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.

Keep going with the "writing streak"

I went to a wonderful performance of Siegfried at the New National Theater. Wagner took years to complete this magnum opus.
As I reflected on my own daily activities, I came to the conclusion that I needed to review the way I interact in the internet.

I would like to use my hours and minutes so that activities would lead to meaningful accumulation. After much thought, I have discontinued the comment and trackback sections of the Japanese blog, as approving the entries take too much time every morning. I have pondered the nature of this English blog, and decided to keep going with the "writing streak" (since 6th June last year), as this space is meaningful as an opportunity of experimentation with English expressions. I also decided to leave the comments function here open, as I see it is serving as a medium of meaningful communications here and worldwide.

Several things in my life made me go through this soul searching.

The qualia journal. Phase 1

The qualia journal. Phase 1.

From 9th October 2004 to 17th February 2010.

Now I am soul searching.

Looking forward to the unknown, no matter how small it might be

The healthiness of one's brain can pretty well be judged by whether one embraces the uncertainties in life with pleasure.
A kid has great expectations for the future. On the night before the school trip, for example, it is not uncommon for a kid to be so excited that it is difficult to sleep. It is not that those school outings are going to be anything great in actuality. It is just the expectations that brings the children into the cosmos of the infinities.

As one grows older, this great ability of being excited over the unknown is gradually lost. The future becomes mundane. There, the decline of the brain health starts.

Looking forward to the unknown, no matter how small it might be, is a great way to keep your brain young and up.

On intolerance

Much as I respect and love my fellow country people, there are some tendencies recently in Japan that I cannot go along.

One thing is the spreading of intolerance. It is not that people in Japan are generally intolerant. Far from it. All my trusted friends are quite liberal, and respect the individualities and variances. At best or worst it is a divided nation. It is only that intolerant people are often noisy. And the media follow them without reflections and criticism. Making noise is one of the business models of big media, much to the disservice for the whole community.

Intolerant people are old in spirit. They cannot accept change. They inhibit the creative dynamo of others and themelves. In a society where many people are eagerly applying anti-aging techniques, I sometimes wonder why people do not take the prescriptions for tolerance.

If the wave of intolerance spreads further, everyone loses. Not only does it have a generally intimidating effect on the young and creative, but also the intolerant people themselves lose the most essential brilliance of life.

If, on the other hand, more and more people learn how to be tolerant to individuals of different opinions and value systems, no matter how alien and strange they may appear, everyone would be a winner.

Either way, they have nothing to say about their performance

The Vancouver Olympics is well under way. When I watch the games, when I can that is, I tend to focus on the losers, as well as the winners. Athletes cannot explain their failures away. They have nothing to say about their performance. They just do it, based on the skills and experiences that they have acquired over the years through arduous training, and they just accept the results as they come, no matter what nature. If they lose, they quietly fade away. If they win, they enjoy the transient spotlight. Either way, they have nothing to say about their performance, as everything is over once the competition time is up.

As the world become increasingly talkative, delving into other people's matters and widening the range of one's objects of comments, the athletes in the Olympics provide a refreshing contrast, just concentrating on what their finite bodies can and cannot achieve.

Maybe we should all be like the athletes.

During the dinner party even, I strolled onto the night street alone.

I came to Shimada, Shizuoka. I gave a public lecture in the city auditorium, talking about the brain, life, and mindsets.

After the lecture, I had a break before the evening social events. I strolled the backstreets of Shimada.

It is always such a great pleasure to be lost, or, more precisely, to try to be lost in an unknown city. Narrow streets would meander, and you're led to a new vista, in a metaphorical movement for life itself.

It is so soothing to be released from your everyday social networks, and to be immersed in the soothing radiance of the isolation of choice.

During the dinner party even, I strolled onto the night street alone. Mr. Kawamura came to search for me. I raised my hand to assure my connectedness. We are all connected, through the great darkness that envelop the planet earth in periods.

On Fridays, Crick would take loads of papers with him to read over the weekend.

We hold a weekly journal club. It is called "the Brain Club." I regard the reading of journal papers as an important part of the education for graduate students. At first, it might take even a week to understand the significance of a paper, and present it to the lab members. As you get accustomed to the genre, you start reading the paper very rapidly. When you are thoroughly accustomed, you may be able to read a typical neuroscience paper in 10 minutes, and tell the gist of it to your colleague.

I got my Ph.D at University of Tokyo under the supervision of Dr. Takeyuki (Taki) Wakabayashi. Taki did research a few years at the Medical Research Council laboratory in Cambridge, United Kingdom. Taki used to say that Francis Crick read a lot of papers. On Fridays, Crick would take loads of papers with him to read over the weekend.

Training yourself to read lots of research papers is fun, and I whole-heartedly recommend it to people of high intellectual aspirations. Nowadays, it is very easy to do, as many papers are available on the internet for free. You don't have to belong to a university, or any institution whatever.

I always remember the glorious moment for the bass boys.

Nowadays, when I work in the morning, I listen to Messiah of George Frideric Handel. It is one of my all-time favorite pieces of music.

When I was a senior high student, we practiced the Hallelujah chorus. I was a bass. All the good parts are taken by the soprano and tenor. There was, however, one passage where the bass went solo.

"And he shall reign forever and ever"

For this particular line, the bass went first, and then the other vocal parts followed. We the bass boys were naturally very proud of it, and waited eagerly for that eternal moment.

Messiah's music is beautiful all through, and I can only marvel at the genius of Handel. When it comes to the Hallelujah chorus, I always remember the glorious moment for the bass boys. There is at least one shining moment in life for an underdog.

The whole process of ordering, eating, and then leaving would fall into a jazzy pace

Just outside the ticket gate of Ginza subway station in central Tokyo, there's a curry restaurant that I like. I have been the customer there since my university days. It is not a fanciful place. Just an ordinary establishment, where the curry and rice is served quickly, as you order them at the counter and wait.

I used to go to the Kabuki theater and nearby cinemas often as a student. When you are alone and hungry, you would like to get done with the ritual of filling your stomach quickly, without any fuss. At such occasions, the curry place would be a prime choice, where the whole process of ordering, eating, and then leaving would fall into a jazzy pace.

In and out of Tokyo, I have several places like the Ginza curry restaurant, my solitary meal destinations. I used to go quite often to a yakisoba restaurant in Ueno station, which is close to my old university. The yakisoba place was just beside the stairs, and you would buy tickets before ordering. As you waited for the culinary delight to arrive, watching the cooks using large forks and tongs, your expectations would grow. As I remember the place, noises and smells and the whole atmosphere come back so vividly.

Sadly, the Ueno restaurant is no longer with us, after the huge renovation the station went through several years ago. There is
now a Hard Rock cafe near the ancient yakisoba restaurant place.

The remarkably late realization on the part of Rick

Now I am back in Tokyo. Reflecting on my encounter with Rick Baron, I think the most remarkable fact was that although Rick is gifted with this most astonishing ability to recall autobiographical memories, he is at the same time good at social skills, and warm to people. In other words, there is no apparent effect of "trade-offs" in his overall cognitive skills.

I think this fact had partly to do with the remarkably late realization on the part of Rick (two years ago) that his special talent is something rare in this world. Indeed, there are only four confirmed cases of hyperthymesia so far. Because Rich Baron is such a nice and "normal" person, nobody including himself suspected that his brain was so special.


The crew from Fuji television filming Rick Baron.

It always has a human touch

On the final day in Cleveland, we went to various places with Rick Baron.

About one hour after shopping in a liquor shop, I asked him if there were anything particular that he remembered from the shop. Rick came forward with the list of items we bought, complete with their prices, in a very straightforward and spontaneous manner. I, on the other hand, had only a fuzzy idea about what we have bought, let alone the prices.

The strange thing is that as you get accustomed to Rick's way, you feel as if it is only natural to remember things with precise chronological data. Failure to do so start to look like embarrassing.

One could not learn to perform like Rick by training, though. After spending a few days with Rick Baron, I am convinced that his remarkable memory ability is something that he was born with. It is not an acquirable skill. Even if the trick of retrieving the precise chronological information could be mastered after many years of strenuous efforts, the resulting memory skill would not be in its nature equivalent to Rick's.

In other words, Rick's memories are "personalized". It always has a human touch, and adds warmth to the information he gives away in such a positive and reassuring manner.


Watching the Super Bowl, New Orleans Saints vs. Indianapolis Colts, with Rick Baron in a Cleveland Sports Bar 7th February 2010.