Togetsukyo bridge

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

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

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

Words of passion

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

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

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

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

It has always been a puzzler for me

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There had to be substitutes for the real thing.

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

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

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