Mr. Internet should be the most appropriate candidate.

When I was studying physics as an undergraduate at the university, I wrote an essay arguing for the necessity of reducing the cost of international phone calls. The argument was that the borders of nations could be defined in terms of the "connectivity" of the graphs representing information flow. Within the borders of a nation state a dense connection of information exchange was to be found, whereas there was less information flow across the border.

I did not take the borders of nations as an a priori entity. By making more information flow over the national borders, I hoped to dissolve the difference and conflicts between the nation states. A dramatic reduction in the cost of phone bills seemed to be a good strategy to that end. I even argued for the involvement of international organization such as the united nations to bring about that change.

What I did not anticipate at that time was, of course, the advent of the internet. The 20 years old I was arguing to introduce a "flat rate" system for domestic and international calls, as a moral requirement in the global age. The flat rate for information flow has been more or less actualized. Using the internet, it is now possible for us to communicate without necessarily being aware of the national borders.

If there is to be a single nominee for the Nobel Peace Prize, Mr. Internet should be the most appropriate candidate.

Would-be wild animals.

When Soseki Natsume was offered doctorate degree from the Japanese government in the Meiji era, he declined, saying that he has been living as an anonymous Natsume somebody, and wanted to keep living as Natsume somebody. When the government official insisted on receiving the degree, Soseki firmly rejected, saying that "seeing the circumstances in this country, the presence of the degree of doctorate is doing only harm to the progress of academic studies, I must conclude"

As I live on, and experience various ups and downs of life, I start to appreciate the depth and perceptions of Soseki. Humans are weak, and many people fall victim to worshipping the merits and degrees bestowed upon them, while the real substance suffers. Soseki saw clearly, that the social honours enjoyed by his contemporary "cultural dignitaries" only worked to diminish their sensitivity as creators and appreciators of artistic and academic establishments.

One has to remain wild, untamed, in order to be creatively interesting. That was Soseki's instinct, and the Meiji era Japan was rapidly going into the opposite direction. Almost 100 years later, the "important people" who enjoyed prestige as "doctorate" holders are long forgotten, while the works of Soseki, who remained a wild animal, keep being read and appreciated by would-be wild animals.



Soseki Natsume. An cultural wild beast to the end.

The food was excellent, and the worries of the day melted away.

I had an interesting public dialogue with the mystery writer Ms. Shizuko Natsuki.

After the lively conversation, I went to a book shop (Kinokuniya) in Fukuoka for a book signing. My latest book on the history of human civilization has just been released.


Ken Mogi "The stellar time of civiliation" ("Bunmei no Hoshijikan"). 2010.

After the book signing, we went to a restaurant to celebrate the day. As we were six in all, we took two taxis.

Our destination was a cozily small restaurant in the middle of a residential area. I was in the first taxi. Soon after we got on, it started to rain. The driver of the second taxi has been asked to follow the first one. Due to the rainfall and deepening darkness of night, and because of traffic, it was not easy to continue driving after the guiding taxi.

At such a time, I typically become worried. I get anxious if the second taxi is rightly following us. The driver of our taxi, who was apparently a professional in these matters, repeatedly assured us that it would be OK. Despite that, I was so worried that I closed my eyes and tried to wrap me in the warmth of the unknowing.

After several minutes we were at the door of the promised land. The second taxi came along just fine, and we were joined together at the table, smiling and hungry. The food was excellent, and the worries of the day melted away.

Ponder the existence of yourself before your father and mother was born.

Later in the evening, I came to Hakata, the central city in my mother's native area of northern Kyushu.

Although I am a frequent visitor to the city, I feel as if I have never been able to have enough of it. I am always in search of something, unconsciously and consciously, and yet do not know what it is that I am actually searching for. It can be vaguely described as the scent of something distant, soft, warm, which embraces me gently, and takes me back to my infant days, or even before that.

The great writer Soseki Natsume once attended a Zen session at a temple. During his stay, he was presented with a Zen enigma: Ponder the existence of yourself before your father and mother was born. Soseki was very impressed by this enigma and writes about it in one of his novels.

Visiting Hakata, I might have always been in search of something akin to this famous Zen Enigma. Ponder the existence of yourself before your father and mother was born. Since the question is an intractable one, I am ever wandering, looking for the answer in vain.

The trick was just to focus on the next step, in order not to despair unduly.

When I was a kid, I used to climb mountains a lot. Japan is a very mountainous country, and it is not difficult to find a mountain nearby anywhere in the nation.

It was not that I particularly liked the experience of climbing. It was hard to uplift your body against the gravity, even though at those times I was not that heavy. However, I did like to follow the paths in hours of sweating and increased heart beats.

It was rewarding to be able to view the scenery once you were at the top. From up there, everything became open and visible all at once. In the course of the upward journey, things remain very invisible and intractable. It was hard to tell where you were exactly, and whether you were approaching the destination at all. Sometimes the path went down, and then up, and you felt that your energy was being wasted. Once you had the commanding view of the peak, you have a fairly good idea of where you have been all these times. And then you start the downward journey in which you find yourself lost all over again.

When I look back, I guess I rather liked the long and sometimes boring ritual of climbing. The trick was just to focus on the next step, in order not to despair unduly. It was remarkable how some elements of the famous Myth of Sisyphus was to be found in my humble trial.

Memoir about dolls crackers

Yesterday was the girls' day (Hina-Matsuri) in Japan. When I was a boy, because boys will be boys, and I wanted to follow suit, I pretended that I did not care about the girls' day at all. However, I actually did care for these things.

As my sister and mother prepared the Hina dolls towards the girls' day, (see the picture from wikipedia below), I would hang around, trying to appear not interested, but actually very very interested.

The white faces of the dolls allured me into a strange kingdom of eternity. The fact that I was able to see the dolls only once in a year added to my enthusiasm. However, I tried my best to conceal my feverish interests, naturally.

The thing to do on the girls' day was to eat "hina arare", or dolls crackers. These were specially prepared rice crackers and sweets to be eaten on and around the girls' day.

Now, it was quite legitimate for a "rough" boy to be interested and consume a dolls cracker. However, even then, it was socially dangerous to appear to eager about it, especially when your fellow boys were around.

It was therefore quite a relief when you could have loads of hina arare without anyone watching it. I still hold it to be one of the most enjoyable pastimes to sit on the sofa with a pack of hina arare, and read my favorite books. Nowadays, of course, I don't care that much who may be watching me doing that. It is interesting how in your childhood peer pressures play such a crucial and sometimes devastating role in forming your state of mind.



A typical Hina Matsuri dolls display.



Typical Hina-Arare rice crackers

They will go out, including this writer, weather permitting.

The Japanese are famously crazy about the cherry blossoms. When the season comes (usually from the end of March to the beginning of April, depending on the location and the weather of the year), people go outdoors, place mats on the ground, and conduct a ritual of sake drinking and lively conversation ("hanami", literally "flower admiring").

Although some quite justifiably criticize the supposed "purpose" of this custom, that of admiring the cherry blossoms, as just a "pretext" to drink, the criticism is always a light-hearted one. When the time comes again for the Japanese people to go out, they will go out, including this writer, weather permitting.

As more reserved and quieter forerunners to the more outgoing cherry blossoms, the plums have been blooming for the past few weeks. Used to be that Japanese people admired the plums rather than the cherries, in the short poems and essays. It is interesting to consider what brought the change of sensitivities. Maybe it is easier to have a sake drinking session during the cherry blooming time, when it is noticeably warmer.

The Moichi collage

My best friend and great producer Moichi Kuwahara has kindly put my tweet alongside a nice photo.



http://twitter.com/kenmogi

http://twitpic.com/163vhm

Muscle confusion

I came across an interesting concept recently. Muscle confusion. The idea is to expose the body to the greatest variety of movements, intervals, loads, modes of action as possible when you train. In other words, you treat your body as a complex system, not as a simpleton machine. I think the concept makes sense.

I have been doing push-ups and sit-ups these days, and what I find is that monotony leads to boredom. After a while you simply cannot take it any more, since your body knows already what to expect and it is not fun.

It is interesting to consider how you can expose your body to different kinds of physical trials, at quite unexpected times. In other words, you always try to take your body by surprise.

Creativity is proportional to the courage to break from the status quo.

A few days ago, I tweeted: Creativity is not proportional to intelligence per se. Creativity is proportional to the courage to break from the status quo. @ http://twitter.com/kenmogi.

You know it took me such a long time to come to this particular realization.

The inspiration came to me when I was pondering the life of Albert Einstein. There is no doubt that Albert Einstein was a terribly intelligent man. How else could one bring about an evolution such as the theory of relativity into the world? I actually decided to become a scientist because I was infected by the marvel of the "Einsteinian" intellect.

However, it cannot be said that the achievement of Albert Einstein is due to his intellect alone. He was a remarkably courageous man. At a time when the education at German speaking schools was conducted in an authoritarian manner, Albert Einstein rebelled against the system. He traveled around Europe alone, after dropping out of the Gymnasium.

When choosing the subject of study, he went off the beaten track and pursued his inspiration in the teens concerning what would happen if you followed light with the speed of light. Because he did not go along the status quo, or the powers that be, he could not get a job at the university, but worked at the patent office instead.

All these rough drives of life did not make Albert Einstein wince. He continued with his brave journey of investigation, and succeeded in creating a brand new way to look at the space-time.

When you ponder the life of Albert Einstein, you realize that creativity is proportional to the courage to break from the status quo.



The Albert Einstein T-shirt that I sometimes wear to get around in Tokyo.

Blessings would often come in the form of strangers

Traveling is quite important in life, as staying in one place and a single context restricts how one's brain and body function.

In an era where information is exchanged on a global level instantly, modes of physical travel remain strangely and rewardingly limited.

I went to the city of Ise yesterday, to attend a forum on food and health. I first had to take the Shinkansen from Tokyo to Nagoya, and then change to the Kintetsu line, taking a nap on the way, basking in the sunshine that came through the window.

When I awoke, I was in the middle of rice fields, where a couple of people were walking in a relaxed manner. In the distance, I saw a range of low mountains, with their peaks covered with white cloud.

I came all the way to witness this, I thought. My entire mind system went into a hitherto unknown condition. I smelt the pleasant approach of the unknown, and I knew at that moment that blessings would often come in the form of strangers.

As we approach the springtime in the northern hemisphere

When you encounter a new idea, the influence is often brutal. It takes possession of your whole system, and violent reactions sometimes follow. You're greatly agitated, and you think about the idea the whole time.

Gradually, the novelty is lost, and the idea is incorporated into you. The explicit encounter turns into implicit knowledge. The idea becomes part of you, and you need not think about it all the time. More often than not, you forget the idea itself.

As we approach the springtime in the northern hemisphere, I sometimes think if we should not regain the initial agitation from time to time. The excitement as you discover a new idea, which changes your life, and burns your heart. Although such a reaction is often short-lived, it is one of the primes of our life, and it is well to remember. Spring is a fit season for the resurgence of young and bold in spirit.

Spring had come to me on one February evening in Tokyo

I had some glasses of really good sake last night, and got drunk. I was with my best friends. We just finished a very strenuous work day.

A fine sake has a certain divinity in its transparent existence. As time passes, and as you sip the previous liquid into your system, something in you dissolves, is sweetened, and bitterness of life, if any, disappears into the air.

A sake is a godsend. It makes the barriers between individuals melt like a spring snow. Thanks to the sake and a good company, spring had come to me on one February evening in Tokyo.

Emergent contingency

I went to the NTT R&D forum 2010. I met with several very interesting people, and encountered exciting lines of research.

It is interesting how the progress of time sometimes brings about a dramatic contextual shift in society. The mobile phone network, originally constructed as a infrastructure for voice communications is now rapidly becoming an infrastructure for information other than voice.

The key word is "out of the box" experience. When a user buys a device, he or she does not have to enter a contract with a carrier explicitly. The financial arrangements are taken care of behind the scene. When a consumer buys music, text, video while online, a small portion of the money would go to the carrier, without the consumer noticing it. This is convenient for all the parties
concerned. And it gets rid of transportation in the physical domain, reducing carbon dioxide emission, and reducing garbage.

I gave a one hour speech in which I discussed the significance of emergent contingency. The information network that we are constructing is all about the nurturing of interesting contingency structure in which the human brains can learn, interact, and explore. I am convinced that we are living in a very exciting era. The only limit is the imagination.

I hadn't seen a single one of them.

I normally do not watch television much. It is not that I do not care for good programs. I simply do not have the time.
There was a testimony of this fact the other day. Later last year, I was a judge of a commercials competition. The short-listed commercial videos were shown one by one.

Mr. Kundo Koyama, who wrote the script for the film Departures, was one of the judges. After seeing the commercials, Mr. Koyama remarked that he realized how influential these T.V. commercials are, as he knew nearly half of them although he seldom watches the television, as little as 10 to 15 minutes a day.

I sat there, in the middle of the committee, with my jaws open. I hadn't seen a single one of them. If commercials are one of the important media through which the zeitgeist is nurtured and propagated, then I do not breathe that air.

I remember the golden days when as I kid I used to watch my favorite anime programs, and share the latest information once in school with my mates. Now the world is fragmented, and it is difficult to share a common mood. Maybe it is the fault of people like me.

Faint light still barely visible in the great northern void

Whether a man has a free will or not is a great topic of debate in philosophy and science.

No matter what kind of position one takes, it is clear that it is the multitude of miscellaneous things that drives each of us. When we make a choice, many different things in our neural circuit compete for influence and dominance, and the result might surprise even the agent himself.

Life is thus like surfing waves. The surge of the unknown from the unconscious is not unknown for all of us. Living is full of surprises, as previously unknown motifs and motives suddenly drive us to pathways of living hitherto undreamed of.

When we think of the variety of influences that form us, the goal that one pursues throughout life is like a dim light seen in the distance. It is not something that dominates your whole system. Your existence is rather swayed to and fro in an unpredictable manner, you keep surfing the waves of the multitude, and from time to time, you look up at the dark sky and see the faint light still barely visible in the great northern void.

Bad money drives out good

I don't know about other countries, but I do feel that what is undeniably lost in this country is the will and ability to see and endeavor for distant things.

Things were different at different times. I hear that in the postwar era, people were craving for knowledge. When the Iwanami Shoten, publisher of quality books for the academic and the academically-oriented general readership, released the first series of readings, people lined up in front of the bookstores. They were so eagerly waiting for the first drop of enlightenment after years of darkness and oppression, and it showed. Time flies like an arrow, and now many publishers in Japan decry they cannot sell quality books, while bestsellers of marginal or superficial values crowd the bookshelves.

Gresham's law states that bad money drives out good. The key assumption behind it is that both good money and bad money are legal tenders, and should be accepted in the exchanges in the market. It is true that both cheap knowledge and profound are exchanged in today's society as if they are equivalent, as long as they can lead to revenues and sales.

We all live in a market economy, and deploring the status quo adds nothing towards amending the situation. It is interesting to consider under what sociological conditions do people start for aiming at distant ideals, though.

This morning I read a bit of Bertrand Russell.

We all live in the contemporary world, and are bombarded with miscellaneous information every day. While interacting with the immediate environment is useful and necessary, I personally find that listening to distant voices is as necessary.

I find that walking through life with only the current affairs by one's side makes one's soul rough and coarse. I need to read, think about, and hearken to things from the distant past, those time-tested gems. Otherwise something in me wither and then perish.

This morning I read a bit of Bertrand Russell.

In the process of "jumping" between the two languages

I have started a new series in my twitter. The first two entries are:

Have you heard of the "flowers in the storm" metaphor? Life is all about saying goodbye.

Drink this wine and pretend that you're dead once you have drunk it. To our health!

http://twitter.com/kenmogi　

These two sentences are actually translations of famous sayings in Japanese.
It is interesting to consider what remains and what not in translation. If you compare the above two English expressions with the original Japanese ones, you notice that some elements of essence are preserved (otherwise what would be the use of translation?). On the other hand, some nuances are lost. It is true that particular impressions can only be invoked by the use of the Japanese language.

Interestingly, things are also added. In the process of "jumping" between two languages, something is attached to one's mind. These elements then sparkle and impress.

It is a general biological principle that crossing the border would generate new things. Here's to the joy of bridging two universes!

The medal monopoly was such an excitement for us kids

The Vancouver Olympics brings excitement and sweet memories.

When I was 9, the Olympic games were held in Sapporo. The 70 m ski jump was a dream result for the Japanese kids, as three compatriots, Mr. Kasaya, Mr. Konno, and Mr. Aochi won the Gold, Silver, and Bronze medals, respectively.

The medal monopoly was such an excitement for us kids that we immediately started to imitate the game. We gathered around the slide and imagined that we were actually participating at the jump hill. After the beep sound signaling for start, we would slide down, and jump, trying to imitate the marvelous players.

Because the Olymics come so far in-between, it can be an impressive marker of your life.