When I was a kid, I used to love to eat white thin noodles ( Somen ) in the summer.
After being boiled, the noodles would be put into ice cold water. You pick the noodles with hashi (chopsticks) and put it into a soy source flavored soup.
It used to be that there would be a few colored noodles in one "bouquet" of somen noodles. The noodles would be normally white, but a few would be colored in yellow, red, blue, and green.
Although exactly the same in taste, the colored noodles fascinated me as a kid. When my mother brought a bowl of noodles, I would dash to pick the colored ones, in competition with my sister, who was 2 years younger than me. The height of our competition for the colors was when I was 6 and she was 4. I remember we had several bitter fights, and my mother would complain "what's all this fuss about colors? They are all the same in taste."
We actually knew that.
As years passed, I somehow grew out of the colors. When I was about 9, I remember vividly saying to my sister "you can have all the colored noodles you want." It was a sign of my maturity. It was also an end of my childhood enchantment by the colors.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
And we follow the light.
My native and resident country, Japan is a nation of islands. Going abroad used to and remains to have a special connotation for its inhabitants.
I went abroad for the first time when I was 15. I still remember the shock as the airplane descended to Vancouver international airport. I happened to observe what later turned out to be quite an ordinary residential area by Canadian standards. However, at that time, the spacious greens in which the houses, some of them with pools in the backyard, seemed to be a scene from another planet.
Now, when I travel out of and into the Tokyo International airport, the shocks still persist more or less, albeit in a diminished manner. On the other hand, I seem to begin to discern a more universal and global pattern common to all world regions, no matter how different the languages and habitats might appear on the surface.
As time passes, I seem to be more concerned on what is universally human.
I never took a serious interest in nationalism, or in people who advocate it.
As the shock of differences fade away, the light of universality emerges. And we follow the light.
I went abroad for the first time when I was 15. I still remember the shock as the airplane descended to Vancouver international airport. I happened to observe what later turned out to be quite an ordinary residential area by Canadian standards. However, at that time, the spacious greens in which the houses, some of them with pools in the backyard, seemed to be a scene from another planet.
Now, when I travel out of and into the Tokyo International airport, the shocks still persist more or less, albeit in a diminished manner. On the other hand, I seem to begin to discern a more universal and global pattern common to all world regions, no matter how different the languages and habitats might appear on the surface.
As time passes, I seem to be more concerned on what is universally human.
I never took a serious interest in nationalism, or in people who advocate it.
As the shock of differences fade away, the light of universality emerges. And we follow the light.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Solace to the soul of a nation
Parsifal is the final opera of Richard Wagner. It seems to be a fitting end to the career of a composer who pursued the theme of Erlosung durch Liebe (redemption through love) for life.
It was fitting that my first experience of the Bayreuth festival came to a conclusion on Saturday with the performance of Parsifal, conducted by Daniele Gatti and directed by Stefan Herheim (Bayreuth Festspiele, 15th August 2009).
During the Vorspiel (overture), the stage curtain was already open, and we saw a woman with long blonde hair dressed in white lying on a bed. Apparently she is in death agony. In Sehnsucht (yearning), she calls for her boy child. The boy, not understanding the nature of maternal emotion, refuses to be hugged by her and goes away into the garden with a bough in his hand.
Soon after the boy left, the mother dies. The doctor declares the death, and puts a sheet over her body. They leave the room, and the dead woman sinks into the bed and disappears.
When the boy returns, the room is empty. He looks at the bed where his mother has been lying. Still not comprehending what has been going on, he faces with unconscious misgivings a platform in the front of the stage which turns out to be an alter en effect throughout the performance. He lays bricks there, apparently forming a wall. However, the wall remains incomplete and in translation.
This brief description of what happens, in outline, during the course of the overture would do justice, I think, to the multitudes of possibilities that a stage director can put into a contemporary Wagner performance.
It was a production with a heavy resonance with the sometimes tragic modern history of Germany, with vivid and unforgettable images. The fact that an opera can bring solace to the soul of a nation by facing its history without any self deception is once again a testimony of the forces of a great piece of art.
Image from Parsifal directed by Stefan Herheim from Wagneropra.net
It was fitting that my first experience of the Bayreuth festival came to a conclusion on Saturday with the performance of Parsifal, conducted by Daniele Gatti and directed by Stefan Herheim (Bayreuth Festspiele, 15th August 2009).
During the Vorspiel (overture), the stage curtain was already open, and we saw a woman with long blonde hair dressed in white lying on a bed. Apparently she is in death agony. In Sehnsucht (yearning), she calls for her boy child. The boy, not understanding the nature of maternal emotion, refuses to be hugged by her and goes away into the garden with a bough in his hand.
Soon after the boy left, the mother dies. The doctor declares the death, and puts a sheet over her body. They leave the room, and the dead woman sinks into the bed and disappears.
When the boy returns, the room is empty. He looks at the bed where his mother has been lying. Still not comprehending what has been going on, he faces with unconscious misgivings a platform in the front of the stage which turns out to be an alter en effect throughout the performance. He lays bricks there, apparently forming a wall. However, the wall remains incomplete and in translation.
This brief description of what happens, in outline, during the course of the overture would do justice, I think, to the multitudes of possibilities that a stage director can put into a contemporary Wagner performance.
It was a production with a heavy resonance with the sometimes tragic modern history of Germany, with vivid and unforgettable images. The fact that an opera can bring solace to the soul of a nation by facing its history without any self deception is once again a testimony of the forces of a great piece of art.
Image from Parsifal directed by Stefan Herheim from Wagneropra.net
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Booings and bravos
In order for a work of performing art to be maintained in a living condition, it needs to be refreshed in the styles of times. The concerns close to people's heart, the joys and fears of the common man change with the passage of eras. A presentation of a work, no matter how vivid and appropriate within the context of a particular time, tends to fade away in relevance in the face of a new period.
These were the thoughts invoked as I left the theatre after attending the performance of Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg (Bayreuth Festspiele, on 14th August 2009), conducted by Sebastian Weigle and directed by Katharina Wagner.
Katharina Wagner's Meistersinger premiered in July 2007. It was heavily booed. The fact that people boo certain productions is a testimony that opera is taken very seriously. The production of Der Ring der Nibelungen directed by Patrice Chéreau and conducted by Pierre Boulez, for example, was booed on the first night to such an extent that it became a scandal. The perception of the audience can then go through a dramatic transfiguration. In its final staging in 1980, on the night of Götterdämmerung, Chéreau and Boulez's Ring received 101 curtain calls which lasted for 90 minutes.
It remains to be seen how Katharina's production will be finally received. It is certainly a very interesting production. It is, which is important more than anything else, also very courageous. The fact that the great granddaughter of Richard Wagner is bold enough to try this brand new philosophy of staging is reassuring for the future of the Bayreuth festival.
Katharina herself says thus. “Being booed belongs to the job description of a director.” ( New York times, July 31, 2007)
The progress of the human spirit is a very complex and dynamic process. Booings and bravos are the fuels that propel its procession.
Image from Katharina Wagner's Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg, from Wagneropra.net
These were the thoughts invoked as I left the theatre after attending the performance of Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg (Bayreuth Festspiele, on 14th August 2009), conducted by Sebastian Weigle and directed by Katharina Wagner.
Katharina Wagner's Meistersinger premiered in July 2007. It was heavily booed. The fact that people boo certain productions is a testimony that opera is taken very seriously. The production of Der Ring der Nibelungen directed by Patrice Chéreau and conducted by Pierre Boulez, for example, was booed on the first night to such an extent that it became a scandal. The perception of the audience can then go through a dramatic transfiguration. In its final staging in 1980, on the night of Götterdämmerung, Chéreau and Boulez's Ring received 101 curtain calls which lasted for 90 minutes.
It remains to be seen how Katharina's production will be finally received. It is certainly a very interesting production. It is, which is important more than anything else, also very courageous. The fact that the great granddaughter of Richard Wagner is bold enough to try this brand new philosophy of staging is reassuring for the future of the Bayreuth festival.
Katharina herself says thus. “Being booed belongs to the job description of a director.” ( New York times, July 31, 2007)
The progress of the human spirit is a very complex and dynamic process. Booings and bravos are the fuels that propel its procession.
Image from Katharina Wagner's Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg, from Wagneropra.net
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Eternal solitude
The performance of Tristan und Isolde, conducted by Peter Schneider and directed by Christoph Marthaler (Bayreuth Festspiele, on 13th August 2009), left a very vivid and stinging aftertaste.
At first, during the 1st and 2nd act, the intentions of Marthaler was not apparent to this observer. The singers kept a very detached stature overall. At the end of the 1st act, for example, apprehending the approach of King Marke the four (Tristan, Isolde, Brangane, and Kurwenal) try to compose themselves by sitting stiff in geometrically arranged chairs.
The contrived and restricted manner in which everyone acted transfigured into significant and moving meaning, as, at the end of the 3rd act, after singing the final words assigned to each, first Kurwenal, then Marke, and finally Brangane turned away from the world, standing in an upright position, face to the wall.
Isolde herself, after singing the beautiful Liebestod alone in the bed that Tristan has been lying, finally lies on the bed, covering her body and face with the white sheet.
So the opera ends with people encapsulated in the isolation of each, distanced from other people, no matter dead or alive. And the love itself, glued by the poignant word "und", is emancipated and lost for ever in the ocean of eternal solitude.
Image from the final act of Marthaler's Tristan und Isolde, from
Wagneropra.net
At first, during the 1st and 2nd act, the intentions of Marthaler was not apparent to this observer. The singers kept a very detached stature overall. At the end of the 1st act, for example, apprehending the approach of King Marke the four (Tristan, Isolde, Brangane, and Kurwenal) try to compose themselves by sitting stiff in geometrically arranged chairs.
The contrived and restricted manner in which everyone acted transfigured into significant and moving meaning, as, at the end of the 3rd act, after singing the final words assigned to each, first Kurwenal, then Marke, and finally Brangane turned away from the world, standing in an upright position, face to the wall.
Isolde herself, after singing the beautiful Liebestod alone in the bed that Tristan has been lying, finally lies on the bed, covering her body and face with the white sheet.
So the opera ends with people encapsulated in the isolation of each, distanced from other people, no matter dead or alive. And the love itself, glued by the poignant word "und", is emancipated and lost for ever in the ocean of eternal solitude.
Image from the final act of Marthaler's Tristan und Isolde, from
Wagneropra.net
Friday, August 14, 2009
Tristan und Isolde
On 13th August 2009, I attended a performance at the Bayreuth Festspiele for the first time in my life. It was Tristan und Isolde.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Repetition leads
So I have come to Munich, in translation to Bayreuth.
I have visited Munich many times. Whenever I can, I listen to operas, preferably Wagner, in the National Theatre. Compared to the dense metropolis in other nations, German capitals tend to be more sparsely inhabited, reflecting, perhaps, the character of the German people. Always keeping a proud distance.
Repetition leads to the realization of life's continuity. Visiting a familiar city reminds one of the former times, how you were young, innocent, and ignorant. With age one gets some chunks of wisdom, but the ignorance persists in a different form.
I bought three books on Wagner in the Hauptbahhof. Reading them would give me the much needed opportunity to refresh my German.
Today, I travel to Bayreuth, to meet my long waited fate. I would be listening to Tristan und Isolde. The greatest and most intensely romantic piece of art ever.
I have visited Munich many times. Whenever I can, I listen to operas, preferably Wagner, in the National Theatre. Compared to the dense metropolis in other nations, German capitals tend to be more sparsely inhabited, reflecting, perhaps, the character of the German people. Always keeping a proud distance.
Repetition leads to the realization of life's continuity. Visiting a familiar city reminds one of the former times, how you were young, innocent, and ignorant. With age one gets some chunks of wisdom, but the ignorance persists in a different form.
I bought three books on Wagner in the Hauptbahhof. Reading them would give me the much needed opportunity to refresh my German.
Today, I travel to Bayreuth, to meet my long waited fate. I would be listening to Tristan und Isolde. The greatest and most intensely romantic piece of art ever.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
And there will be life
Lands in Tokyo, like in any cotemporary city of big lights, are heavily utilized. It was a rare occasion that a space near my house, after the demolition of buildings that occupied the land, was left unattended for the summer.
At first, it looked like a barren land. Soon the weeds began to grow. Now, it is like a jungle of miscellaneous vegetations. Flowers bloom here and there. Butterflies and dragonflies take advantage of the sudden growth of wilderness in the busy cityscape by flying over the green extension.
It is a testimony again that nature, when given sufficient space and time, can take care of itself. It does not require an active intervention on the part of humans. Just let nature go its own way, and there will be life.
I suspect that some essential parts of nature are victimized by our shortsighted meddlings. The unconscious is like the nature, and too much interference by the conscious can disrupt its carefree dynamics.
I take the scene of green apparitions that emerged in the rare open land as a testimony of the importance of autonomy, natural and unconscious.
At first, it looked like a barren land. Soon the weeds began to grow. Now, it is like a jungle of miscellaneous vegetations. Flowers bloom here and there. Butterflies and dragonflies take advantage of the sudden growth of wilderness in the busy cityscape by flying over the green extension.
It is a testimony again that nature, when given sufficient space and time, can take care of itself. It does not require an active intervention on the part of humans. Just let nature go its own way, and there will be life.
I suspect that some essential parts of nature are victimized by our shortsighted meddlings. The unconscious is like the nature, and too much interference by the conscious can disrupt its carefree dynamics.
I take the scene of green apparitions that emerged in the rare open land as a testimony of the importance of autonomy, natural and unconscious.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Expectations
This summer, within a few days, I would be traveling to Bayreuth for the first time in my life.
I will be listening to the performances of Tristan und Isolde, Die Meistersinger von Nurnberg, and Parsifal.
Naturally I am filled with great expectations. Wagner was, has been, and is the creative genius of my love, and attending the Bayreuth festival has been one of my dreams.
I am 46 now. To think it took more than 30 years to realize one's wish inspires one with strange emotions.
There are many spiritual creatures lurking in one's expectations. They have their own life forms, timelines for development. Sometimes they bear fruit, and other times perish. To come to something in actuality has nothing to do with the fulfilment of one's expectations. Expectations have their own territory, where Queens and Kings with no parallels in the real world reign in the darkness and mist.
When I am seated in the Festspielhaus in Bayreuth, and the lights go out, as the first notes resound, I will have finally found a restful tomb for all these wonderful creatures that have been lurking in my expectations.
I will be listening to the performances of Tristan und Isolde, Die Meistersinger von Nurnberg, and Parsifal.
Naturally I am filled with great expectations. Wagner was, has been, and is the creative genius of my love, and attending the Bayreuth festival has been one of my dreams.
I am 46 now. To think it took more than 30 years to realize one's wish inspires one with strange emotions.
There are many spiritual creatures lurking in one's expectations. They have their own life forms, timelines for development. Sometimes they bear fruit, and other times perish. To come to something in actuality has nothing to do with the fulfilment of one's expectations. Expectations have their own territory, where Queens and Kings with no parallels in the real world reign in the darkness and mist.
When I am seated in the Festspielhaus in Bayreuth, and the lights go out, as the first notes resound, I will have finally found a restful tomb for all these wonderful creatures that have been lurking in my expectations.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Tears of onceness.
When the onceness of life touches us, tears drop from the eyes.
Yesterday, there was a wedding party. Shinichi Nozawa, a Ph.D student in my laboratory at the Tokyo Institute of Technology, and Emiko Ito, an editor at the publishing house Chikumashobo, were married.
In Japanese wedding festivities, it is customary that the newly-wed couple present flower bouquets to their parents at the end of the party, expressing gratitude.
As the pair approached the parents, they already appeared to be on the verge of crying.
The childhood days when they clung to the knees of their parents. The entrance ceremonies of elementary school. The cherry blossoms. The sports meeting, with parents watching the child run. The graduation of universities. Parents treated by the first salary of life.
All these things, with the inevitable procession of time, surround the couple. Shinichi and Emiko cry. The tears are the crystals of their happiness, the epitome of passage of life.
Here's to the the tears of onceness.
Shinichi and Emiko preparing to present the bouquet.
In Joshui Kaikan party room, Tokyo.
Yesterday, there was a wedding party. Shinichi Nozawa, a Ph.D student in my laboratory at the Tokyo Institute of Technology, and Emiko Ito, an editor at the publishing house Chikumashobo, were married.
In Japanese wedding festivities, it is customary that the newly-wed couple present flower bouquets to their parents at the end of the party, expressing gratitude.
As the pair approached the parents, they already appeared to be on the verge of crying.
The childhood days when they clung to the knees of their parents. The entrance ceremonies of elementary school. The cherry blossoms. The sports meeting, with parents watching the child run. The graduation of universities. Parents treated by the first salary of life.
All these things, with the inevitable procession of time, surround the couple. Shinichi and Emiko cry. The tears are the crystals of their happiness, the epitome of passage of life.
Here's to the the tears of onceness.
Shinichi and Emiko preparing to present the bouquet.
In Joshui Kaikan party room, Tokyo.
Sunday, August 09, 2009
NHK Saga
NHK is the national public broadcasting organization in Japan. I host, with Ms. Miki Sumiyoshi, "The Professionals" program broadcast weekly since January 2006 by NHK.
One of the characters of NHK which is distinguishing compared to the commercial broadcasters is that it has branches in local cities all over Japan. Since broadcasting by NHK has a designated public role, it is expected to cover local issues and news as well as national and global trends.
I have been visiting the city of Saga for the last couple of days, and sure enough, there was a NHK branch in Saga, too.
Interestingly, a NHK branch is usually situated near the Old Castle site. After the Meiji restoration in 1867, the new government buildings were built in or the near the old castle sites, which were considered to be symbols of the "ancien regime". The fact that the NHK branches are usually at the Edo-era castle sites indicates the public nature of NHK. It is part of the institutions of modernized Japan.
I sometimes feel that it is those idiosyncratic and scattered facts about a nation that constitute the implicit experience of living in that country. The location of NHK branches, for example.
NHK Saga building, near the old Saga Castle site.
One of the characters of NHK which is distinguishing compared to the commercial broadcasters is that it has branches in local cities all over Japan. Since broadcasting by NHK has a designated public role, it is expected to cover local issues and news as well as national and global trends.
I have been visiting the city of Saga for the last couple of days, and sure enough, there was a NHK branch in Saga, too.
Interestingly, a NHK branch is usually situated near the Old Castle site. After the Meiji restoration in 1867, the new government buildings were built in or the near the old castle sites, which were considered to be symbols of the "ancien regime". The fact that the NHK branches are usually at the Edo-era castle sites indicates the public nature of NHK. It is part of the institutions of modernized Japan.
I sometimes feel that it is those idiosyncratic and scattered facts about a nation that constitute the implicit experience of living in that country. The location of NHK branches, for example.
NHK Saga building, near the old Saga Castle site.
Saturday, August 08, 2009
Dragon.
I was in the car on the way to the conference site in Saga. We have just been to the old Saga castle site. As we left the Saga Castle History Museum, I noticed that black clouds have gathered in the sky. It was a very hot afternoon. In the newspaper "Saga Shimbun" next morning, it was reported that the temperature reached 37.8 degrees Centigrade, the second highest in recorded history.
In the car, we heard rumbles in the distance. A thunderstorm has come. As I witnessed the first thunderbolt running zigzag in the sky, I suddenly thought of the dragon.
The human brain sometimes plays such funny tricks. I don't know what it was. Maybe it was the intensive hour of being immersed in history in the museum. Perhaps the hot air affected me. I am not sure what combination of elements led to that hallucination, but at that very moment, it seemed so natural to me to associate the thunderbolt with the magnificent existence of the imaginary creature.
The moment was gone quite as rapidly as it came. We arrived at the auditorium, and I was again in the practical world of attending to the tightly made conference schedule.
The dragon had disappeared.
In the car, we heard rumbles in the distance. A thunderstorm has come. As I witnessed the first thunderbolt running zigzag in the sky, I suddenly thought of the dragon.
The human brain sometimes plays such funny tricks. I don't know what it was. Maybe it was the intensive hour of being immersed in history in the museum. Perhaps the hot air affected me. I am not sure what combination of elements led to that hallucination, but at that very moment, it seemed so natural to me to associate the thunderbolt with the magnificent existence of the imaginary creature.
The moment was gone quite as rapidly as it came. We arrived at the auditorium, and I was again in the practical world of attending to the tightly made conference schedule.
The dragon had disappeared.
Friday, August 07, 2009
El Sur
"El Sur" by the Spanish director Victor Erice is one of my all-time favorite films. In it, el sur ("the south") is depicted as an attractive and mysterious land. In the film, there is a special connotation about the south, as the father of the girl appears to have a mistress in that far-off land.
The film ends as the girl prepares herself for her very first trip to the south, where, hopefully, she would find out her father's secret life.
There is something about the south that is life invigorating. Those were the thoughts as airplane flew southwards from Tokyo, and landed on Saga airport.
I have come to attend a two day session which I chair.
The sunshine on my mother's native island of Kyushu was mild and serene.
The film ends as the girl prepares herself for her very first trip to the south, where, hopefully, she would find out her father's secret life.
There is something about the south that is life invigorating. Those were the thoughts as airplane flew southwards from Tokyo, and landed on Saga airport.
I have come to attend a two day session which I chair.
The sunshine on my mother's native island of Kyushu was mild and serene.
Thursday, August 06, 2009
Namelessness
Some days ago, I went to the Nasu district, where the Nasu Imperial Villa is located. It is a favorite summer retreat for the Japanese, as due to the altitude the air is cooler. We had quite interesting discussions on creativity in the beautiful Niki club resort.
On the way back in the Tohoku Shinkansen train, I passed by the rice fields of northern Kanto plane. Although the train was running with the speed of 275 kilometers per hour, I could still see how beautiful the scenery was. Those little houses with red roofs and well-maintained trees in the garden, scattered here and there in the rice field.
Compared to the famous tourist destinations, these places are unknown. They remain nameless for the incidental traveler. But how beautiful and attractive these places appear to this soul.
In the 2nd act of Tristan und Isolde, the pair sings rapturously:
So starben wir,
um ungetrennt,
ewig einig,
ohne End’,
ohn’ Erwachen,
ohn’ Erbangen,
namenlos in Lieb’ umfangen,
ganz uns selbst gegeben,
der Liebe nur zu leben!
Thus might we die,
that together,
ever one,
without end,
never waking,
never fearing,
namelessly
enveloped in love,
given up to each other,
to live only for love!
Blessed are those who are wise enough to appreciate the sublime joy of namelessness.
Scenery observed from the Shinkansen train south of the Nasushiobara station.
On the way back in the Tohoku Shinkansen train, I passed by the rice fields of northern Kanto plane. Although the train was running with the speed of 275 kilometers per hour, I could still see how beautiful the scenery was. Those little houses with red roofs and well-maintained trees in the garden, scattered here and there in the rice field.
Compared to the famous tourist destinations, these places are unknown. They remain nameless for the incidental traveler. But how beautiful and attractive these places appear to this soul.
In the 2nd act of Tristan und Isolde, the pair sings rapturously:
So starben wir,
um ungetrennt,
ewig einig,
ohne End’,
ohn’ Erwachen,
ohn’ Erbangen,
namenlos in Lieb’ umfangen,
ganz uns selbst gegeben,
der Liebe nur zu leben!
Thus might we die,
that together,
ever one,
without end,
never waking,
never fearing,
namelessly
enveloped in love,
given up to each other,
to live only for love!
Blessed are those who are wise enough to appreciate the sublime joy of namelessness.
Scenery observed from the Shinkansen train south of the Nasushiobara station.
Wednesday, August 05, 2009
Sun, moon, mountains and water
Boybu (wind wall) is a typical Japanese style of art, and many excellent specimens are known. Of them, the Jitsugetsu Sansui-zu Byobu ("Sun, moon, mountains and water") is my favorite.
It depicts the sun, moon, and mountains, with the water expressed as waves surrounding and permeating everything. The waves are drawn in an abstract and conceptualized style, and yet are so alive, vibrating, as if representing the urge for life itself.
The wind wall is in the Kongoji temple in Kawachinagano.
On the 5th of May and 3rd of Novermber each year, the "Sun, moon, mountains and water" wind wall is made open to the public. From time to time, this marvelous painting from the Muromachi period is displayed in art museums.
So far, I have had two opportunities to admire this breathtakingly marvelous piece of art. Standing in front of it, you feel that your life is reinvigorated.
The Wind wall painting "Sun, moon, mountains and water" (Jitsugetsu Sansui-zu Byobu)
It depicts the sun, moon, and mountains, with the water expressed as waves surrounding and permeating everything. The waves are drawn in an abstract and conceptualized style, and yet are so alive, vibrating, as if representing the urge for life itself.
The wind wall is in the Kongoji temple in Kawachinagano.
On the 5th of May and 3rd of Novermber each year, the "Sun, moon, mountains and water" wind wall is made open to the public. From time to time, this marvelous painting from the Muromachi period is displayed in art museums.
So far, I have had two opportunities to admire this breathtakingly marvelous piece of art. Standing in front of it, you feel that your life is reinvigorated.
The Wind wall painting "Sun, moon, mountains and water" (Jitsugetsu Sansui-zu Byobu)
Tuesday, August 04, 2009
Background to Britain
When I was 16, the senior high school teacher gave us a booklet titled "Background to Britain". We were to read it during the summer vacations. Looking back, I think it is fair to say that this small book, written by M. D. Munro Mackenzie & L. J. Westwood, kindled my interest in the English culture.
It was significant that the book was written by two Englishmen with a great care in the selection of materials. For example, the chapter on English weather went thus.
----------
THE WEATHER
'Other countries have a climate; in England we have weather.' This statement, often made by Englishmen to describe the peculiar meteorological conditions of their country, is both revealing and true. It is revealing because in it we see the Englishman insisting once again that what happens in England is not the same as what happens elsewhere: its truth can be ascertained by any foreigner who stays in the country for longer than few days.
In no country other than England, it has been said, can one experience four seasons in the course of a single day! Day may break as a balmy spring morning; an hour or so later black clouds may have appeared from nowhere and the rain may be pouring down. At midday conditions may be really wintry with the temperature down by about fifteen degrees. And then, in the late afternoon the sky will clear, the sun will begin to shine, and for an hour or two before darkness falls, it will be summer.
--------------
I started to learn English at the age of 12, and by the time I encountered this book, I was still in the steep slope of the learning curve (maybe I still am). In any case, it was significant that the prose was beautifully written by two gentlemen with a love for their mother culture, with a well-balanced humor.
In learning a foreign language, it is important to choose the study material carefully. Language is like music. Some texts are well-written, with aesthetically satisfying results. Some study materials are unnatural and contrived, being specifically written for someone with limited vocabulary. While those artificially written specimen of a foreign language is surely well meaning, they somehow destroy the aesthetics of the learner.
It was fortunate that, some 3-4 years after I started to learn English, I encountered this beautiful text. I still regard this small booklet as a gemstone in the learning steps of my humble life.
>
The "Background to Britain" book I read during one senior high school summer vacation.
It was significant that the book was written by two Englishmen with a great care in the selection of materials. For example, the chapter on English weather went thus.
----------
THE WEATHER
'Other countries have a climate; in England we have weather.' This statement, often made by Englishmen to describe the peculiar meteorological conditions of their country, is both revealing and true. It is revealing because in it we see the Englishman insisting once again that what happens in England is not the same as what happens elsewhere: its truth can be ascertained by any foreigner who stays in the country for longer than few days.
In no country other than England, it has been said, can one experience four seasons in the course of a single day! Day may break as a balmy spring morning; an hour or so later black clouds may have appeared from nowhere and the rain may be pouring down. At midday conditions may be really wintry with the temperature down by about fifteen degrees. And then, in the late afternoon the sky will clear, the sun will begin to shine, and for an hour or two before darkness falls, it will be summer.
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I started to learn English at the age of 12, and by the time I encountered this book, I was still in the steep slope of the learning curve (maybe I still am). In any case, it was significant that the prose was beautifully written by two gentlemen with a love for their mother culture, with a well-balanced humor.
In learning a foreign language, it is important to choose the study material carefully. Language is like music. Some texts are well-written, with aesthetically satisfying results. Some study materials are unnatural and contrived, being specifically written for someone with limited vocabulary. While those artificially written specimen of a foreign language is surely well meaning, they somehow destroy the aesthetics of the learner.
It was fortunate that, some 3-4 years after I started to learn English, I encountered this beautiful text. I still regard this small booklet as a gemstone in the learning steps of my humble life.
>The "Background to Britain" book I read during one senior high school summer vacation.
Monday, August 03, 2009
Youtube
Several days I go, I made a comment on the internet service twitter. Since then, some people have told me their opinions about twitter, as I encountered them in my course of life in Tokyo. It is always interesting to exchange ideas, in person especially, about what is currently hot.
Here I find myself writing about youtube. I have only words of praise for youtube. I confess to be a heavy user of youtube. When I am on the road in the hotel room, I tend to spend the last few minutes of the evening searching for interesting videos in youtube. Most of the time, I would watch my favorite British comedies. At other times, I would listen to my favorite music, classical or otherwise. When I am really in the mood, I might listen to lectures by intellectuals, like those provided by authors@google.
There are many wonderful things about youtube, but more than anything, I admire their slogan "Broadcast Yourself". A significant portion of the traffic might be earned by commercially produced works, but that is not, conceptually speaking, the point. The emphasis is on people in many countries, whether young or old, rich or poor, educated or tabula rasa, who have obtained a means of literally "broadcasting yourself" through youtube. The slogan, incidentally, is wide enough to include those who are professionals producing commercially supported and distributed works. The slogan "Broadcast Yourself", in a nutshell, is very well conceived indeed.
It is my opinion that the various services provided on the internet compete not only in terms of technical excellence and band width. They compete on the basis of the brilliance of philosophy that is behind the service provided. Youtube is an excellent example of "philosophy in bits".
Here I find myself writing about youtube. I have only words of praise for youtube. I confess to be a heavy user of youtube. When I am on the road in the hotel room, I tend to spend the last few minutes of the evening searching for interesting videos in youtube. Most of the time, I would watch my favorite British comedies. At other times, I would listen to my favorite music, classical or otherwise. When I am really in the mood, I might listen to lectures by intellectuals, like those provided by authors@google.
There are many wonderful things about youtube, but more than anything, I admire their slogan "Broadcast Yourself". A significant portion of the traffic might be earned by commercially produced works, but that is not, conceptually speaking, the point. The emphasis is on people in many countries, whether young or old, rich or poor, educated or tabula rasa, who have obtained a means of literally "broadcasting yourself" through youtube. The slogan, incidentally, is wide enough to include those who are professionals producing commercially supported and distributed works. The slogan "Broadcast Yourself", in a nutshell, is very well conceived indeed.
It is my opinion that the various services provided on the internet compete not only in terms of technical excellence and band width. They compete on the basis of the brilliance of philosophy that is behind the service provided. Youtube is an excellent example of "philosophy in bits".
Sunday, August 02, 2009
Boy spirits
I chatted with my best friend Takashi Ikegami in the Omotesando area in Tokyo. The dialogue was held for the philosophy and poetry magazine "Eureka" published by Seidosha.
For an hour and half, we discussed how as children we both were fascinated by the insects. The endless hours we spend searching for rare species in the field, the touch of beetles at our fingertips on the dimly lit forest floor.
Sitting face to face with Takashi, I had this strange feeling that we were still elementary school boys, meeting in the classroom after the summer vacation, exchanging and sharing the experiences of each during the long holidays.
In life, the boy spirits keep carrying us through the stages, the ascents and descents. Sprinkles and sparkles of the boy spirit surrounded two lonely souls on a summer morning in Tokyo.
Takashi Ikegami in his room at the University
For an hour and half, we discussed how as children we both were fascinated by the insects. The endless hours we spend searching for rare species in the field, the touch of beetles at our fingertips on the dimly lit forest floor.
Sitting face to face with Takashi, I had this strange feeling that we were still elementary school boys, meeting in the classroom after the summer vacation, exchanging and sharing the experiences of each during the long holidays.
In life, the boy spirits keep carrying us through the stages, the ascents and descents. Sprinkles and sparkles of the boy spirit surrounded two lonely souls on a summer morning in Tokyo.
Takashi Ikegami in his room at the University
Saturday, August 01, 2009
The contingent self.
The human bran is attracted to contingencies, the mixture of regular and random things. Contingencies are concerned with the border between the self and non-self. Things about the self are in general predictable, whereas actions and events arising from the non-self are largely unpredictable.
There is, however, an important amendment due to the above statement. The dynamics of the unconscious contain surprises and inconsistencies from the point of view of the conscious mind, as historically demonstrated by Sigmund Freud. One cannot control one's dreams or hidden and often suppressed desires. Thus, due to the existence of those irregular elements, the core of the self is rich in contingencies.
That is why one keeps being attracted to the self. If everything about the self is predictable, it is not very fun any more. The very fact that some part of the "I" is unpredictable makes being the contingent self so interesting.
There is, however, an important amendment due to the above statement. The dynamics of the unconscious contain surprises and inconsistencies from the point of view of the conscious mind, as historically demonstrated by Sigmund Freud. One cannot control one's dreams or hidden and often suppressed desires. Thus, due to the existence of those irregular elements, the core of the self is rich in contingencies.
That is why one keeps being attracted to the self. If everything about the self is predictable, it is not very fun any more. The very fact that some part of the "I" is unpredictable makes being the contingent self so interesting.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Perception of one's own action
One of the apparent functions of the perception of one's will is to make one's own action predictable by the self. By the cognition of the fact one is about to conduct an action, one is able to prepare oneself for the likely outcomes of that particular action.
For example, if, on a hot summer evening, one wills that he opens a can of beer, he can fairly well predict a series of sensations that follow. The feeling of the tab being pulled away, the sound of micro-bubbles forming in the can, the first taste of the desirable drink on one's lips and tongues, the flowing of the cold liquid down the throat. With appropriate predictions, these sensations can give one a great pleasure, as this writer is very well aware.
Without prediction, however, the same series of sensations can be a source of anxiety and horror. Imagine, without you knowing it, somebody abruptly puts some beer into your mouth. Shock and panic would be your reaction, rather than the harmonious joy that would follow the perceived action of drinking.
Thus, the perception of one's own action contributes to the stability of processing of sensations that follow. Every perception is conducted within a context. The perception of one's own action prepares the particular contexts.
For example, if, on a hot summer evening, one wills that he opens a can of beer, he can fairly well predict a series of sensations that follow. The feeling of the tab being pulled away, the sound of micro-bubbles forming in the can, the first taste of the desirable drink on one's lips and tongues, the flowing of the cold liquid down the throat. With appropriate predictions, these sensations can give one a great pleasure, as this writer is very well aware.
Without prediction, however, the same series of sensations can be a source of anxiety and horror. Imagine, without you knowing it, somebody abruptly puts some beer into your mouth. Shock and panic would be your reaction, rather than the harmonious joy that would follow the perceived action of drinking.
Thus, the perception of one's own action contributes to the stability of processing of sensations that follow. Every perception is conducted within a context. The perception of one's own action prepares the particular contexts.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Butterfly time
As I have repeatedly written in this space, I used to collect and study butterflies quite seriously when I was a kid. It meant that I had to wait for the emergence of these rare species that I was after in the forest and the fields, often for hours, sometimes even for days.
There was a special quality in the time spent waiting for the butterflies. Butterflies could pop into view from any directions in the space around you. Once an interesting butterfly has appeared, you had to react very quickly, as otherwise the species might disappear. The combination of a long wait and a quick response characterized my butterfly time.
The human brain, once it learned something from a particular experience, can apply the resulting circuit to many other things. Today, after having ceased the active chasing of butterflies, I sometimes feel that I am still waiting for rare species. The butterflies have turned into concepts, new ideas, interesting people, beautiful cultural artifacts. The butterfly time in my childhood has fine-tuned my sensitivities for the abruptly emerging things, preparing my body and mind for a quick reaction.
There was a special quality in the time spent waiting for the butterflies. Butterflies could pop into view from any directions in the space around you. Once an interesting butterfly has appeared, you had to react very quickly, as otherwise the species might disappear. The combination of a long wait and a quick response characterized my butterfly time.
The human brain, once it learned something from a particular experience, can apply the resulting circuit to many other things. Today, after having ceased the active chasing of butterflies, I sometimes feel that I am still waiting for rare species. The butterflies have turned into concepts, new ideas, interesting people, beautiful cultural artifacts. The butterfly time in my childhood has fine-tuned my sensitivities for the abruptly emerging things, preparing my body and mind for a quick reaction.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Civilization
Civilizations come in many forms.
I traveled to the Island of Bali in February. On the last evening of my stay, there was a Legong dance show at the hotel.
The stage was set in the darkness of the garden. Two girl dancers floated in the dimly lit platform, moving their feet and hands elegantly to the Gamelan music, oblivious of the ups and downs of the outside world.
At that moment, I was convinced that the dancing girls were at the center of a civilization. Efforts and aesthetics were put into that core, enriching the tradition, bringing growing, glowing, enchanting, fascinating, enlightening things to those who were fortunate enough to be involved.
That vivid sense of the reality of a beautiful civilization never left me, and it is with me today.
I traveled to the Island of Bali in February. On the last evening of my stay, there was a Legong dance show at the hotel.
The stage was set in the darkness of the garden. Two girl dancers floated in the dimly lit platform, moving their feet and hands elegantly to the Gamelan music, oblivious of the ups and downs of the outside world.
At that moment, I was convinced that the dancing girls were at the center of a civilization. Efforts and aesthetics were put into that core, enriching the tradition, bringing growing, glowing, enchanting, fascinating, enlightening things to those who were fortunate enough to be involved.
That vivid sense of the reality of a beautiful civilization never left me, and it is with me today.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
I have been keeping the Japanese blog more or less regularly since 12 December, 1999. My webpage The Qualia Manifesto was initiated on 26th November, 1998.
I think I have been an experimenter of various media offered by the internet. Of all the different services offered on the web, some stay, and some go out of fashion. For example, for some time I kept issuing the so-called "mail magazine", but have discontinued to do so. I have initiated a mailing list, which is still active, but I can see its difficulties. Social network services somehow have not captured my imagination. There is something about a SNS which is not really creative or practical, and I seem to spend little time accessing them.
So I hear the latest buzzword is "Twitter". I am registered, and following some guys while being followed by some. I do understand the role of Twitter in, for example, recent reporting of events in Iran after the election. I can see that Twitter has a potential of replacing or complementing the traditional journalism. Having said that, Twitter so far has not really worked for me.
I seem to have rather stringent criteria for how I use my brain time on the web, and so far Twitter does not capture my imagination. Maybe I am wrong and am simply not seeing something.
Even in the internet era, it is not that one spends all one's time on the web. We have other things to do. I seem to regard the time connected to the internet as very precious, trying to be "a web athlete", using the "on-time" in the most efficient and rewarding way.
I think I have been an experimenter of various media offered by the internet. Of all the different services offered on the web, some stay, and some go out of fashion. For example, for some time I kept issuing the so-called "mail magazine", but have discontinued to do so. I have initiated a mailing list, which is still active, but I can see its difficulties. Social network services somehow have not captured my imagination. There is something about a SNS which is not really creative or practical, and I seem to spend little time accessing them.
So I hear the latest buzzword is "Twitter". I am registered, and following some guys while being followed by some. I do understand the role of Twitter in, for example, recent reporting of events in Iran after the election. I can see that Twitter has a potential of replacing or complementing the traditional journalism. Having said that, Twitter so far has not really worked for me.
I seem to have rather stringent criteria for how I use my brain time on the web, and so far Twitter does not capture my imagination. Maybe I am wrong and am simply not seeing something.
Even in the internet era, it is not that one spends all one's time on the web. We have other things to do. I seem to regard the time connected to the internet as very precious, trying to be "a web athlete", using the "on-time" in the most efficient and rewarding way.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Weeds
I was traveling to Nara, the ancient capital of Japan.
After searching for huge cedar trees in the mountain, I was strolling in the town center with my fellow travelers.
It was dusk. We were looking for a place to rest our tired body and have some nourishment, preferably preceded by a glass of ice-cold beer.
There was a car park, and looking down, I noticed a few weeds growing out of the crevices of pavement.
What a contrast, I thought. The 1500 years old cedar trees we've seen in the mountain, and these small weeds in the corner of the busy street.
Yet, they share the same principles of living. They are hopefuls on this earth. They are green, and thriving, or trying to thrive, as best they could.
Life. They are everywhere. Hope is the unifying theme of all that is living, whether it is the 1500 year old cedar tree in the mountain or the tiny weeds in the car park crack, or we thirsty bears looking for that refreshing glass of drink.
Weeds in the car park.
After searching for huge cedar trees in the mountain, I was strolling in the town center with my fellow travelers.
It was dusk. We were looking for a place to rest our tired body and have some nourishment, preferably preceded by a glass of ice-cold beer.
There was a car park, and looking down, I noticed a few weeds growing out of the crevices of pavement.
What a contrast, I thought. The 1500 years old cedar trees we've seen in the mountain, and these small weeds in the corner of the busy street.
Yet, they share the same principles of living. They are hopefuls on this earth. They are green, and thriving, or trying to thrive, as best they could.
Life. They are everywhere. Hope is the unifying theme of all that is living, whether it is the 1500 year old cedar tree in the mountain or the tiny weeds in the car park crack, or we thirsty bears looking for that refreshing glass of drink.
Weeds in the car park.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Lamentations of a Mermaid.
"The Lamentations of a Mermaid" (Ningyo no nageki) is a literary bar ("Bundan" bar) in Tokyo. You can meet writers, novelists, editors and other people from the literary circle in the bar.
The name of the bar is taken from the novel by Junichiro Tanizaki. The bar is owned by Ms. Saiko Matsumoto.
Literary bars such as The Lamentations of a Mermaid are Japanese institutions. There are many legends involving famous writers in the literary bars. Literary bars are also practical in that you can have a chance meeting with people who share the same interest, namely writing and editing. Sometimes, projects for a book is struck up in the bar.
The Lamentations of a Mermaid is located near the University of Tokyo. I know the area very well from my student days. There are many second hand bookshops, where they sometimes sell the original hand-written manuscripts of famous writers.
The sign ("The lamentations of a mermaid" written in Japanese) at the door of my favorite literary bar.
The name of the bar is taken from the novel by Junichiro Tanizaki. The bar is owned by Ms. Saiko Matsumoto.
Literary bars such as The Lamentations of a Mermaid are Japanese institutions. There are many legends involving famous writers in the literary bars. Literary bars are also practical in that you can have a chance meeting with people who share the same interest, namely writing and editing. Sometimes, projects for a book is struck up in the bar.
The Lamentations of a Mermaid is located near the University of Tokyo. I know the area very well from my student days. There are many second hand bookshops, where they sometimes sell the original hand-written manuscripts of famous writers.
The sign ("The lamentations of a mermaid" written in Japanese) at the door of my favorite literary bar.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Watermelons
When I was a kid, I really loved to eat watermelons. I would sometimes eat them graciously with a spoon, with all the grace that a boy child could command. On other occasions I would just bite into the red flesh and spit the seeds out, often into the garden, but sometimes in the den.
As one gets older, one grows out of many things, and sadly, in my life, watermelons have been phased out.
This summer, there was a resurgence of watermelons. There seems to be always a tinge of watermelon in my unconscious. When I walk along the street, watermelons pop into my view, and I take notice of them. When I am staying in a hotel, and a buffet style breakfast is served, I seem to be taking more slices of watermelon than usual.
The other day I was pondering this comeback of watermelons in my life. Ostensively, it all started when I chanced upon some watermelons on the night streets during my last trip to China (end of June). The visit reminded me of a novel ("Hometown") by the Chinese writer Lu Xun that I read in my teens. In this novel, there is a beautiful description of the watermelon field.
It must be the connotations of nostalgia and forgotten psychology that kick-started the chain reaction. I am yet to pin down the significance of watermelons in my life.
Watermelons on the night street.
As one gets older, one grows out of many things, and sadly, in my life, watermelons have been phased out.
This summer, there was a resurgence of watermelons. There seems to be always a tinge of watermelon in my unconscious. When I walk along the street, watermelons pop into my view, and I take notice of them. When I am staying in a hotel, and a buffet style breakfast is served, I seem to be taking more slices of watermelon than usual.
The other day I was pondering this comeback of watermelons in my life. Ostensively, it all started when I chanced upon some watermelons on the night streets during my last trip to China (end of June). The visit reminded me of a novel ("Hometown") by the Chinese writer Lu Xun that I read in my teens. In this novel, there is a beautiful description of the watermelon field.
It must be the connotations of nostalgia and forgotten psychology that kick-started the chain reaction. I am yet to pin down the significance of watermelons in my life.
Watermelons on the night street.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Romantic Irony
In the great masterpiece by Soseki Natsume, Sanshiro, there is a humorous passage between Yojiro and Sanshiro, two University students.
--------------
Sanshiro, after extending the logic thus far, thought that he has been a bit influenced by master Hirota. In actually, he was not that desperate.
Next day, at the university, the lectures continued to be dull. However as the air in the auditoriums were superficially far removed from the frivolous society, Sanshiro, by three p.m., succeeded to be a member of the Second World, the world of academic endeavors. Sanshiro, thus feeling like a great cultural figure himself, walked to the Oiwake police station when he happened to meet Yojiro.
"Ha ha ha, he he he"
Yojiro bursted into laughter. Sanshiro's posture of being a serious thinker was disrupted. Even the officer at the police station seemed to be laughing.
"What is it?" Sanshiro demanded angrily.
"YOU tell me what it is. When you walk, walk like a decent human being! The way you step forward, you look like an epitome of ROMANTIC IRONY."
Sanshiro did not understand what Yojiro meant with this western word. Unable to say anything sensible, Sanshiro asked "did you find the lodging?"
"That is why I just visited your place. Tomorrow, we move. You would come and help, wouldn't you?", Yojiro answered.
"Where are you moving?"
"10-He-3 of Nishikata district. Go there and clean the place by nine in the morning. I will be there later. Understand? By nine in the morning. 10-He-3. See you then."
Yojiro hurried by. Sanshiro went back to his lodging quickly.
Later that night, Sanshiro walked back to the University library, and looked up the word "Romantic Irony". He found that it was a concept originally put forward by the German poet Schlegel. According to the idea, a genius must wander around all day, without any objectives, without making conscious efforts. Finding what "Romantic Irony" meant, Sanshiro was finally relieved, went back to his lodging and slept.
(Translation from the original Japanese text mine)
-----------
Ever since I read this passage in the novel in my youth, I have been fascinated by the concept "romantic irony."
Nowadays, in the cognitive neurosciences, the concept of
default network is very much in focus. I sometimes weigh the relation between the default network and romantic irony, and ponder the resonances.
--------------
Sanshiro, after extending the logic thus far, thought that he has been a bit influenced by master Hirota. In actually, he was not that desperate.
Next day, at the university, the lectures continued to be dull. However as the air in the auditoriums were superficially far removed from the frivolous society, Sanshiro, by three p.m., succeeded to be a member of the Second World, the world of academic endeavors. Sanshiro, thus feeling like a great cultural figure himself, walked to the Oiwake police station when he happened to meet Yojiro.
"Ha ha ha, he he he"
Yojiro bursted into laughter. Sanshiro's posture of being a serious thinker was disrupted. Even the officer at the police station seemed to be laughing.
"What is it?" Sanshiro demanded angrily.
"YOU tell me what it is. When you walk, walk like a decent human being! The way you step forward, you look like an epitome of ROMANTIC IRONY."
Sanshiro did not understand what Yojiro meant with this western word. Unable to say anything sensible, Sanshiro asked "did you find the lodging?"
"That is why I just visited your place. Tomorrow, we move. You would come and help, wouldn't you?", Yojiro answered.
"Where are you moving?"
"10-He-3 of Nishikata district. Go there and clean the place by nine in the morning. I will be there later. Understand? By nine in the morning. 10-He-3. See you then."
Yojiro hurried by. Sanshiro went back to his lodging quickly.
Later that night, Sanshiro walked back to the University library, and looked up the word "Romantic Irony". He found that it was a concept originally put forward by the German poet Schlegel. According to the idea, a genius must wander around all day, without any objectives, without making conscious efforts. Finding what "Romantic Irony" meant, Sanshiro was finally relieved, went back to his lodging and slept.
(Translation from the original Japanese text mine)
-----------
Ever since I read this passage in the novel in my youth, I have been fascinated by the concept "romantic irony."
Nowadays, in the cognitive neurosciences, the concept of
default network is very much in focus. I sometimes weigh the relation between the default network and romantic irony, and ponder the resonances.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Imperfection.
Ever since I learned that there was going to be a total solar eclipse in the southern islands of Japan I wanted to be there.
However, these islands are very small and it is difficult to get there. As time passed, and the news about sold-out air tickets and overpacked boats circulated, it became clear that I cannot be on these remote islands on the 22nd of July, 2009.
For a while I thought of flying to Shanghai, where the total eclipse belt would pass. My schedule made it impossible to realize. I had appointments on the days and before and after.
Gradually, I reconciled myself with the idea of observing the partial solar eclipse. I did just that.
On the day of the solar eclipse, I placed myself in a forest and watched the disfiguration of the sun in the sky. As the moon passed between the sun and the earth, the world around me turned into dusk. But not totally dark. Soon the sun began to shine again.
Thus I learned to accept an imperfection in life. I realized that there is certain glory in an imperfection. The lingering aftertaste of unfulfilled expectations.
Imperfections are beautiful.
However, these islands are very small and it is difficult to get there. As time passed, and the news about sold-out air tickets and overpacked boats circulated, it became clear that I cannot be on these remote islands on the 22nd of July, 2009.
For a while I thought of flying to Shanghai, where the total eclipse belt would pass. My schedule made it impossible to realize. I had appointments on the days and before and after.
Gradually, I reconciled myself with the idea of observing the partial solar eclipse. I did just that.
On the day of the solar eclipse, I placed myself in a forest and watched the disfiguration of the sun in the sky. As the moon passed between the sun and the earth, the world around me turned into dusk. But not totally dark. Soon the sun began to shine again.
Thus I learned to accept an imperfection in life. I realized that there is certain glory in an imperfection. The lingering aftertaste of unfulfilled expectations.
Imperfections are beautiful.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Bookworm
When I was a kid I used to be a bookworm. When I am really absorbed in reading, I become one with the book. On one memorable afternoon, I read four thick books in a row, after borrowing them from the library.
One of my favorite pastimes is to lay myself on the sofa, and keep reading the books, preferably on a lazy summer afternoon. As I am too much occupied nowadays, I cannot indulge myself in this sweet marriage with the imagined and fictional, much to my regret.
One of my favorite pastimes is to lay myself on the sofa, and keep reading the books, preferably on a lazy summer afternoon. As I am too much occupied nowadays, I cannot indulge myself in this sweet marriage with the imagined and fictional, much to my regret.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Deprivation.
I went to the performance of "Hansel and Gretel" of Seiji Ozawa Ongakujuku 2009.
The first time I heard live music under Seiji Ozawa's conducting was when I went to a Salome performance with my mother in the suburbs of Tokyo. The music by Richard Strauss was played with fire and full of passion. I became an instant fan.
Ever since, I have been listening to Ozawa when I had a chance. One of the most memorable occasions was when I attended the performance of the Saito Kinen Orchestra conducted by Seiji Ozawa, in the Queen Elizabeth hall. I was studying in Cambridge then, and took the train to the King's Cross railway station in London.
Listening to Hansel and Gretel, I thought about how deprivation nurtured fantasy. Hansel and Gretel are very poor. They cannot get anything other than dry bread. Water is the only drink they come by. When Gretel is fortunate to get some milk from a neighbor, her mother accidentally spills it, breaking the new jar. Angrily. the mother tells Hansel and Gretel to pick up some berries in the forest.
The valley of deprivation is very deep for the boy and girl. Because of that, in a contrast, the dreamlike fantasy of angels that guard Hansel and Gretel's troubled sleep in the night forest becomes shining and rewarding.
Deprivation is the mother of the arts. A great artist can see deprivation even in a situation when there is peace on surface and materialistic abundance everywhere. The artist's soul can identify and then fulfill a spiritual void.
The first time I heard live music under Seiji Ozawa's conducting was when I went to a Salome performance with my mother in the suburbs of Tokyo. The music by Richard Strauss was played with fire and full of passion. I became an instant fan.
Ever since, I have been listening to Ozawa when I had a chance. One of the most memorable occasions was when I attended the performance of the Saito Kinen Orchestra conducted by Seiji Ozawa, in the Queen Elizabeth hall. I was studying in Cambridge then, and took the train to the King's Cross railway station in London.
Listening to Hansel and Gretel, I thought about how deprivation nurtured fantasy. Hansel and Gretel are very poor. They cannot get anything other than dry bread. Water is the only drink they come by. When Gretel is fortunate to get some milk from a neighbor, her mother accidentally spills it, breaking the new jar. Angrily. the mother tells Hansel and Gretel to pick up some berries in the forest.
The valley of deprivation is very deep for the boy and girl. Because of that, in a contrast, the dreamlike fantasy of angels that guard Hansel and Gretel's troubled sleep in the night forest becomes shining and rewarding.
Deprivation is the mother of the arts. A great artist can see deprivation even in a situation when there is peace on surface and materialistic abundance everywhere. The artist's soul can identify and then fulfill a spiritual void.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Sentimental value
In the small house that I rented in Cambridge, there was an old wooden chair. I used to sit on them in the evening, sipping beer and watching the swallow in the sky.
"This chair has a sentimental value for me", said the University Professor who rented me the house. "You see, my father made it for me when I was kid".
There is something about the human brain's ability to comprehend and learn language which is quite extraordinary. It was the first time that I heard the expression "sentimental value" used in this particular context, and the meaning was immediately clear. The term has stayed with me, and the memory sometimes returns to me as if in a flash, the enigmatic moment when I first came across this expression of the English language.
We attach a sentimental value to many things in life. Most of the time it is an object. With dynamic, moving things of life, it is often difficult to capture and assign a sentimental value to it.
We do sometimes succeed. For example, I remember vividly how when I was about eight I came across a huge tree where literally tens of common bluebottles (Graphium sarpedon) gathered. This particular species is not uncommon, but I have never seen them in such an abundance before or ever afterwards.
It was in the backyard hill of my relative, in my mother's native island of Kyushu. The forest that covered the hill is now lost, turned into a huge housing project.
The fact that the environment which nurtured it would never return adds fuel and sparkling to the sentimental value of this memory. I treasure it like a gemstone of bygone days.
"This chair has a sentimental value for me", said the University Professor who rented me the house. "You see, my father made it for me when I was kid".
There is something about the human brain's ability to comprehend and learn language which is quite extraordinary. It was the first time that I heard the expression "sentimental value" used in this particular context, and the meaning was immediately clear. The term has stayed with me, and the memory sometimes returns to me as if in a flash, the enigmatic moment when I first came across this expression of the English language.
We attach a sentimental value to many things in life. Most of the time it is an object. With dynamic, moving things of life, it is often difficult to capture and assign a sentimental value to it.
We do sometimes succeed. For example, I remember vividly how when I was about eight I came across a huge tree where literally tens of common bluebottles (Graphium sarpedon) gathered. This particular species is not uncommon, but I have never seen them in such an abundance before or ever afterwards.
It was in the backyard hill of my relative, in my mother's native island of Kyushu. The forest that covered the hill is now lost, turned into a huge housing project.
The fact that the environment which nurtured it would never return adds fuel and sparkling to the sentimental value of this memory. I treasure it like a gemstone of bygone days.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Criticism in action.
Some time ago, I was talking with the curator Yuko Hasegawa. We were discussing the nature of criticism, a necessary element in evaluating works of contemporary art, which is Yuko's field of expertise.
"When I look at a piece and do not like it, I simply move on", Yuko said.
"I walk and look, and keep moving on, saying this is not it. Then, once in a while, I come across a marvelous piece that really shakes my soul. Then I say to myself, here it was."
Yuko's method of criticism in action fits me. Criticism is not about having the last word. It is about living, actively searching, making discoveries, and accepting.
With Yuko Hasegawa
"When I look at a piece and do not like it, I simply move on", Yuko said.
"I walk and look, and keep moving on, saying this is not it. Then, once in a while, I come across a marvelous piece that really shakes my soul. Then I say to myself, here it was."
Yuko's method of criticism in action fits me. Criticism is not about having the last word. It is about living, actively searching, making discoveries, and accepting.
With Yuko Hasegawa
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Erdos number
I met with the Hungary born mathematician Peter Frankl for a radio program at NHK
Peter is a fascinating character. He is also known for his juggling acts. He said he started practicing for street performances as juggling was more visible to people. Mathematical problems are notoriously difficult to come across.
While discussing, Peter casually mentioned that he has written several papers with Paul Erdos. "Are, you are Erdos number one, then!" I exclaimed. So far in my life, the smallest Erdos number that I encountered was three.
"As Paul Erdos is sadly no longer with us," Peter said, "it is now impossible to become Erdos number one any more".
My only hope is that if I write a paper with Peter Frankl, I would get Erdos number two. Peter said he was working on a paper on quasi-random graphs. My Ph.D. thesis was on an application of graphic transformation.
As I left the studio, the shining smile of Peter Frankl remained with me, to illuminate and inspire.
With Peter Frankl in the NHK studio.
Peter is a fascinating character. He is also known for his juggling acts. He said he started practicing for street performances as juggling was more visible to people. Mathematical problems are notoriously difficult to come across.
While discussing, Peter casually mentioned that he has written several papers with Paul Erdos. "Are, you are Erdos number one, then!" I exclaimed. So far in my life, the smallest Erdos number that I encountered was three.
"As Paul Erdos is sadly no longer with us," Peter said, "it is now impossible to become Erdos number one any more".
My only hope is that if I write a paper with Peter Frankl, I would get Erdos number two. Peter said he was working on a paper on quasi-random graphs. My Ph.D. thesis was on an application of graphic transformation.
As I left the studio, the shining smile of Peter Frankl remained with me, to illuminate and inspire.
With Peter Frankl in the NHK studio.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Royal family
I attended the rehearsals for the opera "Hansel and Gretel" by Humperdinck. The conductor was Seiji Ozawa.
The rehearsals were held for the upcoming performances of the Seiji Ozawa Ongakujuku 2009.
During the intermission, just before the General Probe for the third act, I had an interesting conversation with Mr. Graham Clark , who sang the part of the witch. Marianne Wachter was with us.
Graham has appeared as Mime in Bayreuth for many years. "The atmosphere was quite special", Graham said. "We used to have curtain calls for 40 or 50 minutes. It is Walhall. People make a pilgrimage to Bayreuth to come to close encounters with the great tradition".
"It is the only family opera house left in Europe", Marianne said.
"The Wagner family, in a sense, is the only Royal family in Germany", said Graham. "It is certainly the most important family", Marianne said.
"It is not easy to see all these if you don't live in the German speaking world".
The time came for Graham to sing. In a moment, the gentleman transformed himself into the witch and stormed onto the stage.
The rehearsals were held for the upcoming performances of the Seiji Ozawa Ongakujuku 2009.
During the intermission, just before the General Probe for the third act, I had an interesting conversation with Mr. Graham Clark , who sang the part of the witch. Marianne Wachter was with us.
Graham has appeared as Mime in Bayreuth for many years. "The atmosphere was quite special", Graham said. "We used to have curtain calls for 40 or 50 minutes. It is Walhall. People make a pilgrimage to Bayreuth to come to close encounters with the great tradition".
"It is the only family opera house left in Europe", Marianne said.
"The Wagner family, in a sense, is the only Royal family in Germany", said Graham. "It is certainly the most important family", Marianne said.
"It is not easy to see all these if you don't live in the German speaking world".
The time came for Graham to sing. In a moment, the gentleman transformed himself into the witch and stormed onto the stage.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Mt. Fuji
I live in Tokyo. I travel on the Shinkansen (bullet train) to the western cities (e.g. Nagoya, Kyoto, and Osaka) of Japan quite often. In a particularly busy week last year I traveled to and from the Kansai region four times within seven days. Shinkansen is quite indispensable.
When I was a kid, traveling on the Shinkansen was a magical experience. As the train leaves the Tokyo station, and passes through Odawara and Atami, I would start looking expectantly through the window, waiting for Mt. Fuji to emerge in its magnificent appearance.
Mt. Fuji is quite arguably the most fascinating and awe-inspiring mountain in Japan, and looking at the rocky apparition was the highlights of my travels in childhood.
Nowadays I am busy doing this and that on the train, and rarely gaze at Mt. Fuji for a prolonged time. The trains are now equipped with WiFi. Otherwise I am deep asleep, and do not notice the passage of the heavenly mountain.
Even on these prosaic days I do sometimes glance at the most famous mountain in Japan, and the magic of childhood days returns to this insensitive soul.
When I was a kid, traveling on the Shinkansen was a magical experience. As the train leaves the Tokyo station, and passes through Odawara and Atami, I would start looking expectantly through the window, waiting for Mt. Fuji to emerge in its magnificent appearance.
Mt. Fuji is quite arguably the most fascinating and awe-inspiring mountain in Japan, and looking at the rocky apparition was the highlights of my travels in childhood.
Nowadays I am busy doing this and that on the train, and rarely gaze at Mt. Fuji for a prolonged time. The trains are now equipped with WiFi. Otherwise I am deep asleep, and do not notice the passage of the heavenly mountain.
Even on these prosaic days I do sometimes glance at the most famous mountain in Japan, and the magic of childhood days returns to this insensitive soul.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Aerial dance
Yesterday, I was giving lectures at University of Osaka.
Walking along the street, I saw two common bluebottle (Graphium sarpedon) butterflies in the sky. They kept flying, chasing each other.
After a while, one of them began circling around the other. The movement was quite rapid. The circle was completed more than once a second, approximately.
I was fascinated by this elegant and dynamic display of behavior. It must be written in the genetic code. Generations after generations have performed this aerial dance without knowing how or why.
Walking along the street, I saw two common bluebottle (Graphium sarpedon) butterflies in the sky. They kept flying, chasing each other.
After a while, one of them began circling around the other. The movement was quite rapid. The circle was completed more than once a second, approximately.
I was fascinated by this elegant and dynamic display of behavior. It must be written in the genetic code. Generations after generations have performed this aerial dance without knowing how or why.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Symbolization
"Kaen-doki" ("Fire flame earthenwares") are found in various part of Japan, and are estimated to have been made 4000 to 5000 years ago. Some fine specimen of these vessels with magnificent ornamentation are registered as National Treasures of Japan, and as such, are the oldest members of this genre.
Several years ago, I had an opportunity to observe one particularly fine fire flame vessel in Tokamachi . I was impressed by the abstract expression of the fire flames figures.
Nobody is sure that these patterns actually represent fire flames, given that there were no letters to record and convey the significance in those period. Yet, as one admires the ornamentation, one is brought into the strange realm of symbolization of the dancing flames, now twisted and now straight, ever changing, but remaining eternal in essence.
I can almost imagine myself watching the fire flames at night in those ancient times. Surrounded by the menacing darkness, the fire flames must have appeared to be the symbol of our earthly existence itself.
A fire flame earthenware.
Several years ago, I had an opportunity to observe one particularly fine fire flame vessel in Tokamachi . I was impressed by the abstract expression of the fire flames figures.
Nobody is sure that these patterns actually represent fire flames, given that there were no letters to record and convey the significance in those period. Yet, as one admires the ornamentation, one is brought into the strange realm of symbolization of the dancing flames, now twisted and now straight, ever changing, but remaining eternal in essence.
I can almost imagine myself watching the fire flames at night in those ancient times. Surrounded by the menacing darkness, the fire flames must have appeared to be the symbol of our earthly existence itself.
A fire flame earthenware.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Blueberries
I went to Vancouver, Canada at the age of 15 for one month to study English. My host family (Verna and Jim) lived in Richmond.
They would often take me to the Richmond Nature Park. It was fun to walk among the woods, with squirrels crossing your way.
It was there that I learned the joy of blueberry picking. The blueberry trees bore lots of fruits all around the park. It was fun to pick and eat the sweet little blue things as you walked along the shrubs.
"You are allowed to pick and eat the berries in the park", Verna said, "but you can't take them home in a jar to make jam"
There was this primordial joy in nourishing nature at first hand. You can get blueberries in packages in the supermarkets, but it is not the same thing. Devouring directly from the twigs had a flavor incomparable to any artificially prepared delicacies.
They would often take me to the Richmond Nature Park. It was fun to walk among the woods, with squirrels crossing your way.
It was there that I learned the joy of blueberry picking. The blueberry trees bore lots of fruits all around the park. It was fun to pick and eat the sweet little blue things as you walked along the shrubs.
"You are allowed to pick and eat the berries in the park", Verna said, "but you can't take them home in a jar to make jam"
There was this primordial joy in nourishing nature at first hand. You can get blueberries in packages in the supermarkets, but it is not the same thing. Devouring directly from the twigs had a flavor incomparable to any artificially prepared delicacies.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Metacognition.
From time to time, when I am walking around for example, I have this strange feeling. I had one last night, as I strolled on the dimly-lit street towards home.
What is this universe, anyway?
We know that there are natural laws, with molecules moving about within and outside our body, the universe (supposedly) beginning some 13.7 billions years ago, meanwhile life forms evolving, and presto, here we are, self-conscious beings, thinking about consciousness itself, killing time with this game and that website, breathing in the air, and when we feel like it, sometimes wondering, what this is all about.
Yeah. What is this all about?
In the cognitive sciences, the importance of metacognition is stressed. We need to step out of the system sometimes and observe it as if from outside. There are properties only recognizable by doing just that. What if we try to come to a metacognition of the universe that we are in?
In those rare moments, when I feel as if I have woken up from a long dream, I have this strange hunch that we have been oblivious of some important truths hidden from the beginning of time.
What is this universe, anyway?
We know that there are natural laws, with molecules moving about within and outside our body, the universe (supposedly) beginning some 13.7 billions years ago, meanwhile life forms evolving, and presto, here we are, self-conscious beings, thinking about consciousness itself, killing time with this game and that website, breathing in the air, and when we feel like it, sometimes wondering, what this is all about.
Yeah. What is this all about?
In the cognitive sciences, the importance of metacognition is stressed. We need to step out of the system sometimes and observe it as if from outside. There are properties only recognizable by doing just that. What if we try to come to a metacognition of the universe that we are in?
In those rare moments, when I feel as if I have woken up from a long dream, I have this strange hunch that we have been oblivious of some important truths hidden from the beginning of time.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Fishing lights
Right now I am in Hakodate. I gave a lecture at the Future University Hakodate.
The night fell. I was at a Sushi restaurant with my friends. As I strolled onto the street, I saw glaring lights in the distance. At first I was confused. Then I realized that they were on the sea.
"They are Isaribi", my friend said.
A poetic Japanese word for the fishing lights. With these glitters, the fishermen attract squids. We had just enjoyed one in the Sushi restaurant.
For some time, I could not turn my eyes away from the fishing lights. They were like apparitions which did not quite belong to this earth.
The night fell. I was at a Sushi restaurant with my friends. As I strolled onto the street, I saw glaring lights in the distance. At first I was confused. Then I realized that they were on the sea.
"They are Isaribi", my friend said.
A poetic Japanese word for the fishing lights. With these glitters, the fishermen attract squids. We had just enjoyed one in the Sushi restaurant.
For some time, I could not turn my eyes away from the fishing lights. They were like apparitions which did not quite belong to this earth.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Butterfly alerts
As a kid I used to collect and study butterflies quite seriously. My butterfly mania was quite famous in the neighborhood and school. One day, when I was eight years old, one of my class mate girls contacted me. Apparently, there were some interesting looking butterfly larvae in the garden of her house, and she was wondering if I wanted to come and have a look.
That was one instance of the many butterfly alerts that I used to get from people around me those days. When at home, I would sometimes get media related butterfly alerts. I had my room on the second floor, and I would be reading books, when my mother yelled "Kenichiro, come, butterfly's on t.v.".
I would rush downstairs, and if I was lucky, would get a glimpse of butterflies on the screen, either in a news or a nature documentary.
When your love is known, people would give you alerts, out of kindness, and you respond with quick moves. Butterfly alerts were highlights of my youthful life.
Myself as a kid (10 years old) waiting for the butterfly in the woods, possibly in the northern island of Hokkaido on a butterfly trip.
That was one instance of the many butterfly alerts that I used to get from people around me those days. When at home, I would sometimes get media related butterfly alerts. I had my room on the second floor, and I would be reading books, when my mother yelled "Kenichiro, come, butterfly's on t.v.".
I would rush downstairs, and if I was lucky, would get a glimpse of butterflies on the screen, either in a news or a nature documentary.
When your love is known, people would give you alerts, out of kindness, and you respond with quick moves. Butterfly alerts were highlights of my youthful life.
Myself as a kid (10 years old) waiting for the butterfly in the woods, possibly in the northern island of Hokkaido on a butterfly trip.
Thursday, July 09, 2009
To the river
When I strolled in Cambridge U.K. for the first time back in 1993, I was fascinated by the ancient ambience of the academic city. As I approached the Trinity college, I noticed a small writing on the wall.
"To the river", it said, with an arrow pointing towards the river Cam.
I liked the metaphor, and it stayed with me to this day.
In my life, whenever I can, I am looking for a road leading to the river.
"To the river" sign on the wall near Trinity college, Cambridge, U.K.
"To the river", it said, with an arrow pointing towards the river Cam.
I liked the metaphor, and it stayed with me to this day.
In my life, whenever I can, I am looking for a road leading to the river.
"To the river" sign on the wall near Trinity college, Cambridge, U.K.
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
Thousand people bath
My mother originated from the southern island of Kyushu.
I was about five when my parents took me to the hot spring city of Beppu, a few hours away from my mother's native town.
The city is famous for various kinds of "hells." The hells are actually special kinds of hot springs, which have been turned into fictional realms belonging to another world where earthly sins would be corrected.
My aunts and uncles were with us. Seeing some hells must have fuelled my imagination. I remember vividly how we came to the entrance of a hot spring bath, when my aunt said that it was called a "thousand people bath" (sen-nin-buro), as a thousand people could bathe at the same time.
The word stimulated my mind, which had been made soft and sensitive by the exposure to the hells. I pictured a thousand people in bare skins standing very close to each other, with the white steam encircling them.
I wanted to see it for myself, but I was dragged by the hand and was taken to the station, where we took the train to travel further.
More than 30 years later, I visited the city of Beppu for a brain science conference. I found out where the "thousand people bath" was in the tourist office.
The real "thousand people bath" was a gigantic hot water pool, roofed by a huge glass structure. The sunshine filled the interior, and there were trees and grasses shining in healthy green colors.
It was nice, but very different from what the five year old imagined it to be.
I am still looking for my thousand people bath.
I was about five when my parents took me to the hot spring city of Beppu, a few hours away from my mother's native town.
The city is famous for various kinds of "hells." The hells are actually special kinds of hot springs, which have been turned into fictional realms belonging to another world where earthly sins would be corrected.
My aunts and uncles were with us. Seeing some hells must have fuelled my imagination. I remember vividly how we came to the entrance of a hot spring bath, when my aunt said that it was called a "thousand people bath" (sen-nin-buro), as a thousand people could bathe at the same time.
The word stimulated my mind, which had been made soft and sensitive by the exposure to the hells. I pictured a thousand people in bare skins standing very close to each other, with the white steam encircling them.
I wanted to see it for myself, but I was dragged by the hand and was taken to the station, where we took the train to travel further.
More than 30 years later, I visited the city of Beppu for a brain science conference. I found out where the "thousand people bath" was in the tourist office.
The real "thousand people bath" was a gigantic hot water pool, roofed by a huge glass structure. The sunshine filled the interior, and there were trees and grasses shining in healthy green colors.
It was nice, but very different from what the five year old imagined it to be.
I am still looking for my thousand people bath.
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
Extremists
I don't know how it is, but I can breathe easily when there are rooms for extreme people.
Extremity is an art, and requires a certain level of intellect. I really enjoy a conversation when there is somebody in the party who has eccentric views on, for example, the second law of thermodynamics, or the collapse of wave function in quantum mechanics.
Most scientists take a mild attitude towards these venerable enigmas, saying that as far as they can calculate things for all practical purposes (FAPP), they don't care. Those conservative people, although they are certainly the main stream in the academics, do not really interest me. Because they don't make the air lighter.
Being an extremist is not easy nowadays, when the society becomes increasingly practical. It is well advised to keep a sensible day job, while you maintain the extremist's activities at night.
It fills me with indescribable joys to think that there are still extremists around.
Extremity is an art, and requires a certain level of intellect. I really enjoy a conversation when there is somebody in the party who has eccentric views on, for example, the second law of thermodynamics, or the collapse of wave function in quantum mechanics.
Most scientists take a mild attitude towards these venerable enigmas, saying that as far as they can calculate things for all practical purposes (FAPP), they don't care. Those conservative people, although they are certainly the main stream in the academics, do not really interest me. Because they don't make the air lighter.
Being an extremist is not easy nowadays, when the society becomes increasingly practical. It is well advised to keep a sensible day job, while you maintain the extremist's activities at night.
It fills me with indescribable joys to think that there are still extremists around.
Monday, July 06, 2009
Principles
Now I have kept this journal for one month in a row, starting from the 6th of June entry "A double sin". There were two entries prior to that (3rd and 4th of June), but the continuation was broken because I did not make any entries on the 5th.
The Qualia Journal itself as initiated on 9th October 2004, with the entry "Hello World". There were 11 entries in that year. The year 2005 saw 44 entries, followed by 29 in 2006, 68 in 2007, and just 11 in 2008.
This year I intend to continue this "blog streak" for quite a long time, unless something inevitable prevents me from doing it. The reason why I am doing this is complex in psychology but simple in the principles.
It is always the principles that count.
The Qualia Journal itself as initiated on 9th October 2004, with the entry "Hello World". There were 11 entries in that year. The year 2005 saw 44 entries, followed by 29 in 2006, 68 in 2007, and just 11 in 2008.
This year I intend to continue this "blog streak" for quite a long time, unless something inevitable prevents me from doing it. The reason why I am doing this is complex in psychology but simple in the principles.
It is always the principles that count.
Sunday, July 05, 2009
Pursuer of inner light
The paintings by El Greco (1541-1614) always struck me as very original, ever since I glanced upon one in an art museum.
Giorgio Giulio Clovio was an artist freind of El Greco, although much older than him.
-------
Clovio reports visiting El Greco on a summer's day while the artist was still in Rome. El Greco was sitting in a darkened room, because he found the darkness more conducive to thought than the light of the day, which disturbed his "inner light". (quoted from M. Acton, Learning to Look at Paintings, p.82)
--------
The figures depicted in the El Greco paintings appear as if they are shining from within.
The inner light, when it comes from the painter, is the source for great originality.
In order to be unique you need to listen to your inner voice, rather than attend to what is being said and circulated around you.
A pursuer of inner light goes far, freed from the conventions of the day.
"The Opening of the Fifth Seal" by El Greco.
Giorgio Giulio Clovio was an artist freind of El Greco, although much older than him.
-------
Clovio reports visiting El Greco on a summer's day while the artist was still in Rome. El Greco was sitting in a darkened room, because he found the darkness more conducive to thought than the light of the day, which disturbed his "inner light". (quoted from M. Acton, Learning to Look at Paintings, p.82)
--------
The figures depicted in the El Greco paintings appear as if they are shining from within.
The inner light, when it comes from the painter, is the source for great originality.
In order to be unique you need to listen to your inner voice, rather than attend to what is being said and circulated around you.
A pursuer of inner light goes far, freed from the conventions of the day.
"The Opening of the Fifth Seal" by El Greco.
Saturday, July 04, 2009
Two infinities.
I was talking with my best chum Yoshi Tamori.
Yoshi is a mathematical genius. He likes to talk about iterations and infinities.
One of Yoshi's favorite topics is the Euler–Mascheroni constant. One is filled with a sense of wonder when you ponder its definition.
Both the harmonic series and the natural logarithm of N tends to infinity as N->inifinite. However, the difference between these two infinities is finite, namely
gamma = 0.57721 56649 01532 86060 65120 90082 40243 10421 59335 93992.
The two infinities are "relatives" separated exactly by this finite number.
Myself (left) and Yoshi Tamori at the Hermitage Museum, St. Petersburg, Russia.
Yoshi is a mathematical genius. He likes to talk about iterations and infinities.
One of Yoshi's favorite topics is the Euler–Mascheroni constant. One is filled with a sense of wonder when you ponder its definition.
Both the harmonic series and the natural logarithm of N tends to infinity as N->inifinite. However, the difference between these two infinities is finite, namely
gamma = 0.57721 56649 01532 86060 65120 90082 40243 10421 59335 93992.
The two infinities are "relatives" separated exactly by this finite number.
Myself (left) and Yoshi Tamori at the Hermitage Museum, St. Petersburg, Russia.
Friday, July 03, 2009
Secret Buddha
I did not understand the philosophy of the hibutsu (secret Buddha) until I chanced upon one a few years ago.
To treat a Buddha statue as a hibutsu is an essentially Japanese phenomenon. The statue can be sometimes made open to the public (Gokaicho, or "unveiling of the statue"), which is, and has always been, a great time of festivities. The statues which are occasionally made open to the public (even if it is once in hundred years) are secret in the relative sense. Other statues are secret in the absolute sense, e.g. the famous secrete Buddha in Zenkoji temple, which became the site of the opening ceremonies for the 1998 Nagano Olympics.
The Buddha statue in Zenkoji is absolutely secret. Nobody has seen it, not even the powerful warlords like Oda Nobunaga (1534-1582) .
Even when one can worship a secret Buddha statue, one is not allowed to take a photograph or make a drawing most of the time. If you are lucky enough to glance upon one, the only thing you can do is to try to keep its image in your memory.
The secret Buddha experience makes one reflect on the onceness of life. Some things just happen and then pass by for ever. You cannot capture the essence and keep it for record. Life happens to you once and for all, never to return.
To treat a Buddha statue as a hibutsu is an essentially Japanese phenomenon. The statue can be sometimes made open to the public (Gokaicho, or "unveiling of the statue"), which is, and has always been, a great time of festivities. The statues which are occasionally made open to the public (even if it is once in hundred years) are secret in the relative sense. Other statues are secret in the absolute sense, e.g. the famous secrete Buddha in Zenkoji temple, which became the site of the opening ceremonies for the 1998 Nagano Olympics.
The Buddha statue in Zenkoji is absolutely secret. Nobody has seen it, not even the powerful warlords like Oda Nobunaga (1534-1582) .
Even when one can worship a secret Buddha statue, one is not allowed to take a photograph or make a drawing most of the time. If you are lucky enough to glance upon one, the only thing you can do is to try to keep its image in your memory.
The secret Buddha experience makes one reflect on the onceness of life. Some things just happen and then pass by for ever. You cannot capture the essence and keep it for record. Life happens to you once and for all, never to return.
Thursday, July 02, 2009
Hidden agenda.
When I was 15, I learned about the Game of Life invented by John Horton Conway.
The idea immediately fascinated me. I used to calculate generations of life game on a graph sheet while I was attending the school classes. From these early days, I was somebody who could not sit still just listening to what people said. I was wont to do this or that with my hand, while attending to the speech at the same time. For some enthusiastic months in my teens calculating generations of the Game of Life on a graph sheet was the thing to do.
Daniel Dennett discusses the Game of Life in his book "Freedom evolves". The point is that there could be a great degree of separation between the basic laws of temporal evolution and the phenomenology of what emerges as a result.
It has been shown that you can build a universal Turing machine in the world defined by the Game of Life algorithm. With proper mappings, complex life forms like ourselves could inhabit the universe of the Game of Life.
I am sure that the great distance between cause and effect exists as a hidden agenda in our own life. The intricate relation between the initial conditions and what result in the Game of Life teaches us a lesson. You should not be too serious about the supposed "objectives" in life. You are well advised not to base your actions entirely on explicit objectives. At least you must never take it too literally.
You know, nature can hide the true agenda in a very clever way, like in the Game of Life.
Initial conditions for the Glider Gun.
The idea immediately fascinated me. I used to calculate generations of life game on a graph sheet while I was attending the school classes. From these early days, I was somebody who could not sit still just listening to what people said. I was wont to do this or that with my hand, while attending to the speech at the same time. For some enthusiastic months in my teens calculating generations of the Game of Life on a graph sheet was the thing to do.
Daniel Dennett discusses the Game of Life in his book "Freedom evolves". The point is that there could be a great degree of separation between the basic laws of temporal evolution and the phenomenology of what emerges as a result.
It has been shown that you can build a universal Turing machine in the world defined by the Game of Life algorithm. With proper mappings, complex life forms like ourselves could inhabit the universe of the Game of Life.
I am sure that the great distance between cause and effect exists as a hidden agenda in our own life. The intricate relation between the initial conditions and what result in the Game of Life teaches us a lesson. You should not be too serious about the supposed "objectives" in life. You are well advised not to base your actions entirely on explicit objectives. At least you must never take it too literally.
You know, nature can hide the true agenda in a very clever way, like in the Game of Life.
Initial conditions for the Glider Gun.
Wednesday, July 01, 2009
No knowledge, no imagination.
Albert Einstein famously said that "imagination is more important than knowledge". If I may add a humble something to the words of wisdom by a genius, knowledge sometimes helps one's imagination.
Actually, knowledge can serve as the secure base (as was described by John Bowby) for one's imagination. Knowing for a fact that the sun is burning hydrogen to make helium can set one to imagine a lot of things on an idle afternoon.
No knowledge, no imagination.
One could go quite far in one's imagination based on scanty information. When I was a kid, I used to imagine a lot, because in those days there was relatively little information about anything that you cared about.
With the advent of information age, there is a danger that imagination is suffocated. To avoid death by knowledge, one should have a strong pair of legs. By jumping from the springboard of knowledge, one can dive into the ocean of unlimited imagination.
Actually, knowledge can serve as the secure base (as was described by John Bowby) for one's imagination. Knowing for a fact that the sun is burning hydrogen to make helium can set one to imagine a lot of things on an idle afternoon.
No knowledge, no imagination.
One could go quite far in one's imagination based on scanty information. When I was a kid, I used to imagine a lot, because in those days there was relatively little information about anything that you cared about.
With the advent of information age, there is a danger that imagination is suffocated. To avoid death by knowledge, one should have a strong pair of legs. By jumping from the springboard of knowledge, one can dive into the ocean of unlimited imagination.
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