludwig II of Bavaria.
Notice the resonance?
My much respected fellow of the lunar clan. King Ludwig II of Bavaria.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Operating through the ashes
In the morning I went to the airport, to make changes to my reservation. As the telephone lines are always busy, one needs to go to the airport counter physically and make necessary arrangements.
After I finished the ordeal, I went back to the city center. I love Munich. I have visited the city many times. I know some of the backstreets by heart. And yet I never expected to wander around in my beloved city in a spirit of exile.
I went to the National Theatre, in a ritual that must be done every time I come to Munich. I then meandered through the narrow paths. The Hofbrauhaus was too full of people, so I sought a quieter bierhaus instead. Prior to this "spazierengehen" in the evening, I had already learned that the Tokyo flight I meant to take had been cancelled. So I needed to stay in Munich for at least one more day, unless I started searching for other routes.
The decisions are not so simple. The distribution of the volcanic ashes are unpredictable. At present Rome and Madrid are open, but one does not know if the wind would not change. It is reported that Lufthansa started test flights to see the plausibility of operating through the ashes. That adds new elements of uncertainty to be considered, albeit in the direction of hope.
There is a heavy cap on the logistics. Since one needs to move on land because of the blocked airspace, once one makes the critical decision to try Rome or Madrid there is practically no turning back. Number of additionl uncertainties make the decision extremely difficult. Thus the procrastination.
There is one consolation, though. Despite all this, the city of Munich still allures me with its charm. Maybe I will stand in front of the New Town Hall (Neues Rathaus) in the evening breeze and forget all about it.
The famous New Town Hall in Munich. Standing aloof from the ashes.
After I finished the ordeal, I went back to the city center. I love Munich. I have visited the city many times. I know some of the backstreets by heart. And yet I never expected to wander around in my beloved city in a spirit of exile.
I went to the National Theatre, in a ritual that must be done every time I come to Munich. I then meandered through the narrow paths. The Hofbrauhaus was too full of people, so I sought a quieter bierhaus instead. Prior to this "spazierengehen" in the evening, I had already learned that the Tokyo flight I meant to take had been cancelled. So I needed to stay in Munich for at least one more day, unless I started searching for other routes.
The decisions are not so simple. The distribution of the volcanic ashes are unpredictable. At present Rome and Madrid are open, but one does not know if the wind would not change. It is reported that Lufthansa started test flights to see the plausibility of operating through the ashes. That adds new elements of uncertainty to be considered, albeit in the direction of hope.
There is a heavy cap on the logistics. Since one needs to move on land because of the blocked airspace, once one makes the critical decision to try Rome or Madrid there is practically no turning back. Number of additionl uncertainties make the decision extremely difficult. Thus the procrastination.
There is one consolation, though. Despite all this, the city of Munich still allures me with its charm. Maybe I will stand in front of the New Town Hall (Neues Rathaus) in the evening breeze and forget all about it.
The famous New Town Hall in Munich. Standing aloof from the ashes.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Lost in Munich
Yesterday, I wrote something which, with the benefit of hindsight, seemed to foretell what to happen.
"In any case the soft beauty of Krakow as I approached it from the suburbs enthralled my heart. I even wished that something would happen to make a prolonged stay necessary. I would then well be in exile in Krakow, with a novel and strange pleasure in my heart. I would try to learn the unfamiliar language as a expatriate..."
Due to the activities of a volcano in Iceland, many European flights were cancelled, including mine from Krakow to Munich, from where I was planning to take a Tokyo flight. The moment I learned of the cancellation, a hectic effort to reach Munich or to find alternative routes back home started, as I had an important Sunday public dialogue planned between me and Professor Toshihide Masukawa, the much beloved and respected Nobel laureate of Physics.
I sped through the Polish, Czech, and then German soil on a series of cab rides. However, at the end of the day, I was stuck in Munich.
Now the situation looks very uncertain. I am lost in translation, and have no definite prospect of going home.
At the moment I need to check out of my airport hotel. I have literally no idea what I would do next. All I know is that I would go to the airport counter and discuss the situation with Lufthansa people.
"In any case the soft beauty of Krakow as I approached it from the suburbs enthralled my heart. I even wished that something would happen to make a prolonged stay necessary. I would then well be in exile in Krakow, with a novel and strange pleasure in my heart. I would try to learn the unfamiliar language as a expatriate..."
Due to the activities of a volcano in Iceland, many European flights were cancelled, including mine from Krakow to Munich, from where I was planning to take a Tokyo flight. The moment I learned of the cancellation, a hectic effort to reach Munich or to find alternative routes back home started, as I had an important Sunday public dialogue planned between me and Professor Toshihide Masukawa, the much beloved and respected Nobel laureate of Physics.
I sped through the Polish, Czech, and then German soil on a series of cab rides. However, at the end of the day, I was stuck in Munich.
Now the situation looks very uncertain. I am lost in translation, and have no definite prospect of going home.
At the moment I need to check out of my airport hotel. I have literally no idea what I would do next. All I know is that I would go to the airport counter and discuss the situation with Lufthansa people.
Friday, April 16, 2010
The spell of Poland
From Frankfurt, I flew to the ancient Polish capital of Krakow. Already on the way to the city center, I was seized by the poignant beauty of the scenery as it passed by the Mercedes window. I remembered that this was my fist time to enter the Polish soil.
To be precise, on my first ever trip to U.K. I used the Polish airline LOT. The plane made a stop at Warshaw. It was well before the downfall of 1989. I remember vividly how people stood on the roof of the airport building, apparently seeing their relatives off to prosperity and freedom. At that time, there was this wall of professed ideologies between the "east" and "west". Despite that, I could only feel a sense of humaneness and warm eagerness from the Polish people waving goodbye from the balcony.
Arriving in London, I fell in love with its culture instantly, a love that lingers on to this day. Looking back, however, U.K. seemed to be rather practical and too organized compared to what impression I had in that brief encounter with the Polish people from a distance.
Poland was like that white spot in your Cafe au lait as you mixed it.
Time flew. I cam back to Poland after so many years.
In the afternoon, I was planning to visit the infamous Auschwitz concentration camp. Maybe my nerves were little bit tense in anticipation, already on my way to Krakow, where I was planning to deposit my back at the Grand Hotel. In any case the soft beauty of Krakow as I approached it from the suburbs enthralled my heart. I even wished that something would happen to make a prolonged stay necessary. I would then well be in exile in Krakow, with a novel and strange pleasure in my heart. I would try to learn the unfamiliar language as a expatriate..
I visited the place of atrocity. On my way back on the car, I found myself very exhausted in body and soul.
After having supper in a restaurant called Aperitif, I returned to my hotel room, and before I knew it, I was sleeping on the bed. Probably as a result of the mixture of prior experiences, I had a strange dream. I was strolling in a calm and tranquil residential area, with nothing suspicious going on. However, a path would lead to abrupt end, where you would hang for your life on a cliff edge. Everywhere in the neighborhood, there were hidden falls, where carelessness would certainly result in the loss of your life.
I woke up in the small hours, convinced that it was already morning. I waked up my computer, to find out that a volcano has erupted in Iceland, emitting smokes which blocked number of airports in Europe.
I was planning to fly back to Tokyo via Munich. At the moment, only the northern airports in Germany was affected. But with the conditions of wind and the magma under ground, one never knows.
Maybe I am under the spell of Poland. My plane might not make it this morning. In that case, I might be bound in this beautiful city of Krakow. Nothing is certain at the moment. Maybe I might be able to fly after all, to fulfill the tight schedule of appointments back in Japan.
I thus find myself in a hung uncertainty this evening. I am still under the spell of Poland.
To be precise, on my first ever trip to U.K. I used the Polish airline LOT. The plane made a stop at Warshaw. It was well before the downfall of 1989. I remember vividly how people stood on the roof of the airport building, apparently seeing their relatives off to prosperity and freedom. At that time, there was this wall of professed ideologies between the "east" and "west". Despite that, I could only feel a sense of humaneness and warm eagerness from the Polish people waving goodbye from the balcony.
Arriving in London, I fell in love with its culture instantly, a love that lingers on to this day. Looking back, however, U.K. seemed to be rather practical and too organized compared to what impression I had in that brief encounter with the Polish people from a distance.
Poland was like that white spot in your Cafe au lait as you mixed it.
Time flew. I cam back to Poland after so many years.
In the afternoon, I was planning to visit the infamous Auschwitz concentration camp. Maybe my nerves were little bit tense in anticipation, already on my way to Krakow, where I was planning to deposit my back at the Grand Hotel. In any case the soft beauty of Krakow as I approached it from the suburbs enthralled my heart. I even wished that something would happen to make a prolonged stay necessary. I would then well be in exile in Krakow, with a novel and strange pleasure in my heart. I would try to learn the unfamiliar language as a expatriate..
I visited the place of atrocity. On my way back on the car, I found myself very exhausted in body and soul.
After having supper in a restaurant called Aperitif, I returned to my hotel room, and before I knew it, I was sleeping on the bed. Probably as a result of the mixture of prior experiences, I had a strange dream. I was strolling in a calm and tranquil residential area, with nothing suspicious going on. However, a path would lead to abrupt end, where you would hang for your life on a cliff edge. Everywhere in the neighborhood, there were hidden falls, where carelessness would certainly result in the loss of your life.
I woke up in the small hours, convinced that it was already morning. I waked up my computer, to find out that a volcano has erupted in Iceland, emitting smokes which blocked number of airports in Europe.
I was planning to fly back to Tokyo via Munich. At the moment, only the northern airports in Germany was affected. But with the conditions of wind and the magma under ground, one never knows.
Maybe I am under the spell of Poland. My plane might not make it this morning. In that case, I might be bound in this beautiful city of Krakow. Nothing is certain at the moment. Maybe I might be able to fly after all, to fulfill the tight schedule of appointments back in Japan.
I thus find myself in a hung uncertainty this evening. I am still under the spell of Poland.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
A night at the Semperoper.
On the last evening in Dresden, I went to a chamber concert in the Semperoper. An gentleman looking like Albert Einstein walked onto stage, with a horn in his hand. I became an instant fan of him.
He had a double role. A player in the orchestra and the conductor. Looking around me, I could appreciate that people really loved the music they were hearing. The warmth and vivacity radiated from the inside.
A civilization originates from cultures, expands on them and sometimes dilutes. In the modern era, it is rare to find a cozy and well-collected environment, where people come for an enjoyment that has been made flesh and blood through many years of experiencing, during and before their lifetime on earth. In the urban space, there's often too much traffic. Dresden proved to be a haven for the lonely soul.
As I let myself immersed in the sublimity of music my thought would wander again. Whatever I am going to do, feel, and encounter in days to come, must be put in the context of and generated from the spirits of things that are dear to me. Resting on moments of revelations that have accumulated inside me ever since my childhood. The strange acquaintances one makes and then appreciates in life. The Einstein man triumphed.
He had a double role. A player in the orchestra and the conductor. Looking around me, I could appreciate that people really loved the music they were hearing. The warmth and vivacity radiated from the inside.
A civilization originates from cultures, expands on them and sometimes dilutes. In the modern era, it is rare to find a cozy and well-collected environment, where people come for an enjoyment that has been made flesh and blood through many years of experiencing, during and before their lifetime on earth. In the urban space, there's often too much traffic. Dresden proved to be a haven for the lonely soul.
As I let myself immersed in the sublimity of music my thought would wander again. Whatever I am going to do, feel, and encounter in days to come, must be put in the context of and generated from the spirits of things that are dear to me. Resting on moments of revelations that have accumulated inside me ever since my childhood. The strange acquaintances one makes and then appreciates in life. The Einstein man triumphed.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
The Dresden angel.
I was walking along the streets of Dresden, and found a bookshop. Dropping in, I wanted to by a Reclam.
The yellow cover and its small size has always been an attraction to me since my teens. The gems of German culture are represented in its pages. Browsing through, I chose "Der Ursprung des Kunstwerkes" (The origin of art) by Martin Heidegger.
To imagine that long years of endeavors by an intellect are purified and compressed in books, paintings, and architectures, and other forms of expression is quite exciting. One wants to keep learning, thinking, and then letting out, very hard and strenuous, for ever and ever, as long as life on this earth lingers on.
There was a golden angel on one of the roofs in Dresden. Its throbbing beauty seemed to direct me to futures unlimited.
The yellow cover and its small size has always been an attraction to me since my teens. The gems of German culture are represented in its pages. Browsing through, I chose "Der Ursprung des Kunstwerkes" (The origin of art) by Martin Heidegger.
To imagine that long years of endeavors by an intellect are purified and compressed in books, paintings, and architectures, and other forms of expression is quite exciting. One wants to keep learning, thinking, and then letting out, very hard and strenuous, for ever and ever, as long as life on this earth lingers on.
There was a golden angel on one of the roofs in Dresden. Its throbbing beauty seemed to direct me to futures unlimited.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
High school dreams.
Though my present life style is hectic and occupied, it does not have a regular schedule. I don't go to the office at 8 o'clock every day. I am working incessantly, on the train, on the floor, under the tree, at the desk, in the classroom, in the studio, everywhere.
And yet, as where I would be physically on a given day varies so much, the only thing I can say for sure is that I would be connected.
Probably due to this status quo that has been going on for the last 10 years or so, I sometimes have a repeating dream. I am back in the senior high school, and with a horror of the moment of truth I realize that I have not been attending the classes for a long time. I think to myself, oh, what am I going to do? Maybe I will be expelled from school, perhaps now graduation is impossible.
Then I wake up, and realize that the high school days are long gone. Remorse mixed with a strange sweetness fills my heart. Yet another episode of my high school dreams is over.
In actuality, I attended my high school quite regularly, apart from breaks of a few days due to cold and flu. So the dreams distort the facts and memories, and probably reflect my deep psychology.
Although I wouldn't describe these dreams as nightmares, they do leave certain impressions on me. It is not that I am yearning for a regular life. I do enjoy the variety in my works. Most probably the dreams reflect my unrealized yearnings.
And yet, as where I would be physically on a given day varies so much, the only thing I can say for sure is that I would be connected.
Probably due to this status quo that has been going on for the last 10 years or so, I sometimes have a repeating dream. I am back in the senior high school, and with a horror of the moment of truth I realize that I have not been attending the classes for a long time. I think to myself, oh, what am I going to do? Maybe I will be expelled from school, perhaps now graduation is impossible.
Then I wake up, and realize that the high school days are long gone. Remorse mixed with a strange sweetness fills my heart. Yet another episode of my high school dreams is over.
In actuality, I attended my high school quite regularly, apart from breaks of a few days due to cold and flu. So the dreams distort the facts and memories, and probably reflect my deep psychology.
Although I wouldn't describe these dreams as nightmares, they do leave certain impressions on me. It is not that I am yearning for a regular life. I do enjoy the variety in my works. Most probably the dreams reflect my unrealized yearnings.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Avatar
I am in Dresden now.
On the way to Frankfurt from Tokyo, I watched "Avatar". I was meaning to see this blockbuster film, but did not have an opportunity.
The visual effects were stunning, even on the small LCD screen on the airplane. The story was politically correct, with clear messages.
I have only words of praise for the efforts of the people who made the film. The commercial success was a testimony of lots of work put into it.
It is always interesting and rewarding to observe a powerful existence reflecting on its own power of destruction.
The endangered creatures were all lovely.
On the way to Frankfurt from Tokyo, I watched "Avatar". I was meaning to see this blockbuster film, but did not have an opportunity.
The visual effects were stunning, even on the small LCD screen on the airplane. The story was politically correct, with clear messages.
I have only words of praise for the efforts of the people who made the film. The commercial success was a testimony of lots of work put into it.
It is always interesting and rewarding to observe a powerful existence reflecting on its own power of destruction.
The endangered creatures were all lovely.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
I started my life as quite a serious climber.
Japan is a very mountainous country. The larger parts of the nation are mountainous, making people inhabit the limited space of the plains. Thus, the congestion of the cities and jammed trains. The other side of the coin is that once you head mountain-wards, you find less people and more trees, alluring you into tranquility.
As a kid I really loved wandering in the mountains. Often I had a butterfly net in my hand, and was looking in every direction with an eager look. Other times I was just taking it easy, enjoying the scenery, thinking about my future still in the mist.
The "catch" in mountain climbing was that you don't have a clear idea where you are, or how close the peak was. Many times, you saw what appeared to be the top. Once you reached there, you discovered that it was just another hill on the way to the main peak. The path started to descend even. Although the descent was gentle and welcome for your tired legs, it also meant that once you went down, you had to go up eventually. You thought to yourself this was not very economical.
The ups and downs. The invisibles and visibles. Narrow sights and magnificent vistas. As I look back on my many childish ascents, I realize how well they could serve as metaphors for life.
The mountain metaphor colored my youth. I used to draw a mountain on the back of a calendar sheet, with dotted lines leading to the top. I would make progress marks as I finished reading a book, and approach the peak gradually. As I went upwards, I had the satisfaction of thing accomplished, and an imaginary feeling of dizziness.
Nowadays I stress the importance of spontaneity and playfulness, but I started my life as quite a serious climber.
As a kid I really loved wandering in the mountains. Often I had a butterfly net in my hand, and was looking in every direction with an eager look. Other times I was just taking it easy, enjoying the scenery, thinking about my future still in the mist.
The "catch" in mountain climbing was that you don't have a clear idea where you are, or how close the peak was. Many times, you saw what appeared to be the top. Once you reached there, you discovered that it was just another hill on the way to the main peak. The path started to descend even. Although the descent was gentle and welcome for your tired legs, it also meant that once you went down, you had to go up eventually. You thought to yourself this was not very economical.
The ups and downs. The invisibles and visibles. Narrow sights and magnificent vistas. As I look back on my many childish ascents, I realize how well they could serve as metaphors for life.
The mountain metaphor colored my youth. I used to draw a mountain on the back of a calendar sheet, with dotted lines leading to the top. I would make progress marks as I finished reading a book, and approach the peak gradually. As I went upwards, I had the satisfaction of thing accomplished, and an imaginary feeling of dizziness.
Nowadays I stress the importance of spontaneity and playfulness, but I started my life as quite a serious climber.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
The bearable lightness of being
Just a short note before I dash off this morning.
Whenever I go out of Japan, I buy a Swatch at the airport. I like its bearable lightness of being. I therefore have a considerably large collection, scattered all over the place. I cannot locate most of them.
I cannot bear the heavy feel of a metal watch. I don't take the Swatch bearing with ease. When I am at a table in a restaurant, I remove the Swatch from the wrist, and put it on my trousers. Sometimes I forget that I have moved the watch onto my belly, and search for it.
My Swatches float between existence and non-existence. That's why I like them.
Whenever I go out of Japan, I buy a Swatch at the airport. I like its bearable lightness of being. I therefore have a considerably large collection, scattered all over the place. I cannot locate most of them.
I cannot bear the heavy feel of a metal watch. I don't take the Swatch bearing with ease. When I am at a table in a restaurant, I remove the Swatch from the wrist, and put it on my trousers. Sometimes I forget that I have moved the watch onto my belly, and search for it.
My Swatches float between existence and non-existence. That's why I like them.
Friday, April 09, 2010
The octopus lady.
On my trip to Wales I experienced another extraordinary things.
I was studing in Cambridge then, and was accustomed to the restrained way in which the English people communicate. As I approached Cardiff on the coach, I noticed that people on the streets were noticeably more relaxed and musical in their conversation.
I remember quite well an evening in a Cardiff restaurant where there were about 10 ladies at a table. They were apparently having a very good time, making pleasant noises, laughing, and sometimes even singing. Later, I was told by my English friend that that kind of activity was called a "hen night".
On the next day, I was in a small town near Cardiff, waiting for my train to the West. I went into a small pub, and there, I had the experience of my life.
There were group of people with a guitar. I think they were in their 50s. A lady was singing merry songs with a group of gentlemen. I think they had consumed a handsome quantity of alcohol, judging from the way they enjoyed themselves.
I was sitting on the stool at the counter, watching their merriment from time to time.
The lady stoop up, and walked very slowly towards me. She swung her arms in a wave-like manner. The impression of the dance was rather like that of an octopus. This species of female octopus was found in a Welsh pub, in high noon.
I thought that the lady was going to the toilet. My guess was correct. She disappeared into the ladies' room, still dancing like an octopus.
On her way to the relief, she did one extraordinary thing, however. As she passed by me, she GRABBED my private part. She held it quite strongly, for a few seconds, and went on as if nothing happened, still being a female octopus on land.
The group laughed and sang on. Grabbing done, the lady held her thumb up. Apparently it was a friendly act of greeting. Probably they had drunken too much.
When the lady reappeared from the toilet, I was still astounded, as I had never experienced something like it. The lady, still dancing like an octopus, passed by me, and this time grabbed the private part of another Welsh gentleman sitting near me at the counter. The gentleman and the lady laughed together. The whole group laughed, to the accompaniment of the guitar.
As I went out of the pub to catch my train, the people greeted me, with strokes of the guitar strings. I waved back. Not unlike an octopus. The octopus fever was contagious.
As I recall, the whole experience looks like a midsummer's dream. I was welcomed to the Welsh way of unrestrained friend-making, with a grab.
A few days later, I was back in Cambridge, back to the world of reservation and subtle smiles. Something warm lingered in me, for ever and to this day.
I was studing in Cambridge then, and was accustomed to the restrained way in which the English people communicate. As I approached Cardiff on the coach, I noticed that people on the streets were noticeably more relaxed and musical in their conversation.
I remember quite well an evening in a Cardiff restaurant where there were about 10 ladies at a table. They were apparently having a very good time, making pleasant noises, laughing, and sometimes even singing. Later, I was told by my English friend that that kind of activity was called a "hen night".
On the next day, I was in a small town near Cardiff, waiting for my train to the West. I went into a small pub, and there, I had the experience of my life.
There were group of people with a guitar. I think they were in their 50s. A lady was singing merry songs with a group of gentlemen. I think they had consumed a handsome quantity of alcohol, judging from the way they enjoyed themselves.
I was sitting on the stool at the counter, watching their merriment from time to time.
The lady stoop up, and walked very slowly towards me. She swung her arms in a wave-like manner. The impression of the dance was rather like that of an octopus. This species of female octopus was found in a Welsh pub, in high noon.
I thought that the lady was going to the toilet. My guess was correct. She disappeared into the ladies' room, still dancing like an octopus.
On her way to the relief, she did one extraordinary thing, however. As she passed by me, she GRABBED my private part. She held it quite strongly, for a few seconds, and went on as if nothing happened, still being a female octopus on land.
The group laughed and sang on. Grabbing done, the lady held her thumb up. Apparently it was a friendly act of greeting. Probably they had drunken too much.
When the lady reappeared from the toilet, I was still astounded, as I had never experienced something like it. The lady, still dancing like an octopus, passed by me, and this time grabbed the private part of another Welsh gentleman sitting near me at the counter. The gentleman and the lady laughed together. The whole group laughed, to the accompaniment of the guitar.
As I went out of the pub to catch my train, the people greeted me, with strokes of the guitar strings. I waved back. Not unlike an octopus. The octopus fever was contagious.
As I recall, the whole experience looks like a midsummer's dream. I was welcomed to the Welsh way of unrestrained friend-making, with a grab.
A few days later, I was back in Cambridge, back to the world of reservation and subtle smiles. Something warm lingered in me, for ever and to this day.
Thursday, April 08, 2010
The small restaurant in St. David.
Once I was traveling in Wales, and went to a small town called St. David. I was strolling along the streets, when I discovered a small and cozy restaurant.
I was on my way, and had to hurry on. So a lunch stop was not possible. To this day, I hold the pleasant impression of that restaurant in my mind. At that time, I thought that I might be coming back someday and visit the restaurant. The memory and hope become fainter with the procession of time.
Even if I revisit the place again, it might not be and could not be the same. The owner might have changed. The town itself could have gone through what you would call "progress". I myself have changed for sure. My belly area is noticeably larger, I have more white hair, and my mindset has evolved, for better or worse.
In life, there are things like the small restaurant in St. David. You wished you could go back there, but in reality you don't and wouldn't. For some reasons, I also do not feel like searching for the restaurant on the internet either. I would like to keep the little gem in my life forever lost and luminous.
I was on my way, and had to hurry on. So a lunch stop was not possible. To this day, I hold the pleasant impression of that restaurant in my mind. At that time, I thought that I might be coming back someday and visit the restaurant. The memory and hope become fainter with the procession of time.
Even if I revisit the place again, it might not be and could not be the same. The owner might have changed. The town itself could have gone through what you would call "progress". I myself have changed for sure. My belly area is noticeably larger, I have more white hair, and my mindset has evolved, for better or worse.
In life, there are things like the small restaurant in St. David. You wished you could go back there, but in reality you don't and wouldn't. For some reasons, I also do not feel like searching for the restaurant on the internet either. I would like to keep the little gem in my life forever lost and luminous.
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