(Continued from yesterday)
Days passed, and I kept playing with the arrangements for the newt paradise. Within the small dimensions of the transparent glass case, I put some small stones, plants here and there, and kept changing their placements. The only thing was that I was not too sure whether the newt appreciated my efforts at all.
Then, the change gradually happened. I kept changing the water, feeding the newt, with less and less enthusiasm. There must have been ups and downs within the systems of the little creature even within the artificial bounds, but these were not immediately evident for me. A child's mind is whimsical. It is always seeking something interesting, and when there is nothing more to explore, the enthusiasm fades. Shining existence would so easily transform into dull non-existence.
One day, coming back from school, I realized that I had not looked into the newt's paradise for several days. It was the end of summer. The weather was still warm, with occasional heat spells. I could easily imagine that the water would be smelling now, due to the activities of the microorganisms which I did not care to think about. And the newt--I suddenly came to realize that I had not fed the newt all these days. Then the worry started.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Myself and the red-bellied newt
When I was about 10 years old, I went to a pet shop and encountered my newt. It was the Cynops pyrrhogaster (Japanese fire belly newt) species. Its cute form, and the vivid red color on the belly immediately captured my imagination.
The newt was not very expensive, well within the reach of my humble pocket money. I paid, and asked the owner to put it in a plastic bag. Gingerly, and with a heart full of imagination, I took the newt back home.
At that time, I was fond of devising all kinds of habitats for my pets. I made a grass jungle for my grasshopper. For the rice fish (Oryzias latipes), I put lots of small stones and water plants and imagined that I was one of the small creatures. For my newt, I prepared a whole small world of water, stone, and dirt, arranged in a way that I imagined would provide a high quality entertainment for the chap.
It was not long before I discovered that the newt was a rather dull animal. It does not move most of the time, and when it does, it jerks and then just stops. There was no question of a friendship between us. I did touch the newt and handled it in my hand from time to time, but from the way it wiggled its tails and opened and shut its mouth, I could not say that it was enjoying the experience very much. Soon, I learned that watching without interfering was the best newt policy for our co-existence.
(This essay to be continued tomorrow)
The newt was not very expensive, well within the reach of my humble pocket money. I paid, and asked the owner to put it in a plastic bag. Gingerly, and with a heart full of imagination, I took the newt back home.
At that time, I was fond of devising all kinds of habitats for my pets. I made a grass jungle for my grasshopper. For the rice fish (Oryzias latipes), I put lots of small stones and water plants and imagined that I was one of the small creatures. For my newt, I prepared a whole small world of water, stone, and dirt, arranged in a way that I imagined would provide a high quality entertainment for the chap.
It was not long before I discovered that the newt was a rather dull animal. It does not move most of the time, and when it does, it jerks and then just stops. There was no question of a friendship between us. I did touch the newt and handled it in my hand from time to time, but from the way it wiggled its tails and opened and shut its mouth, I could not say that it was enjoying the experience very much. Soon, I learned that watching without interfering was the best newt policy for our co-existence.
(This essay to be continued tomorrow)
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Master Darling and Kiyo
Yesterday, as I was moving through the maze that is Tokyo, I finished reading Botchan, written by Soseki Natsume, and translated by Yasotaro Morri, on my Amazon kindle.
The novel ends thus:
I forgot to tell you about Kiyo. On my arrival at Tokyo, I rushed into her house swinging my valise, before going to a hotel, with "Hello, Kiyo, I'm back!"
"How good of you to return so soon!" she cried and hot tears streamed down her cheeks. I was overjoyed, and declared that I would not go to the country any more but would start housekeeping with Kiyo in Tokyo.
Sometime afterward, some one helped me to a job as assistant engineer at the tram car office. The salary was 25 yen a month, and the house rent six. Although the house had not a magnificence front entrance, Kiyo seemed quite satisfied, but, I am sorry to say, she was a victim of pneumonia and died in February this year. On the day preceding her death, she asked me to bedside, and said, "Please, Master Darling, if Kiyo is dead, bury me in the temple yard of Master Darling. I will be glad to wait in the grave for my Master Darling."
So Kiyo's grave is in the Yogen temple at Kobinata.
As I perceive Japan to be in a great need of and actually in the process of serious transitions, and I myself have loads of things to worry about in my life, the last few weeks have been full of turmoil. After the storm, it was deeply rewarding to read the story of pure love (or "affection", should I say?) between Master Darling and Kiyo, who are not related and separated by age in a large number.
The novel ends thus:
I forgot to tell you about Kiyo. On my arrival at Tokyo, I rushed into her house swinging my valise, before going to a hotel, with "Hello, Kiyo, I'm back!"
"How good of you to return so soon!" she cried and hot tears streamed down her cheeks. I was overjoyed, and declared that I would not go to the country any more but would start housekeeping with Kiyo in Tokyo.
Sometime afterward, some one helped me to a job as assistant engineer at the tram car office. The salary was 25 yen a month, and the house rent six. Although the house had not a magnificence front entrance, Kiyo seemed quite satisfied, but, I am sorry to say, she was a victim of pneumonia and died in February this year. On the day preceding her death, she asked me to bedside, and said, "Please, Master Darling, if Kiyo is dead, bury me in the temple yard of Master Darling. I will be glad to wait in the grave for my Master Darling."
So Kiyo's grave is in the Yogen temple at Kobinata.
As I perceive Japan to be in a great need of and actually in the process of serious transitions, and I myself have loads of things to worry about in my life, the last few weeks have been full of turmoil. After the storm, it was deeply rewarding to read the story of pure love (or "affection", should I say?) between Master Darling and Kiyo, who are not related and separated by age in a large number.
Monday, September 13, 2010
Time for change.
I have not written into this English Journal for a little longer than a week now. The writing streak is now officially broken. I don't really care. Maybe my life is moving into a new stage.
One of the reasons why I did not (or could not) write into this journal was because I was busy tweeting in Japanese with my twitter account @kenichiromogi. (The English account is @kenmogi) It seemed, for a few glaring days, that the time for change has finally come to Japan. Away from the dominance of organizations and job titles, more freedom to individuals, farewell to the old press, and more important than not, a true reform in the political system.
I was being an accidental "activist" on the twitter, with much love and peace, together with some notable individuals in the Japanese cultural and political scene. And yet, (you know these things take time and make some surprising twists when you least expect them), it seems that we need a certain reflection period before it really happens.
It is probably true that the time for change is imminent for this country. For the time being, I am back to normal. There are loads of things to do, pro-change or otherwise, and there probably will be more bends in the road, both private and public.
One of the reasons why I did not (or could not) write into this journal was because I was busy tweeting in Japanese with my twitter account @kenichiromogi. (The English account is @kenmogi) It seemed, for a few glaring days, that the time for change has finally come to Japan. Away from the dominance of organizations and job titles, more freedom to individuals, farewell to the old press, and more important than not, a true reform in the political system.
I was being an accidental "activist" on the twitter, with much love and peace, together with some notable individuals in the Japanese cultural and political scene. And yet, (you know these things take time and make some surprising twists when you least expect them), it seems that we need a certain reflection period before it really happens.
It is probably true that the time for change is imminent for this country. For the time being, I am back to normal. There are loads of things to do, pro-change or otherwise, and there probably will be more bends in the road, both private and public.
Friday, September 03, 2010
The summer is gone.
I don't know how, but I do feel that the summer has gone.
Ever since childhood, at some time in August or September, I would suddenly come back to myself, and feel that the summer has now gone. I instantly go into a serious mood, ready to tackle heaps of books and do some thinking.
During the summer, I tend to be carefree, not really knowing where I am going, and would just let myself go, here and there, into the blue sky, over the sunset horizon. Then, when the cool breeze of September touches my cheeks, I would suddenly realize that there are things that only hard work and serious commitment can bring.
So this year, again, a few days ago, I suddenly felt again that the summer was now gone. Life welcomes change. Another wave has come and gone in my life. That makes the rhythm. Now I am ready to take some autumn and seriousness.
Ever since childhood, at some time in August or September, I would suddenly come back to myself, and feel that the summer has now gone. I instantly go into a serious mood, ready to tackle heaps of books and do some thinking.
During the summer, I tend to be carefree, not really knowing where I am going, and would just let myself go, here and there, into the blue sky, over the sunset horizon. Then, when the cool breeze of September touches my cheeks, I would suddenly realize that there are things that only hard work and serious commitment can bring.
So this year, again, a few days ago, I suddenly felt again that the summer was now gone. Life welcomes change. Another wave has come and gone in my life. That makes the rhythm. Now I am ready to take some autumn and seriousness.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Socratic method.
In many cultures a truth is simply bestowed upon the youth as given. You are not supposed to question the authorities, let alone to have new ideas yourself.
The Socratic method is quite the opposite. It emphasizes the process, rather than the end result. In a Socratic dialogue, nobody has the absolute authority. The ultimate truth, or something fuzzily and convergently approaching the truth, is to be co-discovered through the exchange of ideas.
In the internet era, with the advent of communication tools such as twitter, the Socratic method is finding a new significance. Now it is easy to exchange ideas with people over a large physical distance. The sheer density and purity of the dynamics of exchange is contributing to the amassing of the critical mass.
The Socratic method needs to be studied and practiced in earnest, in search of the new principles of distributed enlightment.
The Socratic method.
The Socratic method is quite the opposite. It emphasizes the process, rather than the end result. In a Socratic dialogue, nobody has the absolute authority. The ultimate truth, or something fuzzily and convergently approaching the truth, is to be co-discovered through the exchange of ideas.
In the internet era, with the advent of communication tools such as twitter, the Socratic method is finding a new significance. Now it is easy to exchange ideas with people over a large physical distance. The sheer density and purity of the dynamics of exchange is contributing to the amassing of the critical mass.
The Socratic method needs to be studied and practiced in earnest, in search of the new principles of distributed enlightment.
The Socratic method.
Michael Sandel.
On Thursday, I had a wonderful time interviewing Michael Sandel in Tokyo for a magazine. Sandel's "Justice" (http://www.justiceharvard.org/) is very popular in Japan, as elsewhere in the world. The whole lecture has been broadcast on NHK educational. Lots of people were deeply inspired by Prof. Sandel's passionate teaching.
Prof. Sandel told me how much hard work has been put into the making of the series. Although there are lots of open coursewares on the web, the "Justice" program is unique in the quality of the video work, not to mention the academic excellence.
Although the ambience of the Harvard classroom was one of the key elements in the "Justice" experience, the defining moment came from deep thinking. In the first lecture, after discussing the Trolley car example, Prof. Sandel goes on to deliver a short speech. That's when he says that the purpose of the lecture was to incur a "restlessness of reason" in the students. I almost gasped when it came. The restless of reason has been in me ever since.
With Michael Sandel in Tokyo.
Prof. Sandel told me how much hard work has been put into the making of the series. Although there are lots of open coursewares on the web, the "Justice" program is unique in the quality of the video work, not to mention the academic excellence.
Although the ambience of the Harvard classroom was one of the key elements in the "Justice" experience, the defining moment came from deep thinking. In the first lecture, after discussing the Trolley car example, Prof. Sandel goes on to deliver a short speech. That's when he says that the purpose of the lecture was to incur a "restlessness of reason" in the students. I almost gasped when it came. The restless of reason has been in me ever since.
With Michael Sandel in Tokyo.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Which is a good thing.
For a long time, Japan has prided itself as the first nation to modernize in the region of Asia. Despite the terrible and self-brought defeat in the Second World War, Japan has somehow clung to the title of "the foremost in the region." Until recently, that is.
Now Japan seems to have lost all its confidence. In my own perspective, for someone born and brought up in Japan, this shift in the national psyche is needless to say sad, although admittedly tinged with the excitement of new competitiveness.
Personally, in my own life, I have always enjoyed the game of catching up. My home country losing the position of no.1 is no problem for me, especially as I tend to base the value of my own existence and others' independent from any nationalistic thinking anyway.
Recent travel to Singapore (I just got back to Tokyo this morning) convinced me that now the tropical nation of 5 million people is more advanced than Japan in many respects. Especially as regards the immigration policy. I never understood how it is, but some people in Japan are ultra-conservative about welcoming people from abroad as collaborators in society building. As far as I am concerned, people are people everywhere. There is no reason why people from abroad should not be encouraged to come to Japan and enjoy the opportunity for challenge...in a slightly different way from the ethnic Japanese, perhaps, therefore adding to the diversity of people's traits in the process.
As I have stated, I think Japan is losing its self-confidence. Which is a good thing. One always has the chance of reviewing oneself from the external point of view, when one has a crisis in one's self confidence. Most probably, the time for self-doubt and soul searching has come to Japan.
Now Japan seems to have lost all its confidence. In my own perspective, for someone born and brought up in Japan, this shift in the national psyche is needless to say sad, although admittedly tinged with the excitement of new competitiveness.
Personally, in my own life, I have always enjoyed the game of catching up. My home country losing the position of no.1 is no problem for me, especially as I tend to base the value of my own existence and others' independent from any nationalistic thinking anyway.
Recent travel to Singapore (I just got back to Tokyo this morning) convinced me that now the tropical nation of 5 million people is more advanced than Japan in many respects. Especially as regards the immigration policy. I never understood how it is, but some people in Japan are ultra-conservative about welcoming people from abroad as collaborators in society building. As far as I am concerned, people are people everywhere. There is no reason why people from abroad should not be encouraged to come to Japan and enjoy the opportunity for challenge...in a slightly different way from the ethnic Japanese, perhaps, therefore adding to the diversity of people's traits in the process.
As I have stated, I think Japan is losing its self-confidence. Which is a good thing. One always has the chance of reviewing oneself from the external point of view, when one has a crisis in one's self confidence. Most probably, the time for self-doubt and soul searching has come to Japan.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Institution is the last resort of a scoundrel.
On the second day at the CUTE center in NUS (National University Singapore), we had another hectic and yet deeply enjoyable time. In the morning, we discussed in the session of Society 2.0, chaired by Penny Low, Member of the Singaporean Parliament. Adrian Cheok and Masa Inakage joined in, adding stimulation to the already heated and heating debate.
In the afternoon, we had a public talk on the NUS campus. The groove was fantastic. Thomas Crampton, social media guru specializing in China and Asia, (Thomas Crampton's webpage) started his talk capturing in video the dialogue with Yair Goldfinger, founder of ICQ. When I asked Thomas what he was doing, he said he was just shooting for youtube. A speaker on stage capturing his own talk for youtube! That was just the right atmosphere for me.
Talks by Yair Goldfinger and Penny Low followed. It was my turn to give a talk. I discussed how the evolving contingency structures on the net was nurturing humanity 2.0. Woo Woontack then gave an excellent talk on augmented reality.
In the Panel discussion that followed, I said something that I would only say when I felt certain that the audience was the right kind and the reception would be electric. I said, just as in the famous quote by Samuel Johnson "Patriotism is the last resort of a scoundrel", nowadays "Institution is the last resort of a scoundrel." Thomas Crampton jibed in, saying that universities should aim to be open to the public as much as possible, as it was the mission of the universities to spread knowledge to the wider society.
There was a memorable response from a man in the auditorium who said that he was living on an island which was 12 hours ride on boat from Singapore, and how he was accessing all the academic information thanks to the internet.
Before we knew it, it was twilight. We had a wonderful party on the NUS campus. At such times, I have a habit of strolling away from the people. When I was admiring the Singaporean sunset alone, I noticed there was another soul looking in that direction. It was none other than Masa Inakage.
At these moments one feels that two souls are resonating. Masa was admiring the same natural wonder with me, without knowing that I was hiding myself in the darkness of night.
Penny Low, M.P, in the morning session.
Adrian Cheok and Masa Inakage
Thomas Crampton capturing his own talk for youtube. Yair Goldfinger is being interviewed.
The sunset on the NUS campus.
Masa Inakage admiring the same sunset.
In the afternoon, we had a public talk on the NUS campus. The groove was fantastic. Thomas Crampton, social media guru specializing in China and Asia, (Thomas Crampton's webpage) started his talk capturing in video the dialogue with Yair Goldfinger, founder of ICQ. When I asked Thomas what he was doing, he said he was just shooting for youtube. A speaker on stage capturing his own talk for youtube! That was just the right atmosphere for me.
Talks by Yair Goldfinger and Penny Low followed. It was my turn to give a talk. I discussed how the evolving contingency structures on the net was nurturing humanity 2.0. Woo Woontack then gave an excellent talk on augmented reality.
In the Panel discussion that followed, I said something that I would only say when I felt certain that the audience was the right kind and the reception would be electric. I said, just as in the famous quote by Samuel Johnson "Patriotism is the last resort of a scoundrel", nowadays "Institution is the last resort of a scoundrel." Thomas Crampton jibed in, saying that universities should aim to be open to the public as much as possible, as it was the mission of the universities to spread knowledge to the wider society.
There was a memorable response from a man in the auditorium who said that he was living on an island which was 12 hours ride on boat from Singapore, and how he was accessing all the academic information thanks to the internet.
Before we knew it, it was twilight. We had a wonderful party on the NUS campus. At such times, I have a habit of strolling away from the people. When I was admiring the Singaporean sunset alone, I noticed there was another soul looking in that direction. It was none other than Masa Inakage.
At these moments one feels that two souls are resonating. Masa was admiring the same natural wonder with me, without knowing that I was hiding myself in the darkness of night.
Penny Low, M.P, in the morning session.
Adrian Cheok and Masa Inakage
Thomas Crampton capturing his own talk for youtube. Yair Goldfinger is being interviewed.
The sunset on the NUS campus.
Masa Inakage admiring the same sunset.
I kept walking, singing the unsung song of praise.
Since I came to Singapore a few days ago, one of the things that attracted my attention has been the sheer cultural diversity. Chinese, Malay, Indian, Indonesian, and other cultures are mixed in an impressive atmosphere of tolerance and creative fusion.
The other night we were invited by Jimmy, a friend of Atsushi Sasaki, to a sea food restaurant. We found ourselves in the suburb of Singapore, Jurong West, far from any tourist destinations and right in the middle of residential area. It was a rare opportunity to immerse oneself deep in the Singaporean way of life, as it happens unsung, unreported, but full of life under the tropical sun.
When dusk fell, everything seemed to become gentle. There was some magic in the air. As I stood alone in a market place, I felt that one star was too bright to be true. No matter how long you gaze at it, the star did not change its position.
We had a wonderful supper at the sea food restaurant. While eating, I strolled around. There were many manifestations of the different cultures that make up Singapore. Visualization is the spirit of today. Visualization of diversity is something particularly divine and rewarding. I kept walking, singing the unsung song of praise.
The other night we were invited by Jimmy, a friend of Atsushi Sasaki, to a sea food restaurant. We found ourselves in the suburb of Singapore, Jurong West, far from any tourist destinations and right in the middle of residential area. It was a rare opportunity to immerse oneself deep in the Singaporean way of life, as it happens unsung, unreported, but full of life under the tropical sun.
When dusk fell, everything seemed to become gentle. There was some magic in the air. As I stood alone in a market place, I felt that one star was too bright to be true. No matter how long you gaze at it, the star did not change its position.
We had a wonderful supper at the sea food restaurant. While eating, I strolled around. There were many manifestations of the different cultures that make up Singapore. Visualization is the spirit of today. Visualization of diversity is something particularly divine and rewarding. I kept walking, singing the unsung song of praise.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Seeking nature in Singapore.
Singapore is such an urban country on the surface. You have the impression that no matter where you go, you find buildings and paved streets. A friend of mine told me that if you go to the Singapore zoo, you will find the land as it was before development, covered all over with jungle vegetations. That gave me an inspiration, without actually visiting the zoo.
During the coffee break of conference at the National University of Singapore, I took a walk. Although I was not aware of my motives, I think I was unconsciously seeking nature.
After a few minutes, I came to the border of development. The flat land that surrounded the buildings ended, and there was a rather steep slope. It was covered thick with trees and plants, something that I had not seen in Singapore before, but something which, when you came to think about it, was only natural in such a tropical climate.
Wandering around, I witnessed several butteflies fly. Welcome to fragments of Singapore before civilization. I cried with joy in my heart. Something came to fruition after all those years.
During the coffee break of conference at the National University of Singapore, I took a walk. Although I was not aware of my motives, I think I was unconsciously seeking nature.
After a few minutes, I came to the border of development. The flat land that surrounded the buildings ended, and there was a rather steep slope. It was covered thick with trees and plants, something that I had not seen in Singapore before, but something which, when you came to think about it, was only natural in such a tropical climate.
Wandering around, I witnessed several butteflies fly. Welcome to fragments of Singapore before civilization. I cried with joy in my heart. Something came to fruition after all those years.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Rebel with reason.
I am in Singapore now, attending a conference at National University Singapore.
I met with Ilya Farber, my neurophilosophical friend now based in Singapore. We were discussing about various matters over Mexican food, when Ilya mentioned about the spirit of rebel in the United States.
Obedience without reason was not appreciated highly in the United States, Ilya said. If you have a reason to do something against the convention at a time, you are encouraged to do so. Rebel with reason is better than obedience without reason. That is the American spirit, Ilya told me while we were enjoying the night breeze of Singapore.
We also engaged ourselves in discussions on the philosophy of pragmatism. What a stimulating night!
Ilya Farber in a Tokyo restaurant earlier this year.
I met with Ilya Farber, my neurophilosophical friend now based in Singapore. We were discussing about various matters over Mexican food, when Ilya mentioned about the spirit of rebel in the United States.
Obedience without reason was not appreciated highly in the United States, Ilya said. If you have a reason to do something against the convention at a time, you are encouraged to do so. Rebel with reason is better than obedience without reason. That is the American spirit, Ilya told me while we were enjoying the night breeze of Singapore.
We also engaged ourselves in discussions on the philosophy of pragmatism. What a stimulating night!
Ilya Farber in a Tokyo restaurant earlier this year.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Sixth sense
As the sheer volume of information available for an average individual increased, we really need a keen and well-tuned "sixth sense" while surfing on the web.
More often than not, when using the internet, there is no logical necessity to look up a particular website, except for cases where the purpose is specific. Out of the possible sequential combinations of web visits, one can only conduct a single track visit, killing all other possibilities.
When you think about it, it is an awesome sight. While the texts on the web are "read" by search engines and robots, the human mind is ever restricted in its capacity and spans of attention. There is a "jump" from the multitude of possibilities to the finitude of actual choices. Thus, you really need a "sixth sense" to make most of the web and enrich your life. The next website you are going to visit my change your destiny, or forever confine you in the mundane every day.
The question is, what constitute the "sixth sense" in terms of practical actions and reviewing customs?
More often than not, when using the internet, there is no logical necessity to look up a particular website, except for cases where the purpose is specific. Out of the possible sequential combinations of web visits, one can only conduct a single track visit, killing all other possibilities.
When you think about it, it is an awesome sight. While the texts on the web are "read" by search engines and robots, the human mind is ever restricted in its capacity and spans of attention. There is a "jump" from the multitude of possibilities to the finitude of actual choices. Thus, you really need a "sixth sense" to make most of the web and enrich your life. The next website you are going to visit my change your destiny, or forever confine you in the mundane every day.
The question is, what constitute the "sixth sense" in terms of practical actions and reviewing customs?
Sixth sense
As the sheer volume of information available for an average individual increased, we really need a keen and well-tuned "sixth sense" while surfing on the web.
More often than not, when using the internet, there is no logical necessity to look up a particular website, except for cases where the purpose is specific. Out of the possible sequential combinations of web visits, one can only conduct a single track visit, killing all other possibilities.
When you think about it, it is an awesome sight. While the texts on the web are "read" by search engines and robots, the human mind is ever restricted in its capacity and spans of attention. There is a "jump" from the multitude of possibilities to the finitude of actual choices. Thus, you really need a "sixth sense" to make most of the web and enrich your life. The next website you are going to visit my change your destiny, or forever confine you in the mundane every day.
The question is, what constitute the "sixth sense" in terms of practical actions and reviewing customs?
More often than not, when using the internet, there is no logical necessity to look up a particular website, except for cases where the purpose is specific. Out of the possible sequential combinations of web visits, one can only conduct a single track visit, killing all other possibilities.
When you think about it, it is an awesome sight. While the texts on the web are "read" by search engines and robots, the human mind is ever restricted in its capacity and spans of attention. There is a "jump" from the multitude of possibilities to the finitude of actual choices. Thus, you really need a "sixth sense" to make most of the web and enrich your life. The next website you are going to visit my change your destiny, or forever confine you in the mundane every day.
The question is, what constitute the "sixth sense" in terms of practical actions and reviewing customs?
Friday, August 20, 2010
A fool can be cured only when he dies (II).
(continued from yesterday)
The phrase "a fool can be cured only when he dies." is a very famous one in Japan, known even among the children (in its original Japanese expression, of course). I grew up with the phrase, saying occasionally the phrase "a fool can be cured only when he dies" to each other as a kid. The implication was that being a fool was a condition that could not be cured so easily. The message was to accept each other's unique condition, including being a fool. Because "a fool can be cured only when he dies", one had to be tolerant to each other.
It was only after I grew up that I learned that the phrase actually came from the famous Rokyoku piece "The Tale of Jirocho Shimizu" by Torazo Hirosawa. Jirocho, a powerful and thoughtful leader, thought highly of and loved one of his disciples, Ishimatsu of Mori. Ishimatsu was a courageous and strong man. Ishimatsu, however, was a foolish man. Ishimatsu lacked the ability to calculate, take precautions, and make necessary preparations. Precisely because Ishimatsu was foolish, he could be brave and endeavoring at the same time. The phrase "a fool can be cured only when he dies" is thus a praise of Ishimatsu's boldness. Looking back, I think we knew its deep significance intuitively when we were throwing the phrase to each other in our elementary school days.
A record cover featuring Torazo Hirosa and Ishimatsu of Mori.
The phrase "a fool can be cured only when he dies." is a very famous one in Japan, known even among the children (in its original Japanese expression, of course). I grew up with the phrase, saying occasionally the phrase "a fool can be cured only when he dies" to each other as a kid. The implication was that being a fool was a condition that could not be cured so easily. The message was to accept each other's unique condition, including being a fool. Because "a fool can be cured only when he dies", one had to be tolerant to each other.
It was only after I grew up that I learned that the phrase actually came from the famous Rokyoku piece "The Tale of Jirocho Shimizu" by Torazo Hirosawa. Jirocho, a powerful and thoughtful leader, thought highly of and loved one of his disciples, Ishimatsu of Mori. Ishimatsu was a courageous and strong man. Ishimatsu, however, was a foolish man. Ishimatsu lacked the ability to calculate, take precautions, and make necessary preparations. Precisely because Ishimatsu was foolish, he could be brave and endeavoring at the same time. The phrase "a fool can be cured only when he dies" is thus a praise of Ishimatsu's boldness. Looking back, I think we knew its deep significance intuitively when we were throwing the phrase to each other in our elementary school days.
A record cover featuring Torazo Hirosa and Ishimatsu of Mori.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
A fool can be cured only when he dies.
Japanese literature has a rich tradition in the philosophy of life. The genre of Rokyoku, in which important events and life histories of famous persons are recounted in a dramatic and engaging way, provides a particularly resonant medium for the appreciation of life.
Torazo Hirosawa (1899-1964) is a universally recognized genius in the genre of Rokyoku (musical and dramatic recounting of the life of historical figures). Torazo's mastery resides in the organic combination of the tragic and the comic.
Torazo's legendary performance of the Life of Jirocho Shimizu (1820-1893), a gangster and political activist at the same time, is full of heart-wringing drama of life and death. A particularly poignant phrase is "A fool can be cured only when he dies."
(To be continued tomorrow)
Torazo Hirosawa
Torazo Hirosawa (1899-1964) is a universally recognized genius in the genre of Rokyoku (musical and dramatic recounting of the life of historical figures). Torazo's mastery resides in the organic combination of the tragic and the comic.
Torazo's legendary performance of the Life of Jirocho Shimizu (1820-1893), a gangster and political activist at the same time, is full of heart-wringing drama of life and death. A particularly poignant phrase is "A fool can be cured only when he dies."
(To be continued tomorrow)
Torazo Hirosawa
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Cartoons unawares
We have our weekly lab meeting, where we hold the journal club and also discuss things. One of my students (he has a Ph.D now so he is technically no longer a student of mine but I always feel that he is still one), Takayasu Sekine, is very good at making drawings.
I am often caught unawares by a cartoon of my image on the white board. Yes, I am a bit overweight, but I am not THAT
overweight. He draws me as a fur seal, lying lazily on the rock. I might be lazy at times, but not THAT lazy.
Here's a recent drawing of me (apparently) that I discovered on the white board. When I realize that Takayasu has made another cartoon, I look at him glaringly, and he returns a peevish smile. Maybe one of these days I will take revenge. Takayasu looks like a platypus, some people have said.
One of the cartoons apparently depicting me found on the white board at the occasion of a recent journal club.
Takayasu Sekine with one of his drawings.
I am often caught unawares by a cartoon of my image on the white board. Yes, I am a bit overweight, but I am not THAT
overweight. He draws me as a fur seal, lying lazily on the rock. I might be lazy at times, but not THAT lazy.
Here's a recent drawing of me (apparently) that I discovered on the white board. When I realize that Takayasu has made another cartoon, I look at him glaringly, and he returns a peevish smile. Maybe one of these days I will take revenge. Takayasu looks like a platypus, some people have said.
One of the cartoons apparently depicting me found on the white board at the occasion of a recent journal club.
Takayasu Sekine with one of his drawings.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
I want to have everything, RIGHT NOW!
When I was in the teens, I often wanted to have everything RIGHT NOW! As ignorant youths often do, I wanted fame, not in many years later, but right then in my mature youth. I wanted a beautiful and caring lover the same day. I wanted to author a great masterpiece and be forever remembered in history. And I wanted that transition from anonymity to fame happen within a day, or better still, within a moment!
Looking back, I of course understand how ridiculous these wishes have been (otherwise I would not be living a normal social life--yes, it IS debatable whether the particular social life that I am leading in and around Tokyo is something that can be termed "normal"). However, I do feel at the same time that in the Sturm und Drang, in that ignorant storm of youth, there was something to be cherished and treasured.
Maybe I need some element of the "I want to have everything RIGHT NOW!" state of mind right now in my (supposedly) mature life.
Looking back, I of course understand how ridiculous these wishes have been (otherwise I would not be living a normal social life--yes, it IS debatable whether the particular social life that I am leading in and around Tokyo is something that can be termed "normal"). However, I do feel at the same time that in the Sturm und Drang, in that ignorant storm of youth, there was something to be cherished and treasured.
Maybe I need some element of the "I want to have everything RIGHT NOW!" state of mind right now in my (supposedly) mature life.
Monday, August 16, 2010
The great transition from hate to love.
Nowadays I really enjoy a cold glass of beer in the evening. After a strenuous work day in the heat island of Tokyo, what better ways are there to wind up and get relaxed than cheers and clinks of glass?
Now that beer has become an indispensable part of my life, I sometimes wonder what made me shrink from the very idea when I was a kid. Needless to say I was below the legal drinking age, but my abhorrence of beer seemed to carry something more extreme and deep. I suspect that is the case with many children. And yet, as you grow up, in the magical transformation of age, you learn to love the bitter liquid.
One day you hate it, the other day you just love it. The great transition from hate to love. Yet another enigma of life.
Now that beer has become an indispensable part of my life, I sometimes wonder what made me shrink from the very idea when I was a kid. Needless to say I was below the legal drinking age, but my abhorrence of beer seemed to carry something more extreme and deep. I suspect that is the case with many children. And yet, as you grow up, in the magical transformation of age, you learn to love the bitter liquid.
One day you hate it, the other day you just love it. The great transition from hate to love. Yet another enigma of life.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Cream puffs
Yesterday, when I returned from the studio of All Japan Senior High School Quiz championship, I found a box. Tomio said that it was for me. Apparently, a kind editor visited me and left it as a souvenir.
After the shooting was over, we went to an Indian restaurant near the Nippon television. Several other editors came, and we had a very joyous evening.
I tend to be careless about these things, so I did not look into the box until I went home. When I opened the paper bag, I discovered that there were two, rather than just one, boxes. Inside the box, I found several cream puffs.
Had I realized that I had almost 10 cream puffs in the bag, I would have surely shared them with my friends. Due to my negligence, I had taken them all home.
Now, I love cream puffs in general, but usually do not consume more than one cream puffs in a row. Now I found myself in a situation where I had to eat several cream puffs, in order to save the value while they are fresh.
This morning, I have eaten two cream puffs already. Probably I have to extend my jogging distance by twofold, making friends with the butterflies in the forest and sweating like summer rain.
After the shooting was over, we went to an Indian restaurant near the Nippon television. Several other editors came, and we had a very joyous evening.
I tend to be careless about these things, so I did not look into the box until I went home. When I opened the paper bag, I discovered that there were two, rather than just one, boxes. Inside the box, I found several cream puffs.
Had I realized that I had almost 10 cream puffs in the bag, I would have surely shared them with my friends. Due to my negligence, I had taken them all home.
Now, I love cream puffs in general, but usually do not consume more than one cream puffs in a row. Now I found myself in a situation where I had to eat several cream puffs, in order to save the value while they are fresh.
This morning, I have eaten two cream puffs already. Probably I have to extend my jogging distance by twofold, making friends with the butterflies in the forest and sweating like summer rain.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Hiding (IV).
(continued from yesterday)
I left the mountain brook and started to walk towards the middle-aged man's voice. The road was covered with dirt, and the evening sunshine was casting an orange light on it. "Ooi" the middle-aged man called again. From the loudness of voice, it was clear that he was quite near me now.
I walked on, and from behind the curve in the road, the middle-aged man appeared. I saw him, and he saw me. I swung my butterfly net to and fro, pretending to search for a butterfly. Then I had nothing to do. I now had to look into the middle-aged man's eyes,
"Why didn't you answer back?" The middle-aged man said, with somewhat rough breath. "Why didn't you answer back, when I called you? I called you many times. Why didn't you say something?"
I could not answer. I could not answer, as I did not know the answer myself. I did not know why I had not yelled back to the calls of "Ooi." I did not know why I felt shy and wanted to hide from the middle-aged man. I did not know why I wanted to be alone in the forest.
"I am sorry." was my feeble answer. "I was chasing the butterflies and...." I almost felt like sobbing. The middle-aged man smiled. "It is all right. Now that I have found you safe, everything is all right. But we need to go to the bus station very quickly now. Otherwise we have to spend the night in the mountains".
Having something to do was such a relief. I hurried, almost ran, to the bus station. The emotional crisis was over.
As I galloped though the path, I started to laugh. I could not suppress the impulse. I laughed peevishly first, trying to hide the big smile from the middle-aged man. Finally, I could stand it any more. I burst out, and the middle aged man, who was running beside me, laughed heartily, too.
(End of this essay)
I left the mountain brook and started to walk towards the middle-aged man's voice. The road was covered with dirt, and the evening sunshine was casting an orange light on it. "Ooi" the middle-aged man called again. From the loudness of voice, it was clear that he was quite near me now.
I walked on, and from behind the curve in the road, the middle-aged man appeared. I saw him, and he saw me. I swung my butterfly net to and fro, pretending to search for a butterfly. Then I had nothing to do. I now had to look into the middle-aged man's eyes,
"Why didn't you answer back?" The middle-aged man said, with somewhat rough breath. "Why didn't you answer back, when I called you? I called you many times. Why didn't you say something?"
I could not answer. I could not answer, as I did not know the answer myself. I did not know why I had not yelled back to the calls of "Ooi." I did not know why I felt shy and wanted to hide from the middle-aged man. I did not know why I wanted to be alone in the forest.
"I am sorry." was my feeble answer. "I was chasing the butterflies and...." I almost felt like sobbing. The middle-aged man smiled. "It is all right. Now that I have found you safe, everything is all right. But we need to go to the bus station very quickly now. Otherwise we have to spend the night in the mountains".
Having something to do was such a relief. I hurried, almost ran, to the bus station. The emotional crisis was over.
As I galloped though the path, I started to laugh. I could not suppress the impulse. I laughed peevishly first, trying to hide the big smile from the middle-aged man. Finally, I could stand it any more. I burst out, and the middle aged man, who was running beside me, laughed heartily, too.
(End of this essay)
Friday, August 13, 2010
Hiding (III).
To this day, I do not understand what was behind my impulse to hide from the middle-aged man. It was not that he looked dangerous or anything. When you think about it really hard, he looked somewhat similar to a young teacher who scolded us in the classroom when we were third graders. But that was just a superficial likeness. For all I could tell, his intentions were good. Kindness radiated from his countenance. And yet, somehow I wanted to hide from the man.
Perhaps I felt that peace and tranquility had been disturbed through the conversations with him. Although the chat was lively and enjoyable, probably I would have preferred being alone in the forest, listening to the sound of silence. Possibly I was secretly indignant that it was too late to regain that desired tranquility. The day was already almost spent. And I had to start heading for the station very soon. Probably I was angry with the man. Or perhaps I was just being a little bit shy.
"Ooi! Where on earth are you?!" "Ooi, are you all right?" The middle-aged man kept shouting, and his voice became louder gradually. He started to sound quite concerned. Probably, he thought that I was lost or something. He might have been thinking that I was hurt and unable to move. It might have well been that he feared I was unconscious.
When I put myself in the position of the middle-aged man now, I can well understand his concerns. Here was a 12 years old boy alone in the mountains, chasing butterfly. The boy had been chatting in a very friendly manner all the while, and all of sudden the boy was no more. No matter how often and loud you called, the boy did not answer. Maybe there had been an accident. Maybe there had been something serious. With the benefit of hindsight, it was no wonder that the middle-aged man was concerned.
I could see such a line of logic on that day, even. I felt that I had a moral obligation to yell back. However, something inhibited me from doing so. There was this strange and uncontrollable agitation in my heart. As time passed, and as the middle-aged man's calls became louder and more desperate, I increasingly felt that it was now probably too late to answer back. In the beginning, it was just a tiny twist in my whimsical mind. I just failed to answer the first few yells. And yet, now that I had remained silent for such a long time, the middle-aged man should be suspecting that there was some intention on my part, something hideous, something even vicious. And I could not bear such thoughts any more.
(This story is to be continued tomorrow)
Perhaps I felt that peace and tranquility had been disturbed through the conversations with him. Although the chat was lively and enjoyable, probably I would have preferred being alone in the forest, listening to the sound of silence. Possibly I was secretly indignant that it was too late to regain that desired tranquility. The day was already almost spent. And I had to start heading for the station very soon. Probably I was angry with the man. Or perhaps I was just being a little bit shy.
"Ooi! Where on earth are you?!" "Ooi, are you all right?" The middle-aged man kept shouting, and his voice became louder gradually. He started to sound quite concerned. Probably, he thought that I was lost or something. He might have been thinking that I was hurt and unable to move. It might have well been that he feared I was unconscious.
When I put myself in the position of the middle-aged man now, I can well understand his concerns. Here was a 12 years old boy alone in the mountains, chasing butterfly. The boy had been chatting in a very friendly manner all the while, and all of sudden the boy was no more. No matter how often and loud you called, the boy did not answer. Maybe there had been an accident. Maybe there had been something serious. With the benefit of hindsight, it was no wonder that the middle-aged man was concerned.
I could see such a line of logic on that day, even. I felt that I had a moral obligation to yell back. However, something inhibited me from doing so. There was this strange and uncontrollable agitation in my heart. As time passed, and as the middle-aged man's calls became louder and more desperate, I increasingly felt that it was now probably too late to answer back. In the beginning, it was just a tiny twist in my whimsical mind. I just failed to answer the first few yells. And yet, now that I had remained silent for such a long time, the middle-aged man should be suspecting that there was some intention on my part, something hideous, something even vicious. And I could not bear such thoughts any more.
(This story is to be continued tomorrow)
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Hiding (II).
The middle-aged man I met along the mountain brook said that we walk together. I said fine. So both of us set out to look for Panchala ganesa loomisi.
Within my bosom, my secret wish was to just glance at this lovely butterfly in flight. The ephemeral bluish color on the wing should present a fascinating flickering light when the butterfly is airborne, I imagined. It was almost like an anguished longing.
However, no matter how hard we looked, Panchala ganesa loomisi did not come into view. There were some other butterfly species which looked similar to Panchala ganesa loomisi. Narathura japonica, for example. Every time a likely candidate came into the view, I jumped and run. Every time it turned out to be yet another false alarm.
Time passed, and the sunlight started to weaken. Evidently, I had to start heading home in a few minutes. At that time, I was wandering in the forest on my own. I had been walking with the middle-aged man, but had parted at some time earlier. This was not an unusual action for a butterfly chaser. After all, nature is vast, and it is always a good idea to cover different habitats, in an effort to conduct a joint "filtering" operation.
Suddenly, I heard the man yell out for me. "Ooi", I could hear his voice. "Ooi, where are you?" I could tell that he was quite near. Maybe he wanted to make sure that I was O.K. Maybe he was thinking that he would kindly take me to the station. After all, I was only 12 years old. However, due to the thick foliage, I could not see him. And vice versa.
Out of the blue, I wanted to hide. I felt that I did not want to join that man anymore. I did not know what happened to me. I just wanted to hide, in the tranquility of the forest.
(This story is to be continued tomorrow)
Within my bosom, my secret wish was to just glance at this lovely butterfly in flight. The ephemeral bluish color on the wing should present a fascinating flickering light when the butterfly is airborne, I imagined. It was almost like an anguished longing.
However, no matter how hard we looked, Panchala ganesa loomisi did not come into view. There were some other butterfly species which looked similar to Panchala ganesa loomisi. Narathura japonica, for example. Every time a likely candidate came into the view, I jumped and run. Every time it turned out to be yet another false alarm.
Time passed, and the sunlight started to weaken. Evidently, I had to start heading home in a few minutes. At that time, I was wandering in the forest on my own. I had been walking with the middle-aged man, but had parted at some time earlier. This was not an unusual action for a butterfly chaser. After all, nature is vast, and it is always a good idea to cover different habitats, in an effort to conduct a joint "filtering" operation.
Suddenly, I heard the man yell out for me. "Ooi", I could hear his voice. "Ooi, where are you?" I could tell that he was quite near. Maybe he wanted to make sure that I was O.K. Maybe he was thinking that he would kindly take me to the station. After all, I was only 12 years old. However, due to the thick foliage, I could not see him. And vice versa.
Out of the blue, I wanted to hide. I felt that I did not want to join that man anymore. I did not know what happened to me. I just wanted to hide, in the tranquility of the forest.
(This story is to be continued tomorrow)
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Hiding (I)
When I was 12 years old, I wanted so much to capture a particular butterfly species, Panchala ganesa loomisi,. It was a small and lovely butterfly. The habitat of this rare species was very limited. Around Tokyo, there was one mountain range where the butterfly inhabited. One Sunday I could not stand it anymore. I jumped onto a train and ventured off to that area of promise.
It was not long after arriving that I realized that the search was going to be difficult. The forestation was quite dense, and the biomass was large. That should have been a good sign in the general sense. However, it also meant that the butterflies would be dispersed and hard to find, even if there were any.
I knew from prior knowledge from books and magazines that I would have to go down to the mountain brooks to have a good chance of encountering the butterfly. When I was walking along a flow, I met with a middle aged man. The man held a butterfly net in his hand, just like me. He asked me "did you come for the Panchala ganesa loomisi?" I answered "yes". We started to chat. The man said that it was great of me to come all the way to this mountain alone, considering my age. I felt proud and happy to hear that. Evidently, he was a very nice man.
(This story is to be continued tomorrow)
Panchala ganesa loomisi
It was not long after arriving that I realized that the search was going to be difficult. The forestation was quite dense, and the biomass was large. That should have been a good sign in the general sense. However, it also meant that the butterflies would be dispersed and hard to find, even if there were any.
I knew from prior knowledge from books and magazines that I would have to go down to the mountain brooks to have a good chance of encountering the butterfly. When I was walking along a flow, I met with a middle aged man. The man held a butterfly net in his hand, just like me. He asked me "did you come for the Panchala ganesa loomisi?" I answered "yes". We started to chat. The man said that it was great of me to come all the way to this mountain alone, considering my age. I felt proud and happy to hear that. Evidently, he was a very nice man.
(This story is to be continued tomorrow)
Panchala ganesa loomisi
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Ebizo keeps a dragon.
Ichikawa Ebizo XI is a good friend of mine and a great Kabuki actor. He has a big secret. Ebizo keeps a dragon, and the dragon keeps growing.
The revelation came as I was having a conversation with Ebizo for a magazine article in a Tokyo hotel. Out of the blue, Ebizo mentioned in a casual and as-a-matter-of-fact manner that he was keeping a dragon with him.
The story went like this. Some time ago, Ebizo was attending a party. There was an elder man that Ebizo quite respected. When Ebizo looked at the man, there was a large dragon behind. Naturally, Ebizo was quite astonished. The man, looking at Ebizo's countenance, said dryly "Oh, do you see the dragon? It is standing just behind me, isn't it? Where you are looking at now, is the dragon's face. Do you see that? I'll tell you what. Bring a glass jar to this temple in the mountain. Normally, the master priest does not give away dragons to a first comer. But you may be different. He might give you a dragon."
So Ebizo went to this temple in the mountain. The head priest, after looking at Ebizo carefully, finally said that he might take back a dragon in the jar.
So Ebizo took a dragon in a jar back to Tokyo. As time passed, it grew bigger, and it came out of the jar. By the time I met with Ebizo, the dragon had become larger than himself.
As I listened to this story with amazement, Ebizo said to me, "just about where you are looking at right now, should be the dragon's head. Do you see that?"
I could not actually see anything, but I made a ambiguous response, partly to be diplomatic, but partly out of sincerity, as the dragon story made me think deeply.
From the scientific point of view, the whole story should be judged to be a fruit of illusion. A dragon is an imaginary animal. It does not "exist" as a physical entity.
But then there is a rich cultural history, in the far East, regarding the dragon. The dragon is a symbol of inspiration, aspiration, ambition, strength and energy. But tapping into the energy to be extracted from living with the imaginary animal, Ebizo is clearly becoming a larger figure as a Kabuki actor.
Another important point is that Ebizo is doing his day job well. Quite superbly, as a matter of fact. Once on stage, Ebizo's acting as a Kabuki actor is quite intensive, burning with energy, and has the elegance of a wild beast. Nobody questions that.
Some people, when possessed with a vivid imagination, stops functioning in their day jobs. They talk fanciful things, but does nothing. In such a case, the illusion loses its life, and begin to deteriorate.
Ebizo is different. Ebizo does not rely on his dragon. He uses his own body, practices, rehearses, thinks hard, and brings forth a wonderful Kabuki stage, moving the spectators. The dragon is then probably just a symbol of the excellence of Ebizo.
Ebizo keeps a dragon. And then he is a man with a practical sense. Ebizo is embodied. The combination of embodied practicality and the vivid imagination of a dragon is the chemistry behind the phenomenal great acting.
Ichikawa Ebizo.
The revelation came as I was having a conversation with Ebizo for a magazine article in a Tokyo hotel. Out of the blue, Ebizo mentioned in a casual and as-a-matter-of-fact manner that he was keeping a dragon with him.
The story went like this. Some time ago, Ebizo was attending a party. There was an elder man that Ebizo quite respected. When Ebizo looked at the man, there was a large dragon behind. Naturally, Ebizo was quite astonished. The man, looking at Ebizo's countenance, said dryly "Oh, do you see the dragon? It is standing just behind me, isn't it? Where you are looking at now, is the dragon's face. Do you see that? I'll tell you what. Bring a glass jar to this temple in the mountain. Normally, the master priest does not give away dragons to a first comer. But you may be different. He might give you a dragon."
So Ebizo went to this temple in the mountain. The head priest, after looking at Ebizo carefully, finally said that he might take back a dragon in the jar.
So Ebizo took a dragon in a jar back to Tokyo. As time passed, it grew bigger, and it came out of the jar. By the time I met with Ebizo, the dragon had become larger than himself.
As I listened to this story with amazement, Ebizo said to me, "just about where you are looking at right now, should be the dragon's head. Do you see that?"
I could not actually see anything, but I made a ambiguous response, partly to be diplomatic, but partly out of sincerity, as the dragon story made me think deeply.
From the scientific point of view, the whole story should be judged to be a fruit of illusion. A dragon is an imaginary animal. It does not "exist" as a physical entity.
But then there is a rich cultural history, in the far East, regarding the dragon. The dragon is a symbol of inspiration, aspiration, ambition, strength and energy. But tapping into the energy to be extracted from living with the imaginary animal, Ebizo is clearly becoming a larger figure as a Kabuki actor.
Another important point is that Ebizo is doing his day job well. Quite superbly, as a matter of fact. Once on stage, Ebizo's acting as a Kabuki actor is quite intensive, burning with energy, and has the elegance of a wild beast. Nobody questions that.
Some people, when possessed with a vivid imagination, stops functioning in their day jobs. They talk fanciful things, but does nothing. In such a case, the illusion loses its life, and begin to deteriorate.
Ebizo is different. Ebizo does not rely on his dragon. He uses his own body, practices, rehearses, thinks hard, and brings forth a wonderful Kabuki stage, moving the spectators. The dragon is then probably just a symbol of the excellence of Ebizo.
Ebizo keeps a dragon. And then he is a man with a practical sense. Ebizo is embodied. The combination of embodied practicality and the vivid imagination of a dragon is the chemistry behind the phenomenal great acting.
Ichikawa Ebizo.
Monday, August 09, 2010
I would not have been born.
My mother is originally from the southern island of Kyushu. She was born in 1936.
On August 9th, 1945, at the age of 8, she was in the city of Kokura. On that fateful day, a B-29 carrying the "Fat Man" atomic bomb flew to Kokura. As there were too many clouds over Kokura, they turned the bomber to Nagasaki instead, which was designated as the second target. At 11:02 a.m., the bomb was dropped to the city of Nagasaki, killings tens of thousands of people. Many of the victims were innocent civilians, including many children, just like my mother.
If the clouds were less dense on that day over Kokura, my mother would have been victim to the cruel bomb. She would have not grown up to meet my father and marry. I would not have been born.
On August 9th, 1945, at the age of 8, she was in the city of Kokura. On that fateful day, a B-29 carrying the "Fat Man" atomic bomb flew to Kokura. As there were too many clouds over Kokura, they turned the bomber to Nagasaki instead, which was designated as the second target. At 11:02 a.m., the bomb was dropped to the city of Nagasaki, killings tens of thousands of people. Many of the victims were innocent civilians, including many children, just like my mother.
If the clouds were less dense on that day over Kokura, my mother would have been victim to the cruel bomb. She would have not grown up to meet my father and marry. I would not have been born.
Sunday, August 08, 2010
First love
I think my first love "happened" to me when I went to my mother's hometown in Kyushu at the age of 5.
One of my mother's sisters was married to a farmer with a whole mountain behind the house. They held a bon-odori (summer dancing) event in the spacious garden.
There was a girl in yukata dress. She was my first love. There was something definitely elegant and beautiful about her whole demeanor. I did not know what her name was, nor where she came from. Her impression remains vivid to this day.
One of my mother's sisters was married to a farmer with a whole mountain behind the house. They held a bon-odori (summer dancing) event in the spacious garden.
There was a girl in yukata dress. She was my first love. There was something definitely elegant and beautiful about her whole demeanor. I did not know what her name was, nor where she came from. Her impression remains vivid to this day.
Saturday, August 07, 2010
The darkness itself.
(Continued from yesterday's entry "The firefly night")
My sister and I wandered around in the night, sometimes hand in hand. My mother dragged behind, somewhat breathlessly, as I and my sister were walking fast.
It was quite a while before we could get any signs of fireflies. Suddenly, there was a cry. "Look, there goes the firefly!" We dashed on, but could not really observe the light hindered by the walls of people's backs.
Then a little boy came along, with an insect cage hanging from his hand. Lights could be seen going on and off in it. There were fireflies! "Where did you capture these things?" My mother ventured to ask. "Just there, over in the forest!" The boy's caretaker answered.
"Into the forest!" I cried, and I went off in that direction, with the equally excited sister. We looked around and around, but there were no signs of fireflies. Perhaps the had all gone to bed by now.
But then, as if in a miracle, there, in the grass near a big tree, was a flickering and vibrant light. We found the firefly! We made the encounter at last!
Strangely, by this time, the zeal to capture the insect and take it home was gone. I and sister lingered on to watch the fireflies without bothering to capture them. The night breeze was cool and pleasant. And then, gradually, we made friends with the darkness itself. The fireflies did not matter any more.
In a tranquil mood, we went home and slept.
My sister and I wandered around in the night, sometimes hand in hand. My mother dragged behind, somewhat breathlessly, as I and my sister were walking fast.
It was quite a while before we could get any signs of fireflies. Suddenly, there was a cry. "Look, there goes the firefly!" We dashed on, but could not really observe the light hindered by the walls of people's backs.
Then a little boy came along, with an insect cage hanging from his hand. Lights could be seen going on and off in it. There were fireflies! "Where did you capture these things?" My mother ventured to ask. "Just there, over in the forest!" The boy's caretaker answered.
"Into the forest!" I cried, and I went off in that direction, with the equally excited sister. We looked around and around, but there were no signs of fireflies. Perhaps the had all gone to bed by now.
But then, as if in a miracle, there, in the grass near a big tree, was a flickering and vibrant light. We found the firefly! We made the encounter at last!
Strangely, by this time, the zeal to capture the insect and take it home was gone. I and sister lingered on to watch the fireflies without bothering to capture them. The night breeze was cool and pleasant. And then, gradually, we made friends with the darkness itself. The fireflies did not matter any more.
In a tranquil mood, we went home and slept.
Friday, August 06, 2010
The firefly night.
When I was about 10 years old, there was an announcement in the local newspaper that a "firefly night" would be held in a nearby park. Thousands of fireflies would be released in the park for the public to enjoy, the article claimed.
The park, spacious but devoid of any clean running water, was not naturally a habitat of the light-emitting insects. The event was clearly meant to be one-off, with the fireflies brought in from somewhere else, either captivated in the wild or artificially nurtured.
In the contemporary atmosphere ever-conscious of animal welfare and environmental concerns, such an event would raise the eyebrows of many. At that time, however, thirty-something years ago, nobody seemed to have any objections. The fireflies might eventually perish in a foreign environment, but the joy that these insects give, no matter how temporary, was thought to justify the whole fuss (and mess for the insects).
I got all excited to read the article, and asked my mother to take me to the park. We had to ride the train to reach there. I took my small sister, equipped with insect net and cage. When we arrived at the station, there were already lots of kids with eager eyes. They had only one thing in mind. To see a firefly, and, if possible, to capture it to take home.
From the newspaper article, I had a vivid imagination of light points moving here and there in the dark, overwhelming the vision. The reality turned out to be more mundane. Perhaps the numbers were correct. However, averaged over the spaciousness of the designated park, the number of fireflies per unit area turned out to be disappointingly low.
"There are no fireflies," exclaimed my sister. "I would like to go home," she begun to wail. Perhaps the darkness frightened her. I did not want to go home in a hurry, so I kept saying "the fireflies would be in that direction", and continued to move around in the dark forest.
(This story is to be continued)
The park, spacious but devoid of any clean running water, was not naturally a habitat of the light-emitting insects. The event was clearly meant to be one-off, with the fireflies brought in from somewhere else, either captivated in the wild or artificially nurtured.
In the contemporary atmosphere ever-conscious of animal welfare and environmental concerns, such an event would raise the eyebrows of many. At that time, however, thirty-something years ago, nobody seemed to have any objections. The fireflies might eventually perish in a foreign environment, but the joy that these insects give, no matter how temporary, was thought to justify the whole fuss (and mess for the insects).
I got all excited to read the article, and asked my mother to take me to the park. We had to ride the train to reach there. I took my small sister, equipped with insect net and cage. When we arrived at the station, there were already lots of kids with eager eyes. They had only one thing in mind. To see a firefly, and, if possible, to capture it to take home.
From the newspaper article, I had a vivid imagination of light points moving here and there in the dark, overwhelming the vision. The reality turned out to be more mundane. Perhaps the numbers were correct. However, averaged over the spaciousness of the designated park, the number of fireflies per unit area turned out to be disappointingly low.
"There are no fireflies," exclaimed my sister. "I would like to go home," she begun to wail. Perhaps the darkness frightened her. I did not want to go home in a hurry, so I kept saying "the fireflies would be in that direction", and continued to move around in the dark forest.
(This story is to be continued)
Thursday, August 05, 2010
The beauty of butterfly watching
When I go for jogging in the park forest nearby, I am always watching out for butterflies. They are lovely creatures. I used to try to catch them when I was a child, but nowadays I just observe their behavior.
The most interesting feature of behavior to watch is the route that they take. The butterfly flight paths should be in principle chosen carefully for the survival value (i.e., in search of nectar, possible mates, and avoiding predators), and yet are full of rapid turns and apparently whimsical perturbations at the same time.
The beauty of butterfly watching is that you never know when and from where they are coming. Every corner of your vision becomes a potential route of entry for the airborne creature. By waiting for the butterflies, your sensitivities are kept alive and vibrant.
Yesterday, I was lucky to observe a beautiful specimen of Great Mormon (Papilio memnon Linnaeus). This magnificent butterfly used to be more southern bound. Probably due to the effects of global warming, we can now observe Great Mormons in Tokyo, too.
Thus, while jogging among the greens, I can sometimes encounter a messenger from the south.
A Great Mormon.
The most interesting feature of behavior to watch is the route that they take. The butterfly flight paths should be in principle chosen carefully for the survival value (i.e., in search of nectar, possible mates, and avoiding predators), and yet are full of rapid turns and apparently whimsical perturbations at the same time.
The beauty of butterfly watching is that you never know when and from where they are coming. Every corner of your vision becomes a potential route of entry for the airborne creature. By waiting for the butterflies, your sensitivities are kept alive and vibrant.
Yesterday, I was lucky to observe a beautiful specimen of Great Mormon (Papilio memnon Linnaeus). This magnificent butterfly used to be more southern bound. Probably due to the effects of global warming, we can now observe Great Mormons in Tokyo, too.
Thus, while jogging among the greens, I can sometimes encounter a messenger from the south.
A Great Mormon.
Wednesday, August 04, 2010
Every child is born into a system of language.
Every child is born into a system of language. I was born into the universe of Japanese, spoken by 130 million people but virtually confined to the island nation.
English came as a second language. Nowadays I use it constantly in my professional and private lives. As a non-native speaker I still have difficulties handling things.
Fortunately the situations are improving. I feel more and more confident and find tremendous joys in going over national borders and getting connected with people on the globe via the lingua franca. Having said that, the fact that English came to me as a second language has been a source of tremendous hardships in my life.
If only English was my native language. Such wishful thinking sometimes do come to me. On the other hand, there must be some advantages of being born into a minority language. I am yet to find the specific blessing. Maybe the point is too subtle to be made in a short period.
At the least, because of the difficulties experienced, I am set out to do a particular kind of soul searching. Hopefully I stumble upon some valuable truth one day because of this wandering around.
English came as a second language. Nowadays I use it constantly in my professional and private lives. As a non-native speaker I still have difficulties handling things.
Fortunately the situations are improving. I feel more and more confident and find tremendous joys in going over national borders and getting connected with people on the globe via the lingua franca. Having said that, the fact that English came to me as a second language has been a source of tremendous hardships in my life.
If only English was my native language. Such wishful thinking sometimes do come to me. On the other hand, there must be some advantages of being born into a minority language. I am yet to find the specific blessing. Maybe the point is too subtle to be made in a short period.
At the least, because of the difficulties experienced, I am set out to do a particular kind of soul searching. Hopefully I stumble upon some valuable truth one day because of this wandering around.
Tuesday, August 03, 2010
Being in a hot air.
So I am back in Tokyo, back into the heat and humidity. When at home, I do not use the air conditioner, as I don't like the artificial atmosphere. The occasional breeze from the window is just fine for me.
Consequently, when I go out, I enjoy the cool air on the train, in the buildings. A tremendous motivation for me to go out!
The reason why I am resistant to heat can probably be sought back to the days when I was chasing butterflies in the field as a child. Butterflies love fine weather, and they roam around when it is hot. I associate good old memories with the state of being in a hot air.
Having said that, today's heat in Tokyo is probably a little bit too much even for me. Good thing that I will be going out soon.
Consequently, when I go out, I enjoy the cool air on the train, in the buildings. A tremendous motivation for me to go out!
The reason why I am resistant to heat can probably be sought back to the days when I was chasing butterflies in the field as a child. Butterflies love fine weather, and they roam around when it is hot. I associate good old memories with the state of being in a hot air.
Having said that, today's heat in Tokyo is probably a little bit too much even for me. Good thing that I will be going out soon.
Monday, August 02, 2010
East of Eden.
On the plane back to Tokyo (JL001), I watched the film "East of Eden". I think I had seen this masterpiece directed by Elia Kazan a few times, in the days of my naive and callow twenties. The memory of the famous theme music, which is very easy to capture and remember, did not need any refreshing. On the other hand, I realized that I had forgotten most of the details of the film synopsis. The lettuce and beans, for example.
As I watched on, I was emotionally gripped. The story of rivalry between the twin brothers Cal (played superbly by James Dean) and Aron invoked a strange wave of resonance in my heart. The undertone of a possible romantic triangular relations between the twin brothers and Abra (played impressively by Julie Harris) added an atmosphere of tension.
The final scene of reconciliation between the father and son was moving because of the subtle chemistry portrayed. The presence of the ever annoying nurse added a strangely effective spice to the whole thing, which might have been otherwise too sweet. The chasm of misunderstandings and miscommunications finally melted like a snowflake touched by the warmth of the human skin.
Before I knew it, tears welled in my eyes. In order to hide my face from the flight attendants, I raised my right arm to the level of my ear, pretending I was stretching my body after a long flight.
East of Eden.
As I watched on, I was emotionally gripped. The story of rivalry between the twin brothers Cal (played superbly by James Dean) and Aron invoked a strange wave of resonance in my heart. The undertone of a possible romantic triangular relations between the twin brothers and Abra (played impressively by Julie Harris) added an atmosphere of tension.
The final scene of reconciliation between the father and son was moving because of the subtle chemistry portrayed. The presence of the ever annoying nurse added a strangely effective spice to the whole thing, which might have been otherwise too sweet. The chasm of misunderstandings and miscommunications finally melted like a snowflake touched by the warmth of the human skin.
Before I knew it, tears welled in my eyes. In order to hide my face from the flight attendants, I raised my right arm to the level of my ear, pretending I was stretching my body after a long flight.
East of Eden.
Sunday, August 01, 2010
2nd day at the Science Foo camp.
2nd day at the Science Foo camp on the Googleplex. Discussions begin in earnest. The sessions are self-organized, scribed down on large post-its on a large schedule board. I chose to attend the Evolution of beauty, Lightening talks (II), Minds, brains and children, Embracing uncertainty, Aliens and search for life 2.0., Death of old media & the birth of new democracy, and Future of authors sessions.
I met quite a few interesting people. E.g., Jaron Lanier and John Brockman.
I just love the atmosphere of free concepts exchange and jazzy dance together of minds. During the sessions, I always made a point of speaking out. But since the exchange of vocalized opinions are so continuous and never-breaking, my own music of thought needed to be precisely timed and had to be explosive when successfully inserted.
I thank the organizers and participants for the awesomeness of the whole thing.
I met quite a few interesting people. E.g., Jaron Lanier and John Brockman.
I just love the atmosphere of free concepts exchange and jazzy dance together of minds. During the sessions, I always made a point of speaking out. But since the exchange of vocalized opinions are so continuous and never-breaking, my own music of thought needed to be precisely timed and had to be explosive when successfully inserted.
I thank the organizers and participants for the awesomeness of the whole thing.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Scince Foo Camp opening.
First day of Science Foo camp 2010 at Google campus.
It was my first visit to the Googleplex. Impressive. The atmosphere of playfulness and serious concentration was resonating and just fine for me.
We registered at building 40. Lots of interesting people around me. We got out badges, souvenior paper weight with 3D laser sculpture. (Mine was the fractal Julia set. Others were DNA structure and geomagnetic field. Cool.)
With a glass of wine in hand, I took a brief stroll in the campus. Four men were playing beach volleyball. There was a whole T. Rex skeleton, with birds sticking out of here and there. There were posters recruiting people for film gatherings and table tennis tournament. The dress code seemed to be "google casual."
In the opening session, we introduced ourselves each briefly with three key words. Daniel Kahneman was there. Larry Page said hello to the participants. The organizers from Google, Nature, and O'Reilly made interesting opening remarks. How stimulating the whole thing is!
It was my first visit to the Googleplex. Impressive. The atmosphere of playfulness and serious concentration was resonating and just fine for me.
We registered at building 40. Lots of interesting people around me. We got out badges, souvenior paper weight with 3D laser sculpture. (Mine was the fractal Julia set. Others were DNA structure and geomagnetic field. Cool.)
With a glass of wine in hand, I took a brief stroll in the campus. Four men were playing beach volleyball. There was a whole T. Rex skeleton, with birds sticking out of here and there. There were posters recruiting people for film gatherings and table tennis tournament. The dress code seemed to be "google casual."
In the opening session, we introduced ourselves each briefly with three key words. Daniel Kahneman was there. Larry Page said hello to the participants. The organizers from Google, Nature, and O'Reilly made interesting opening remarks. How stimulating the whole thing is!
This taxi driver has developed a cognitive filtering machine.
So here I am in Sunnyvale, California. It is 2:42 p.m. local time. In the evening, I will be attending the Science Foo Camp sponsored by Google and Nature. After I am done with this blogging, I will most probably take a nap, as I could not get adequate sleep on the plane.
I originally thought of hiring a car, but then judged it was probably too much trouble. Therefore I took a cab instead. I always enjoy conversation with the driver.
We were discussing the high tech devises on the car. The driver pointed to a camera and said it captured 8 hours of video, looping. "Do you get any strange customers?" I asked. "Yes", the driver said. "Especially at night. You know when people are loaded, when they are drunk, they sometimes behave strangely. But you can tell pretty well whether a guy is going to behave strangely when he is standing on the road." "Really?" "Oh, yeah. When a guy is waving his hand like that, or is standing in the middle of road, you can pretty well tell that he is going to make trouble. I just pass by them."
So it appears that this taxi driver has developed a cognitive filtering machine, telling potentially troublesome customers beforehand. A good adaptation. I am curious about the specific details for classification, though.
I originally thought of hiring a car, but then judged it was probably too much trouble. Therefore I took a cab instead. I always enjoy conversation with the driver.
We were discussing the high tech devises on the car. The driver pointed to a camera and said it captured 8 hours of video, looping. "Do you get any strange customers?" I asked. "Yes", the driver said. "Especially at night. You know when people are loaded, when they are drunk, they sometimes behave strangely. But you can tell pretty well whether a guy is going to behave strangely when he is standing on the road." "Really?" "Oh, yeah. When a guy is waving his hand like that, or is standing in the middle of road, you can pretty well tell that he is going to make trouble. I just pass by them."
So it appears that this taxi driver has developed a cognitive filtering machine, telling potentially troublesome customers beforehand. A good adaptation. I am curious about the specific details for classification, though.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Being in a minority position is not without its joys.
Throughout my life, I seem to have been enjoying the status of being a minority.
In the junior high, I used to chase butterflies in the field, and read grown-up's books. That was an attitude not ubiquitous among us brats, so I was always looked at as if observing something strange.
As I grew up, my tastes seemed to be shift into increasingly exotic areas in terms of sensitivity and feelings. I had to hide my true nature from time to time, but then I started to encounter people of my own kind.
I remember quite well the rubbishings and abuses we Mac users used to receive from the majority of people who uses the import from Seattle. They said that Macs are for fun and not for serious business. Corporations and schools matter-of-factly announced that their systems and apps were not compatible with the Mac. What do you care? Many computer viruses also turned out to be Mac-incompatible.
When waiting for the train in a Tokyo subway station, I tend to stand in the corners or at the farthest ends of the platform, away from where most people stay for convenience. For me, being alone seems to be more important than seeking convenience.
And the last straw is the problem of qualia. Many "serious" scientists laugh at it as if it is a pseudo-problem. They tend to maintain that functionalist approaches based on connectionist models are sufficient. Again, what do you care. One cannot change what one believes based on empirical observation and application of pure logic.
Being in a minority position is not without its joy. When you are in the majority, it is not that difficult to find people with whom you can resonate. Being in the minority, friend-making becomes an art in miraculous encounters. For example, if and when you find people who are seriously interested in the problem of qualia, that can give you a joy that lasts all your life.
In the junior high, I used to chase butterflies in the field, and read grown-up's books. That was an attitude not ubiquitous among us brats, so I was always looked at as if observing something strange.
As I grew up, my tastes seemed to be shift into increasingly exotic areas in terms of sensitivity and feelings. I had to hide my true nature from time to time, but then I started to encounter people of my own kind.
I remember quite well the rubbishings and abuses we Mac users used to receive from the majority of people who uses the import from Seattle. They said that Macs are for fun and not for serious business. Corporations and schools matter-of-factly announced that their systems and apps were not compatible with the Mac. What do you care? Many computer viruses also turned out to be Mac-incompatible.
When waiting for the train in a Tokyo subway station, I tend to stand in the corners or at the farthest ends of the platform, away from where most people stay for convenience. For me, being alone seems to be more important than seeking convenience.
And the last straw is the problem of qualia. Many "serious" scientists laugh at it as if it is a pseudo-problem. They tend to maintain that functionalist approaches based on connectionist models are sufficient. Again, what do you care. One cannot change what one believes based on empirical observation and application of pure logic.
Being in a minority position is not without its joy. When you are in the majority, it is not that difficult to find people with whom you can resonate. Being in the minority, friend-making becomes an art in miraculous encounters. For example, if and when you find people who are seriously interested in the problem of qualia, that can give you a joy that lasts all your life.
May Ebizo and Mao live happily ever after.
I attended the wedding party of Ebizo Ichikawa, the young and great Kabuki actor. The Kabuki is a miracle, as it is both popular and artistically very refined. Very few genres of art achieve these often incompatible goals.
Ebizo is a great person. He has the savageness of a beast, as well as a fine-tuned intelligence of a noble man. The lady he chose as his partner, Ms. Mao Kobayashi, is a well known newscaster and a very beautiful lady.
Once on stage, Ebizo can become very furious. He can portray characters very remote from human dimensions. His energy then truly approaches that of a dragon. However, this evening, Ebizo was just a very happy man, grinning all the time. May Ebizo and Mao live happily ever after.
Ebizo and Mao cutting the cake. From asahi.com.
Ebizo is a great person. He has the savageness of a beast, as well as a fine-tuned intelligence of a noble man. The lady he chose as his partner, Ms. Mao Kobayashi, is a well known newscaster and a very beautiful lady.
Once on stage, Ebizo can become very furious. He can portray characters very remote from human dimensions. His energy then truly approaches that of a dragon. However, this evening, Ebizo was just a very happy man, grinning all the time. May Ebizo and Mao live happily ever after.
Ebizo and Mao cutting the cake. From asahi.com.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)