I WISH YOU A BETTER EXISTENCE NEXT TIME

I WISH YOU A BETTER EXISTENCE NEXT TIME

Arachnophobia (or arachnephobia) is a specific phobia, the fear of spiders and other arachnids such as scorpions. People with arachnophobia tend to feel uneasy in any area they believe could harbor spiders or that has visible signs of their presence, such as webs. If arachnophobics see a spider, they may not enter the general vicinity until they have overcome the panic attack that is often associated with their phobia. Some people scream, cry, have emotional outbursts, experience trouble breathing, sweat, or even have heart palpitations when they come in contact with an area near spiders or their webs. In some extreme cases, even a picture or a realistic drawing of a spider can trigger intense fear. My name is Hayato Tokugawa and I am arachnophoic.

No, no — I don’t scream or cry or have emotional outbursts, but I get very nervous or uneasy. I had it pretty much under control. Just the other day, there was a small spider scurrying around the kitchen — I suppose looking for crumbs from the previous night’s pizza. “Ok, I was going to pour myself a cup of coffee, but I’ll come back in a few minutes when she’s done.”

They used to say that phobias were “unreasonable fears” but I think in the case of spiders they are quite reasonable indeed. I grew up in Mill Valley, California, a heavily-wooded area, and we had our shares of spiders, and from time to time I had to deal with dangerous recluse spiders. Although there were probably black widow spiders, I don’t recall ever seeing any. Growing up I did have a couple of “pretty good” spider bites” from unknown species but, hey…I was a tough kid! Nonetheless, I didn’t like them and felt uneasy around them, something that was partially relieved by taking Entomology 101 (which included arachnology) at the university. The end result was a certain “clinical” curiosity if encountered but otherwise spiders were to be avoided. Ok…they “creep me out!”

Over the years there really hadn’t been much of a problem as I did tend to avoid them and there always seemed to be a brave cat around to take care of the problem…until last week. Either the spider would run off when the cat’s play was too much or the cat made it disappear, doing whatever cats do to spiders. (I know, I just don’t want to think about it!) That having been said, it was early morning — a warm, peaceful morning — when I stepped outside, coffee cup in hand to breathe in the fresh pre-dawn air and to enjoy the sound of birds just waking up and saluting the day in song. Out the door and over to the gate. There in front of me, suspended in her web at the corner of the gate and the fence, was a large (not unreasonably, neurotically gigantic, but mature-large) black spider, her belly turned outward clearly showing her red “hourglass”, her arms and legs outstretched, waiting for something edible to come by and get caught up in her net. Well, I felt a bit uneasy — nervous but not terribly afraid — and rational enough to go back to the house, get my camera, and take a photo of her…which came out pretty well despite a certain amount of hand tremors. Admittedly I thought about killing her, but only briefly. Despite my uneasiness, she wasn’t hurting anything, she was doing what she does in nature; but more than that, I am a Buddhist and thus really reluctant to kill anything. I’ll even step over bugs just so as not to hurt them.

The next morning she was there again in her web, striking the same pose. She was fascinating and at the same time terrible. Yet, every time I walked by or through that gate, even in the daytime, I felt very uneasy and looked for her. The following morning she was not visible. The wind had come up and it was considerably colder so I decided that she had probably taken shelter. Fine! Good! (For me!) I thought a lot about whether I should “terminate” her “with extreme prejudice). I even consulted a scientist I know, an expert on animal emotions. “Are spiders sentient? I asked.

“Probably not,” was the reply. “Spiders, while they may have swollen bellies, lack the neural apparatus necessary for the evolution of emotions…so probably no. Then again, who knows?” I took that as a “no.”

I resolved that as long as there was no threat, the black widow could stay, with the hope that she would eventually move on. And she seemed to do that. I felt a slight uncertainty but was generally relieved when I didn’t see her for two more nights. Then…the weather turned warm again and there was no wind. I stepped out the door, coffee in hand about 5 am and walked out through the garden gate — no spider — I thought.

Suddenly I was aware of something behind me. Dropping down from the crossbeam — it was her in all her black splendor! She just missed me by inches! I turned and backed away as she lowered herself to the ground and then followed after me, in my footsteps. Maybe it was the warmth from my feet that she was following — warm prey — I don’t know. Then she stopped suddenly, returned to her silken thread, and climbed back up — suspended in the middle of the open gateway about a foot off the ground. It was warm but I felt chills as though it was mid-winter and very nervous. She watched me.

Crap! My way was blocked! The front door was locked. There was no way back except past her and that wasn’t going to happen. I waited. I looked at her, my hands shaking — she looked at me — waiting. This just wasn’t going to work. I really tried but my inner peace was coming apart, and I wanted to go home! With an “I’m really sorry,” I raised my foot (yes I was wearing shoes) and quickly brought it down on her, with the thought “I wish you a better existence next time.”

She lay on the pavement, curled up — dead. Shuddering and probably making some kind of primal sound of fear and disgust, I went back into the house. I was rattled. I hate killing anything but it really had come down to her or me. We had been at an impasse and I had to do something.

Later in the day, I swept her off into the grass, perhaps food for the ants. Just having her there, in the way though dead, I still felt uneasy walking through the gate. I’m still watchful going in or out of that gate. Could there be another?

© Copyright 2017 by Hayato Tokugawa. All rights reserved.

BLACK WIDOW

BLACK WIDOW

at my garden gate

a reasonable fear

widow of death waits

hoping for supper

her orphaned children are hungry

widow of death waits

a warm spring morning

she offers a deadly hug

shivers down my spine

I CANNOT SLEEP

I CANNOT SLEEP

I cannot sleep. The time was 2 am and I am wide awake. Saito the cat is delighted — an extra, early breakfast and unexpected play time. “I might as well work,” I think and move to the kitchen to brew the coffee. While waiting, I step out the front door to breathe the morning air.

It is quiet with not even a sound from the distant railroad — not even a cricket. The street is dark and empty and nothing moves. No wait! Two figures, dressed in completely in black, with black hoods pulled over their heads, pass by on the opposite sidewalk. “Death and his intern on an errand?” I wondered. Perhaps not, but creatures of the night nonetheless. In front of me, a cricket makes his way across the sidewalk to a patch of green grass now gray in the early gloom. I smile. Another creature of the night but one I do not dread.

I return to the kitchen where a spider scurries about the counter, perhaps looking for crumbs from last night’s pizza. I decide to leave the kitchen to her for a while and come back for the coffee later. Musings of Lafcadio Hearn await on my computer.

A FINE MADNESS

A FINE MADNESS

     The singer-songwriter Conor Oberst once said, "There's a very fine line between one person's reality and another person's fantasy." Oscar Levant once said, "“There's a fine line between genius and insanity. I have erased this line.” And Poe remarked, "“I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity.” All of these words came to mind this morning when I woke up to find "Motoko" the little kokeshi doll I had given to tiny Cloe Nekojin in one of my cartoons, staring at me from behind the corner of the nightstand next to my futon, as I awoke. I have no recollection of putting her there in that position (or any position), although I certainly could have done so the other day while dusting. I just don't remember. Yet, as I opened my eyes and saw Cloe's toy, watching me, I felt a bit unnerved. Did I put it there? Or was Motoko there on some other account? I know Motoko is real, and I'm reasonably certain Cloe is a product of my imagination (where sometimes, especially late at night she seems almost too real) and my pen...but still...I had to wonder as I staggered off to the kitchen for coffee...scratching my head.

KAPPAS: A LEGEND REVEALED

KAPPAS: A LEGEND REVEALED

Igor and "Kappa."

 Meet Igor the dog and his very special friend Kappa. You will all agree that it is a charming photo of a dog and his otter friend; however, the photograph caused me to pause for a moment and think. Perhaps it was fortuitous that not only did I see the cute picture, but that the otter’s name is of all things “Kappa!”

For those of you unfamiliar with the word “kappa,” allow me to take a moment to explain. A kappa (河童, literally “river child”), also known as a kawako (川虎, literally “river tiger”, is a yōkai (demon) or imp found in traditional Japanese folklore.

  

 A ceramic female kappa and children in the town square in Tajimi, Japan.

The name is a combination of the words kawa (river) and wappa, a variant form of 童 warawa (also warabe) “child.” In Shintō they are considered to be one of many suijin (水神), or “water deities”). A hairy kappa is called a hyōsube (ひょうすべ). In Japanese Buddhism they are considered to be a kind of hungry ogre. Kappa are especially noted for having a small pool or “bowl” of water situated on top of their head, signifying, and by some legends, holding their life force.

  

 Various forms of Umagappa, the kappa mascot of Tajimi, Japan.

Now, as many of you may know, I have a special affinity for kappa, and have included them in my “Nekojins” cartoons.

  

 From "My Neighbors the Nekojins" featuring Vinnie Nekojin and his kappa friend fishing together.

You may also know that I also have a special affinity for otters as evidenced by the “Nekojin” cartoon character “Otto,” a North American river otter who stowed away in a backpack at San Francisco’s Land’s End, only to be discovered later and adopted into the family.

  

 From "My Neighbors the Nekojins," Otto the North American river otter and his teddy bear.

That having been said, as I looked at the photo of Igor and Kappa, I had what might be called a type of epiphany — both a realization and a question. Could otters actually be kappa? I read and questioned, read some more, and have arrived at the realization that they probably are. The following is my theory on the matter: 

Museum display of a Japanese river otter.

Kappa, the legendary “river children” are indeed otters; specifically, they are (or were) Japanese river otters (Lutra lutra whiteleyi) or 日本川獺 (Nihon-kawauso). I say “were,” because they are no longer. The Japanese river otter is an extinct variety of otter which at one time was quite widespread in Japan. Reports by Westerners of them living in the Tokyō area go back to the 1880s. The Japanese otter population (not unlike the otter populations along the west coast of North America, and particularly California) suddenly declined drastically in the 1930s and also as in California, nearly vanished. In more recent times, Japanese otters have only been spotted in the Seto Island Sea (1964) and in the Uwa Sea (1972 – 1973). The last time one was officially reported as having been seen was in the southern part of Lochi Prefecture in 1979, photographed in the mouth of the Shinjo River in Susaki. Alas, that was the last photograph. The otters were then classified as “Critically Endangered” and on August 28, 2012, the Japanese river otter was officially declared extinct by the Ministry of Environment.

   

Reported to be the last photograph taken of a Japanese river otter.

Fully grown, A Japanese otter was between 25.5 and 31.5 inches long with a tail measuring 17.5 – 19.5 inches long. They had thick, luxurious fur, dark brown in color and had short, webbed and “fingered” feet and hands. Studies prior to their extinction revealed that the otters had two types of fur. They would shed their under fur from May to August and after that they would shed their guard hair from August to November, allowing them to adjust to the changing of seasons. Information obtained from past studies indicated that the otters had a lifespan of up to 25 years and historically, there were thousands of river otters in Japan.

  

 A pre-Meiji chart showing various types of kappa.

The kappa is typically depicted as roughly humanoid in form and about the size of a child, also between 25.5 and 31.5 inches long. While descriptions vary from region to region, it is sometimes described as having scaly reptilian skin. Now, an otter with a full coat, which is quite wet, shimmers and the fur can in fact look like longish, shiny scales. Kappa purportedly inhabit the ponds and rivers of Japan (typical otter habitat), and have various features to aid them in this environment, such as webbed hands (with fingers) and feet (with toes) — just like otters. They are sometimes said to smell like fish (no surprise there for anyone who knows otters) and they can swim like them as well. Again with the regional differences in descriptions of kappa, their alleged appearance has varied and has included a beak, a shell, and a plate (sara), a flat hairless region on the top of the head that is always wet. Some legends have referred to this area as actually being a bowl of sorts, containing water, which is regarded as the source of the kappa’s power. This “bowl” must be full whenever a kappa is away from the water; if it ever dries out, the kappa loses its power and may even die. I have often observed otters first hand with sea weed or various forms of water vegetation on their heads and they are known to, from time to time, balance objects are their head — for fun.

  

 North American otter balancing a rock or "bowl" on top of his head.

Now I cannot fully address the appearance of a shell but one might suspect that what were reported as kappas with shells were actually turtles of some size or tortoises. That would also explain the reported “beaks,” which are apparent particularly when a turtle pokes his head out of the water. Otter noses themselves can vary from a whitish pink to black as well as in size. I submit to you that the schnoz of an otter, depending on size and color, could be mistaken for a beak; perhaps most particularly by fishermen who have been enjoying sake during warm days of fishing.

While they are primarily water creatures, kappa do on occasion, and according to legend, venture on to land. So do otters, and while on land, both kappas and otters both are usually seen as mischievous troublemakers or tricksters. For kappas, their pranks range from the relatively innocent, such as looking up women’s kimonos, to the malevolent, such as drowning people and animals, kidnapping children, raping women and at times eating human flesh — pretty treacherous for such little guys. Not so for otters! Playful tricksters yes — malefactors no! Folk beliefs claim the cucumber as the traditional favorite meal of kappas. Otters, I will admit, are not overly fond of cucumbers and prefer fish or such kibble as Meow Mix.

  

 A kappa by Toryama Sekien, c. 1780.

It is said that kappa are curious about human civilization, as are otters. Scuba diving in Monterey Bay, I have experienced otters coming right up to me and peering through my mask, or reaching out to touch it or even me. While kayaking in the same region, considered “otter rich,” I have even had them climb up onto my boat to explore or even hitch a ride. It is also widely stated that kappa understand and speak Japanese. I think this is just a regional phenomenon as sea and river otters in California and elsewhere who have exposure to humans appear to understand to some degree or other whatever the regional language may be. They do “speak” in series of squeaks and clicks, which, with time and study, can be interpreted to mean various things. Kappa may even befriend human beings in exchange for gifts or offerings of nasu (茄子, Japanese eggplant), soba (そば or 蕎麦, buckwheat noodles), nattō (なっとう or 納豆, fermented soybeans) (there is no accounting for taste), or kabocha (カボチャ, 南瓜, winter squash), but especially cucumbers, the only food kappa are known to enjoy more than human children. While otters do not eat children and don’t seem to care for cucumbers or natto, they do enjoy and appreciate gifts of fish and with frequent exposure to humans can become quite friendly and playful.

It’s been a long time since anyone has reported seeing a kappa or an otter. Beginning in the Meiji era, the Japanese government opted for a policy of increased wealth and military strength. Otter pelts became quite valuable as a money-making export and populations declined. They did make a slight comeback after the creation of hunting regulations; but even so, as one might now expect in hindsight, pollution and human development damaged their environment; thus, the resources needed to build habitats and to obtain food. Compelled to seek adequate food sources, the otters were forced into more dangerous settings which in due course, resulted in the extinction of the Japanese river otter in the late 20^th century.

  

 A Japanese postage stamp depicting a Japanese river otter, issued in 1974.

There may be however, a glimmer of hope for the otter, and I think therefore the kappa. Throughout the 1990s there were several official attempts to locate a surviving Japanese river otter. In December of 1991 the Environmental Agency of Japan, working with the government of Kochi Prefecture, put together a research team of otter experts (not necessarily themselves experts on kappa) and began the search. It was in March of the next year that the research group discovered hair and excrement in the Kochi region believed to have come from an otter. They also located three footprints and additional ten excrement samples. An analysis of the cross-section of the hair determined that the fur did in fact come from an otter – solid scientific evidence that the Japanese river otter, and I suspect the kappa, still existed in Japan at that time.

  

 North American river otter in meditation.

So there it is and there you have it. Knowing how Japanese people love to listen to and to tell tales, and knowing how such stories can be embellished as they are told and retold, is it any wonder then that the Japanese river otter became kappa? I think not.

A FINAL ACT OF LOVE

A FINAL ACT OF LOVE

     An unusual, horrible, yet at the same time wonderful and touching, took place on the coast of Germany on January 11th — a love story of gigantic proportions with a tragic ending. One of the characteristics of whales, as we understand them, is that when a female and a male find each other and mate, it is for life — forever together, perhaps even beyond this world as it should be.

     Off the coast of Norway, a female sperm whale had a freak encounter with an old mine left over from World War II. She was badly hurt, her lungs damaged, and she sought a sandy place to rest at least, if not to pass on in peace. As she swam, her mate kept company with her, rather than continuing on with the gam or herd on their annual migration.

No, he never left her, not for one moment and when his mate beached herself, he too followed onto the shore beside her and although uninjured, stayed by her side until he also passed on.

     We know so little about whales or for that matter the other “giants” that inhabit this world with us, the elephants. Who among us knew or even imagined that these creatures were capable of such courage, compassion and devotion to one another — yes, even love? Certainly not I, although I am beginning to learn. And who among us, who regard our species as the “masters of the world” are truly capable of a similar act?

STORMS OVER JAPAN

Rain, thunderstorms, heat, and humidity continue to beleaguer Japan, bring death and destruction.

Storm clouds over Ichinokura, Gifu Prefecture.

Storm rising at Ichinokura

After the storm.

Copyright 2014 by Hayato Tokugawa and Aoi Tokugawa.  All rights reserved.

MUSEUM OF MODERN CERAMIC ART (岐阜県現代陶芸美術館)

Museum of Modern Ceramic Art (岐阜県現代陶芸美術館) ~ Higashi-machi, Tajimi City, Gifu Prefecture. It's a great place to visit. You can just sit, have a picnic, think, enjoy nature and the peace and quiet if you like. It's never crowded. And it's not far from our house! 

Copyright 2014 by Hayato Tokugawa.  All Rights reserved.

PAINTING OF A PAINTED WALL: Tajimi, Japan

A watercolor of a window featuring local cermaics, that was itself painted on the wall of a brick building in the village of Ichinokura, in the city of Tajimi, Gifu Prefecture. By Hayato Tokugawa

SAKURA FOG; By Hayato Tokugawa 03 March 2013

OSHIDORI: By Lafcadio Hearn

There was a falconer and hunter, named Sonjo, who lived in the district called Tamura-no-Go, of the province of Mutsu. One day he went out hunting, and could not find any game. But on his way home, at a place called Akanuma, he spotted a pair of oshidori[1] (mandarin ducks), swimming together in a river that he was about to cross.  To kill oshidori is not good; but Sonjo happened to be very hungry, and he shot at the pair. His arrow pierced the male: the female escaped into the rushes of the further shore, and disappeared. Sonjo took the dead bird home, and cooked it.

That night he dreamed a dismal dream. It seemed to him that a beautiful woman came into his room, stood by his pillow, and began to weep. So bitterly she wept that Sonjo felt as if his heart were being torn out as he listened.

The woman cried to him, "Why…oh!  Why did you kill him?  Of what wrong was he guilty?  At Akanuma we were so happy together…and you killed him!  What harm did he ever do you? Do you even know what you have done?  Oh!  Do you know what a cruel, what a wicked thing you have done?  Me too you have killed, for I will not live without my husband!  Only to tell you this I came."  Then again she wept aloud, so bitterly that the voice of her crying pierced into the marrow of the listener's bones.  And she sobbed out the words of this poem:

Hi kurureba

Sasoeshi mono wo

Akanuma no

Makomo no kure no

Hitori-ne zo uki!

("At the coming of twilight

I invited him to return with me!

Now to sleep alone

In the shadow of the rushes of Akanuma –

Ah!  What misery unspeakable!")[2]

      After having spoken these verses she exclaimed, "Ah, you do not know!  You cannot know what you have done!  But tomorrow, when you go to Akanuma, you will see, you will see..." So saying, and weeping very heartbreakingly, she went away.

      When Sonjo awoke in the morning, the dream remained so vivid in his mind that he was greatly troubled. He remembered the words:  "But tomorrow, when you go to Akanuma, you will see.  You will see!"  And he decided to go there immediately, so that he could learn whether his dream was anything more than a dream.

      He went to Akanuma; and there, when he came to the riverbank, he saw the female oshidori swimming alone. In the same moment, the bird saw Sonjo, but instead of trying to escape, she swam straight towards him, looking at him all the while in a strange fixed way. Then, with her beak, she suddenly tore open her own body, and died before the hunter's eyes.        

      Sonjo shaved his head, and became a priest.

---

[1] Author’s Footnote:  From ancient time, in the Far East, these birds have been regarded as emblems of conjugal affection.

[2] Author’s Footnote:  There is a pathetic double meaning in the third verse; for the syllables composing the proper name Akanuma ("Red Marsh") may also be read as akanu-ma, signifying "the time of our inseparable (or delightful) relation." So the poem can also be thus rendered:   "When the day began to fail, I had invited him to accompany me! Now, after the time of that happy relation, what misery for the one who must slumber alone in the shadow of the rushes!"  The makomo is a short of large rush, used for making baskets.

From The Annotated Kwaidan By Lafcadio Hearn, Edited and Illustrated By Hayato Tokugawa, Copyright 2009 by Shisdei-Do Publications. All rights reserved.