FOOD FOR THOUGHT FROM 1890

I was reading through Lafcadio Hearn’s Glimpses of Unfamiliar Japan, Volume II, Chapter XXVI, “The Japanese Smile,” published in 1984, and once again came upon the extracts from an essay by Viscount Tōrio. The ideas expressed in his essay were at times critical of things Western, of trends within the Meiji government Japanese society; yet, as I read through them, I began to think that there existed in his words of more than one hundred years ago, important lessons for modern Japan as well as contemporary America. I present them now, as Hearn did in his time, as if nothing else, food for thought.

Order or disorder in a nation does not depend on something that falls from the sky or rises from the earth. It is determined by the disposition of the people. The pivot on which the public disposition turns towards order or disorder is the point where public and private motives separate. If the people are influenced chiefly by public considerations, order is assured; but if by private, disorder is inevitable. Public considerations are those that prompt the proper observance of duties; their prevalence signifies peace and prosperity in the way similar to families, communities, and nations. Private considerations are those suggested by selfish motives: when they prevail, disturbance and disorder are unavoidable. As members of a family, our duty is to look after the welfare of that family; as members of a nation, our duty is to work for the good of the nation. To regard our family affairs with all the interest due to our family, and our national affairs with all the interest due to our nation, this is to fitly discharge our duty, and to be guided by public considerations. On the other hand, to regard the affairs of the nation as if they were our own family affairs, this is to be influenced by private motives and to stray from the path of duty.

Selfishness is born in every man; to indulge it freely is to become a beast; therefore, sages preach the principles of duty and propriety, justice and morality, providing restraints for private aims and encour- agements for public spirit… What we know of Western civilization is that it struggled on through long centuries in a confused condition, and finally attained a state of some order, but that even this order, not being based on such principles as those of natural and indisputable distinctions between sovereign and sub- ject, parent and child, with all their corresponding rights and duties, is liable to constant change; according to the growth of human ambitions and human aims. Admirably suited to persons whose actions are controlled by selfish ambition, the adoption of this system in Japan is naturally sought by a certain class of politicians. From a superficial point of view, the Western form of society is very attractive; in as much as, being the outcome of a free development of human desires from ancient times, it represents the very extreme of luxury and extravagance. Briefly speaking, the state of obtaining things in the West is based on the free play of human selfishness, and can only be reached by giving full sway to that quality. In the West, little notice is given to social disturbances; yet they are at once the evidence and the factors of the present evil state of affairs. Do Japanese, enamored with Western ways, propose to have their nation’s history written in similar terms? Do they seriously contemplate turning their country into a new field for experiments in Western civilization?

In the Orient, from ancient times, national gov- ernment has been based on benevolence, and directed to securing the welfare and happiness of the people. No political creed has ever held that intellectual strength should be cultivated for the purpose of exploiting inferiority and ignorance. The inhabitants of this empire live, for the most part, by manual labor. No matter how industrious they are, they hardly earn enough to supply their daily needs. They earn, on the average, about twenty sen daily. For them there is no question of aspiring to wearing fine clothes or to inhabit handsome houses. Neither can they hope to reach positions of fame and honor. What offense have these poor people committed that they also, should not share the benefits of Western civilization? Indeed, by some, their condition is explained on the hypothesis that their desires do not prompt them to better themselves. There is no truth in such a supposition. They have desires, but nature has limited their capacity to satisfy them; their duty as men limits it, and the amount of labor physically possible for a human being limits it. They achieve as much as their opportunities permit. The best and finest products of their labor they reserve for the wealthy; the worst and roughest they keep for their own use. Yet, there is nothing in human society that does not owe its existence to labor. Now, to satisfy the desires of one luxurious man, the work of a thousand is needed. Surely, it is monstrous that those who owe to labor, the pleasures suggested by their civilization, should forget what they owe to the laborer, and treat him as if he were not a fellow being. But civilization, according to the interpretation of the West, serves only to satisfy men of large desires. It is of no benefit to the masses, but is simply a system under which ambitions compete to accomplish their aims. That the Western system is gravely disturbing to the order and peace of a country is seen by men who have eyes, and heard by men who have hears. The future of Japan, under such a system, fills us with anxiety. A system, based on the principle that ethics and religion are made to serve human ambition, naturally agrees with the wishes of selfish individuals; and such theories as those, embodied in the modern formula of liberty and equality, annihilate the established relations of society, and outrange decorum and propriety. Absolute equality and absolute liberty being unattainable, the limits prescribed by right and duty are supposed to be set. But as each person seeks to have as much right and to be burdened with as little duty as possible, the results are endless disputes and legal contentions. The principles of liberty and equality may succeed in changing the organization of nations, in overthrowing the lawful distinctions of social rank, in reducing all men to one nominal level; but they can never accomplish the equal distribution of wealth and property. Consider America…It is plain that if the mutual rights of men and their status are made to depend on degrees of wealth, the majority of the people, being without wealth, must fail to establish their rights; whereas the minority who are wealthy, will assert their rights; and, under society’s sanction, will exact oppressive duties from the poor; neglecting the dictates of humanity and benevolence. The adoption of these principles of liberty and equality in Japan would annul the good and peaceful customs of our country, render the general disposition of the people harsh and unfeeling, and finally prove to be a source of calamity to the masses…

Though at first sight, Western civilization presents an attractive appearance, adapted as it is to the gratification of selfish desires; yet, since its basis is the hypothesis that men’s wishes constitute natural laws, it must ultimately end in disappointment and de- moralization. Western nations have become what they are after passing through conflicts and deviations of the most serious kind; and it is their fate to continue the struggle. Just now, their motive elements are in partial equilibrium, and their social condition is more or less ordered. But if this slight equilibrium happens to be disturbed, they will be thrown once more into confusion, and change; until, after a period of renewed struggle and suffering, temporary stability is once more attained. The poor and powerless of the present may become the wealthy and strong of the future, and vice versa. Perpetual disturbance is their doom. Peaceful equality can never be attained until built up among the ruins of annihilated Western states and the ashes of extinct Western people.

 

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 Author’s Footnote: These extracts from a translation of the Japan Daily Mail, November 19, 20, 1890, of Viscount Tōrio’s famous conservative essay do not give a fair idea of the force and logic of the whole. The essay is too long to quote entirely; and any extracts from the Mail’s admirable translation suffer by their isolation from the singular claims of ethical, religious, and philosophical reasoning, which bind the various parts of the composition together. The essay was furthermore remarkable as the production of a native scholar, totally uninfluenced by Western thought. He correctly predicted those social and political disturbances which have occurred in Japan since the opening of the new parliament. Viscount Tōrio is also well known as a master of Buddhist philosophy. He holds a high rank in the Japanese army.

KINDNESSES UNEXPECTED

Kindnesses Unexpected

In 1891, Lafcadio Hearn made a voyage to the Oki Islands or Oki-shotō (隠岐諸島), a group of volcanic, one hundred miles west off the western coast from Izumo and Shimane Prefecture. As he put it, “Not even a missionary had ever been to Oki, and its shores had never been seen by European eyes, except on those rare occasions when men-of-war steamed by them, cruising about the Japanese Sea.” It was here that he experienced some not-so-small kindesses and surprises.

“On the morning of the day after my arrival at Saito, a young physician called to see me, and requested me to dine with him at his house. He explained very frankly that, as I was the first foreigner who had ever stopped in Saigo, it would bring much pleasure both to his family and to himself to have a good chance to see me; however, the natural courtesy of the man overcame any hesitation I might have felt to gratify the curiosity of strangers. I was not only treated delightfully at his beautiful home, but actually sent away with presents; most of which I attempted, in vain, to decline. In one matter, however, I remained obstinate, even at the risk of offending: the gift of a wonderful specimen of bateiseki (a substance which I shall speak of later). This I persisted in refusing to take, knowing it to be not only very costly, but very rare. My host at last yielded; but afterwards, secretly sent two smaller specimens to the hotel, which Japanese etiquette made it impossible to return. Before leaving Saigo, I experienced many other unexpected kindnesses from the same gentleman.

“Not long after, one of the teachers of the Saigo public school paid me a visit. He had heard of my interest in Oki, and brought with him two fine maps of the islands made by him, a little book about Saigo, and as a gift, a collection of Oki butterflies and insects that he had also made. It is only in Japan that one is likely to meet with these wonderful exhibitions of pure goodness on the part of perfect strangers.

“A third visitor, who had called to see my friend, performed an act equally characteristic, but which also pained me. We squatted down to smoke together. He drew from his obi a remarkably beautiful tobacco pouch and pipe case, containing a little silver pipe, which he began to smoke. The pipe case was made of a sort of black coral, curiously carved, and attached to the tabako-iré, or pouch, by a heavy cord of three colors of braided silk, passed through a ball of transparent agate. Seeing me admire it, he suddenly drew a knife from his sleeve, and before I could stop him, severed the pipe case from the pouch and presented it to me. I felt almost as if he had cut one of his own nerves apart when he cut that wonderful cord; and nevertheless, once this had been done, to refuse the gift would have been rude in the extreme. I made him accept a present in return; but after that experience, I was careful never again, while in Oki, to admire anything in the presence of its owner.”

Even now in the 21^st century, if one will take the time to meet people, and to experience the true Japan, he too is bound to experience such amazing kindness, which seems so lacking elsewhere in the world.

*Print by Mishima Shoso (1856 - 1926) titled Sparrow Grand-pa (c. 1900) illustrating a Japanese folktale about an honorable old man who rescued a sparrow (suzume). Later, he was invited to the village of sparrows and given a box of gifts.

CHA-DO: It's Not Just For Ladies Anymore!

Even during the Meiji Era, the Era of Enlightened Rule, it was required, pre-marriage training for women. In the preceding Tokugawa Period, its study was encouraged among samurai and its practice the mark of a cultured gentleman. In the current Heisei Era, the time of Emperor Akihito it is becoming a much-sought out weapon in Japan’s war on stress. It is Cha-no-yu, Cha-Dō: the tea ceremony.

Throughout Japan, on any evening, and particularly on weekends, you may find Japanese men, business men, merchants, engineers, academics, gathered together in suburban tea houses, wearing kimono, hakama, and haori, to immerse themselves in traditional Japanese culture and in particular, this traditional Japanese art, as a means of shedding off the stress and strain of modern life. How? With what would be termed in the West as a “tea party.”

On any evening at the Urasenke School of Tea, one can find an ever increasing number of Japanese men studying the traditions and art of tea; indeed, on some evenings the number of male pupils (largely men over 40) outnumbers women. Japanese people, regardless of age or gender, are rediscovering the beauty and emotional calming effects of Cha-Dō, as a transcendental interlude, a time of peace and re-focusing one’s life. Numerous magazines have recently produced articles, even special “tea” editions, which were quickly sold out as Japan discovers that “new” is not always better and the old ways, tradition, can have a place of significance in the life of the modern Japanese man.

“Cha…it’s not just for ladies anymore!”

THOUGHTS FROM A TAKAYAMA ROOFTOP: Musings on a View of History

Musings on a View of History

kishamichi ni
hikuku kari tobu
tsukiyo kana

low over the railroad
wild geese flying –
a moonlight night

-Shiki

The warm days of summer are now gone and the soft, gentle breeze that drifted through the open doors of my study and rustled the papers on my desk has grown teeth. In summer, it would make its way through this old “samurai house,” blending indoors with out, lending a certain tenderness and ease to life. Today, sweater replaces yukata, iced tea is now traded for steaming coffee. Last night the wind shook the closed shutters over our doors and windows, as though demanding entry: equal time with the zephyrs of mid-year. Now our warmth comes from the electric heater and the fire which crackles and snaps from the pit in the main tatami room, on which rides the smoky incense of oak rather than the perfume of flowers and fresh grass.

As I look through the sliding glass door of my refuge, filled with the volumes of Japan past which stir my imagination and answer my questions, only then give birth to new queries, I can see the cats at play in the garden; enjoying the day in their newly fluffed coats. The old puss perches high up on the gate, surveying her domain, as though she is some ancient daimyō watching over her han (domain). The two young ones dart here and there; games of hide-and-seek or perhaps imagining themselves as tigers in the wild; hiding in the now brown grass; waiting for some elusive prey to venture too close to their place of cover. Occasionally one cat ventures out to the edge of the pond and looks in. Yes, the koi are all still there in their places. Then he’s off again to pounce on his preoccupied sibling who just found a mouse. All too soon, the pond will be covered with ice, the ground will be blanketed in snow, and the garden mice will be safe in their nests below the porch.

One cannot help but to smile a bit at the moment, and then I look at the volumes of history that line the walls of my room and think about autumns long ago. Did Tokugawa Ieyasu look out his window at Edo Castle, or later at Sanpu in Suruga, and see similar scenes? Some might say no, he was without doubt too busy plotting and scheming. I think he did see such things and probably thought deeply upon them in his later years. Nevertheless, that is a difference in the viewing of history.



History is merely an attempt to write about events that belong to the past. What is written depends on documents: manuscripts, essays, and articles from the period being written about. Modern-day topics and events are often regarded as being too ordinary and thus, unworthy of documentation except as television newsbytes or a few short columns in a newspaper.
I often find myself wondering how historians, perhaps two or three centuries from now, will regard the last few years, and especially this year of 2009, in viewing Japan or the United States. Will they describe 2009 as a year when America began to once again find direction and to re-assume a position of world leadership, this time for the betterment of the world in general and in particular for its own citizens; or, will they perhaps hold 2009 up as enduring evidence that a once great notion grew too big to sustain itself and its ideals, and in the end failed?

Will they say that Japan continued its socio-political decline, and that its culture continued to erode, giving way to the forces of globalization, just as a beach is consumed by the waves of an approaching typhoon, or will they perhaps say that 2009 was a year when Japan, at last, broke free from the miasma from which it suffered, beginning at the end of World War II? Did Japan at last find its feet and stand up to demand equity with the United States among the nations of the world and cast off its acquiescence to Western domination?

Recently I wrote a short essay on the topic of Bushidō and its core. The article, much to my delight, stirred more than a little controversy and debate, which in itself, was a very good thing; for in my mind, such writing has little point unless it stirs thought and stimulates discussion. The essay and resulting commentary became the subject of conversations among myself and other Japanese with a more than passing interest in Japanese culture and history. Some were outraged by the views expressed by a group from the San Francisco Bay Area: others were simply dismayed. More than one comment was made that they should “admit their shame and end their life.” The comment was also made that some, whose samurai heritage had been insulted, would be more than willing to assist the group in the called for acts of seppuku. Some may indeed by surprised that one’s samurai heritage can be insulted, more than one hundred and forty years after the conclusion (note I did not say fall) of the Tokugawa Era. Most Japanese, even those who we might term as “liberals” are far more conservative than their American liberal cousins are. Most Japanese still attach great significance to their family histories: their clans and their samurai heritage. That is being Japanese.

Certainly, the group, Asians Art Museum, which parodies the San Francisco Asian Art Museum, has every right to express their views and opinions; indeed, I encourage it. Yet, the Japanese who read it and expressed their opinions to me, felt that the group’s views were tainted, that there was a certain “agenda” not too well hidden beneath their words: expressions marked with an irony that does not translate to Japanese thought. Among the Japanese students of Japanese history, none of my associates regard themselves as scholars but simply as students, sincehistory is an unending process of study and analysis– a process we often engage in over coffee, tea, sake and snacks (we try to do things with a bit of flair), the view was frequently expressed that aspiring or pseudo-historians tend to notice or to select records which match their own pre-conceptions of the past and support (or can be bent to support) their own personal, revisionist agendas; that is, they have an ax to grind.






Certainly there exits confusion about the complexities of Japanese history, even among Japanese. In this particular case, however, we have Western historians giving interpretation to Japanese history. In the West, modern historians still are greatly influenced by 18th century theories of history and long-past Age of Enlightenment in Europe. They still regard the European medieval age as the “dark ages” and as a corollary, the age of Japanese feudalism: cruel, dark, dismal. Certainly some Japanese historians and intellectuals (such as Nitobé Inazo) are equally as guilty of this view, having themselves imported ideals of Western feudalism and overlaying them on unique, Japanese concepts. Add to that a certain taint of Marxism interlaced with the American penchant for political correctness, and the overall result becomes skewed. A result is the compartmentalization of Japanese history into Japan’s “Classical Era,” Japan’s “Feudal Era” or Dark Ages, and the Modern or “Post-Tokugawa Era”, when it is far more complex than that. This tends to perpetuate the selective (and often simplistic) reporting of history: ignoring the complexities of Japanese history, which can be likened to the weaving of some fine tapestry.

Nevertheless, the overall result of the discussions was twofold. First, that certainly, everyone should be free to express their thoughts and opinions, even though it may lack wisdom or good manners – expression is essential. The second conclusion was that Japanese history and its interpretation should be left to Japanese, since the West is not equipped to understand and appreciate Japanese thought and the depth of Japanese culture and the intricacies of its history.

(To be continued)

-Tokugawa H.

Copyright 2009 by H. Tokugawa and Shisei-Do Publications. All rights reserved.

Sakura and Samurai

THOUGHTS FROM A TAKAYAMA ROOFTOP:

Some thoughts by Aoi Tokugawa-sensei on

Japanese Thought, Samurai, and Bushido.

I think of history as a series of lines, not dots. Many of the small things, the small day-to-day things that occurred maybe be regarded as dots, for example a fire, a storm, a flood; but not the major events (a war, a coup, a regime change, etc.). These things are connected to other events of the past with a straight line. The same can be said of the history of thought.

The evolution of thought definitely occurs at the various turning points in the history.
It does not pop into the mind as if God’s own voice. In order for thought to spread through society, it requires a background that people can accept. For example:

Why didn’t European Chivalry take root in Japan?
Why didn’t Islam religion take root in Japan?

I have never seen a Japanese who perform prayers five times in a day and abstain from food, nor do we accept Muslim dogma. Why? Because we Japanese have no background, no history which would permit us to accept it.

The “background” I mention could be anything from a shared history (and shared experiences) to a shared culture (shared thought, aesthetics, character). It could possibly extend to a shared DNA: Japanese DNA inherited from our ancestors – the ancient Japanese. Much of what we are is carried in our DNA; however, this is not something unique to Japanese but common to all the people in the world. No one completely understands the evolution of DNA or how national and social characteristics are passed along, but it would seem that they are. It is part of what makes a Japanese, Japanese, and all Japanese thinking, our viewpoint of the world and ourselves come, in part, from it.

Why do Japanese love Sakura? Because we are Japanese. That is all that needs to be said.

Samurai and Kamikaze pilots must have seen their life in Sakura. Yet, there are people who think that the Sakura is an icon of militarism. Certainly there is a relationship between Sakura and militarism: it is true so I won’t try to deny it. However, for the majority, when we see Sakura, everyone senses its beauty. No one thinks, “Oh! Militarism has blossomed. Oh! Sakura is terrible!”

What I want to discuss in this blog, in the future, is Japanese thought. But do not be too concerned, as I will not harp on the matter of DNA as I mentioned briefly above – it is too difficult a topic for most people, including myself.

The thought has form but no form; we cannot touch it or hold it, but the form reveals itself in human’s behavior.

When it comes to the Japanese thought, the first thing that comes to mind is Bushido.

“Loyality” exists in Bushido thinking as a major principle. Did every samurai obey it? The answer is no. The actual, historical samurai is different from the popular image of samurai (cool and gentlemanly); an image we receive from movies and literature. Because the historical samurai is different from the “pop” samurai, some are inclined to say that Loyalty was a quality that didn’t exist in samurai.

They felt hunger, they felt pain when a sword cut them; and to die, was terrible. Some of them hated even the thought of hari-kiri: “No, no, I don’t want to die that way!”
The existence of such samurai is to be expected, because they were human beings: not supermen. A few were even brats; yet aside from them, we can see the form of Loyalty in the good, ethical behavior of the samurai.

Thanks to Nitobe Inazo and his book on Bushido and the film The Last Samurai, I think everyone has a bit of knowledge now about Bushido and the Hagakure. However, few seem to know about Shido, which is vastly different from Bushido as described by Nitobe or in the Hagakure.

Shido was born as Japan became peaceful society during the Edo Period, parented by such men as Soko Yamaga, Sorai Ogyu who were Confucians. How is Shido different from Bushido? Let me show you a bit of the difference through example.

In the film The Last Samurai, there are lines of dialog that clearly illustrate Shido. In one of the last scenes of the film, after the death of Katsumoto (Ken Wtanabe) in battle against the government forces lead by the Meiji Era oligarch, Omura; the central character Algren (Tom Cruise) has an audience with Emperor Meiji and presents him with Katsumoto’s sword.

“Tell me how he (Katsumoto) died,” said the Emperor.

“I will tell you how he lived,” answered Algren.

Here then, in these two lines,is the difference between Bushido and Shido, layed out for us. How to die is Bushido. How to live is Shido. It is said that Bushido is the philosophy of death; Shido is the philosophy of life.

There are those who regard Shido (those who even know of it) as the opposite extreme of Bushido; yet, I disagree. Bushido and Shido are bound together by the same core of thought: To die with honor, one must live with honor. As one lives honorably, one may then die honorably, just as the cherry blossom (Sakura).

There were many samurai who based their lives on the principles of Shido; such as Byako-tai, the men of the Shinsengumi, the 47 Ronin. In simple terms, they were the personification of loyalty and products of loyalty.

Later, I will tell you of the 47-Ronin and through their thoughts and behavior, I believe we will be able to see and better understand Japanese thought and Shido. We might even talk more about Japanese DNA!

*There are many terms in the Japanese language and thus in Japanese history which are difficult to translate into English. I will use the Japanese words and then attempt to explain their meanings and concepts to the reader. Also, please bear in mind that this is not an academic paper, but simply my thoughts, my blog, so I will write it in my own, humble style.

Emotions and Forms: Uniquely Japanese

Emotions and Forms: Uniquely Japanese

Much of my formal education and training had been in science and law; both disciplines based upon logic. As I grew older, and hopefully wiser, and as a student of traditional Japanese Budō and Bushidō, I began to read and study about the Japan of past days; and as I experienced life in Japan, not only in the dojo but in the small towns and villages, away from the cities, I began to think about such Japanese things as jōcho (emotion) and katachi (forms of behavior). People took tradition seriously. They often enjoyed dressing in kimono; they enjoyed eating together as a family, gathered around a low table in the living area of a simple home. People who were too loud or boisterous were given a cold shoulder. I witnessed Japanese unspoken communication and personality projection. Away from the cities, the national character was entirely different. Customs and traditions, sincerity and humor, were considered of much greater value than the logic I had learned and trained in at school. Of course there were some people who clamored for “more”, “more is better”, “modern is better”; yet, those who shouted for more reform to the modern ways, were discreetly criticized by the elders as “lacking a proper sense of humor.”

I began to realize that, yes indeed, logic had its place, but aesthetics, emotions and forms of behavior could be equally important if not more; things uniquely Japanese. When I mention “aesthetics,” I am speaking of such things as nihonjin no shizenkan, the concept of nature. When I say “emotion,” I am not speaking feelings such as joy, anger, sympathy, sadness or happiness, which we learn about in school and which we all experience naturally; I am refereeing instead to emotions that are cultivated through cultural experience; such emotions as natsukashisa, a sense of yearning for the lost, an mono no aware, an awareness of the pathos of things. By “forms,” I mean the code of conduct that has been with us for centuries, derived from Bushidō, the samurai code of ethics.

When considered together, these are the things that make Japan and the Japanese special, unique in the world. Just as Nitobé Inazo pointed out that Bushidō was the foundation of Japan’s national character, so also are these others. Even as far back as the Meiji Restoration, both emotions and forms of behavior began to go into a gradual, imperceptible decline. The rate of decline was accelerated in the Showa Era and sustained extensive deterioration after World War II, as the country suffered from Americanization and free market principles which reached deep into the Japanese heart to exert their influence on Japanese society, culture and its character as a nation. Even the Japanese educational system, has served to erode the Japanese pride and confidence in their country, largely at the hands of revisionist politicians and historians. People, particularly in the cities began to forget those things that were the country’s traditional emotions and forms of behavior, the things that should have given them the pride to be uniquely Japanese. Instead, the country falls prey to the logic and reasoning of the West and the decline continues through a process of globalization, which is nothing more than an attempt at making the world homogenous. Japan must find the means to realize and preserve its individuality and to recapture its simplicity in living, its emotions, and its forms; thus, remaining forever, uniquely Japan.

Ten Kinds of Simplicity

Ten Kinds of Simplicity

Although the attraction toward more simple ways of living a strong for some, the attraction for the opposite can be equally as strong for others. It would seem that many people are not giving even cursory consideration to more simplicity in their lives because they see it as too great a sacrifice. Instead, they seek deeper resources of satisfaction that they perceive can be found in a consumerist life-style, one which in the long-term brings higher stress and fewer true rewards. In Japan until the recent recession, the percentage of the population reporting that they were very happy remained relatively unchanged: roughly 33%. At the same time however, divorce rates doubled and suicides have tripled. An entire generation tasted the fruits of an affluent society and is now discovering that money does not buy happiness. The present recession presents a special opportunity to take a new course in one’s life: to pull back from the rat race and move into a life that is, although materially more modest, rich with family, friends, community, creativity, and service.

To present a more realistic representation of the extent and expression of a simpler life-style for today’s complex society, here are ten different approaches to consider. Although they may overlap a bit, each expression of simplicity seems distinct enough to merit a separate category.

Simplicity by Choice

Simplicity means choosing a path through life consciously, deliberately and as a matter of one’s own choice. As a path or “way” that places emphasis on freedom, the choice of simplicity also means staying focused and not being distracted by the consumer culture. It means consciously organizing one’s life so that they can give their true personal gifts to the world: the essence of ourselves.

Commercial Simplicity

A more simplistic life would mean that there is then a more rapidly growing personal market for healthy and sustainable products and services of all kinds; from home design, building materials and energy systems to food. There exists the potential for an enormous expansion of conscious economic activity toward sustainability.

Compassionate Simplicity

With simplicity in one’s life can come a kinship, a bond with the community and a desire for reconciliation, even with other species as well as a strong desire to be of true service to others and a stronger desire for cooperation and fairness, which seeks a future which is beneficial to all and decreases the gap rich and poor.

Ecological Simplicity

Simplicity mans to choose ways of living that tread far more lightly on the earth, reducing one’s “ecological footprint.” An ecological simplicity brings with it a deep interconnection with all life and a consciousness of threats to its well-being (such as climate change, species extinction and resource depletion) coupled with a desire to do something about it. Ecological simplicity cultivates a type of “natural capitalism:” economic practices that value the importance of natural ecosystems and which can impact the community in terms of its health and productivity.

Elegant Simplicity

Simplicity can mean that the way one lives their life represents a work of unfolding artistry. It is an understated aesthetic that contrasts with the excess of consumerist lifestyles. Drawing on the influence of Zen, Confucianism, and Taoism, it celebrates natural materials and clean, functional expressions of simplicity found in the hand-made arts and crafts from the community.

Frugal Simplicity

By cutting back on spending that is not truly serving one’s life, and by practicing skillful management of one’s personal finances, one can achieve greater financial independence. Frugality and careful financial management bring increased financial freedom and the opportunity to more consciously choose one’s path through life. Living with less also decreases the impact of our consumption on the earth and frees resources for others.

Natural Simplicity

Simplicity in one’s life can signify a remembrance and reconnection to one’s deep roots in the natural world. It means to experience one’s connection with the ecology of life in which one lives and to balance their experience of the man-made environments with time in nature. It means to celebrate the experience of living through the seasons.

Political Simplicity

Simplicity means to organize one’s life in ways that enable people to life more lightly and sustainability, which in turn, involves changes to the life of the community: from transportation and education to the design of our homes, town, and workplaces. Such can also be a media politic because mass media can be the primary way to reinforce or transform the community’s awareness of consumerism. Political simplicity is a politic of conversations within the community that builds local, face-to-face connections: networks of relationships, which enable others to make conscious decisions about change in their lives as well.

Spiritual Simplicity

One may approach life as a meditation and cultivate their experience of intimate connections with all that exits around us: plants, animals, friends, and neighbors. Spiritual simplicity is more concerned with consciously enjoying life in its unadorned richness rather than with any particular standard or manner of material living. By cultivating a spiritual connection with life, one tends to look beyond surface appearances and to bring their inner self into relationships of all kinds.

Uncluttered Simplicity

To live an uncluttered life means to take charge of a life that is too busy, too stressed and too fragmented. It means cutting back on inconsequential distractions and focusing on the essentials, whatever those may be for each unique life.

SAMURAI FIGHT

SAMURAI FIGHT (c. 1890)

(Artist Unidentified)

A riot - bands of samurai fighting in a snowy street in Edo as innocent citizens flee to safety.

Manners Lesson

Manners Lesson

Gray beard walks in peace

Youths want to bully –

Painful manners taught

From an incident of yesterday's morning walk. There is not always strength in numbers and the old are not always weak. There are always surprises! Yet, I also failed by my response. Today my harmony is now restored.

BUSHIDO LESSON: ON ONE'S OWN DEATH

On One's Own Death

One who follows Bushido believes that it is of prime importance to keep their death in mind at all times. This means every day, every night: from New Year’s Day morning until New Year’s Eve night.

If one keeps their own death in mind at all times, and by this I mean an awareness or consciousness of ones own death (but not to the point of obsession) one will always be able to fulfill the needs of loyalty and family duties. With this “consciousness” one can also then avoid a myriad of evils, calamities, and hardships. One is likely to be more physically sound and healthy; thus, they may actually have a longer life. An additional benefit is likely to be that one’s character will improve and they will grow in virtue.
You may well ask, “Why?” All life, including human life, can be likened to the evening dew or to a morning frost; that is, life is something that is indeed quite fragile and ephemeral. This is true of anyone’s life, no matter what his or her station in life may be.
If a person blinds themselves to the inevitability of their own death, that is, if they take comfort in the belief that they will live a long time, that they will live “forever,” it may indeed be possible that something will happen to them. They may think that they have “forever” to do their work and to take care of their families. Because of this belief that “tomorrow will never come,” they may well feel that it is not necessary to work hard or to tend to their families with less care and intensity.

If one realizes that the life that is here today may not be here tomorrow, then when one is given a task by their employers or when they look at their families, they may have the sense to realize that “this could be the last time.” In doing so, one cannot help but to become more attentive to their work and to their family.

Be that as it may, if one unmindful of death and thus becomes careless or inattentive, they will have a tendency to be less cautious and careful in their lives. For example, one may be more inclined to say something that is offensive to another and get into an argument, which could itself lead to any number of consequences. One might find themselves in places or in situations that they perhaps would not have otherwise gotten into, again with any number of consequences for themselves or for those around them or for their employer, parents, siblings, or children. The consequences of our actions can have far reaching results sometimes, results that perhaps should have been easily avoided, had one kept in mind their own mortality.

With one’s own transience in mind, when one speaks and in replying to what is said by others, one is more likely to understand the substance and significance of every word. One will be less likely then to engage in pointless arguments.

People from all economic and social groups tend to excess, that is, they overeat, they tend to drink too much, and they indulge in their desires to a harmful degree, all because they give not even a small thought about their own death. This kind of behavior, this kind of “lifestyle,” over time can put a strain on their bodies. As a result, there is every possibility of their dying at a younger age or at the least, becoming sickly and weak. With the potential of one’s own death in mind, even if one is young and healthy, they will automatically know how to take care of themselves. They will be moderate and be mindful of food and drink, avoid addictions, and are more likely to be more sensible. The result is that they will tend to remain healthy and to increase the opportunity for a longer life.

On the assumption that one will “live forever” or that their passing is so far into the future so as to not be worth consideration, one will be likely to develop a money-oriented or acquisitive mentality. That is to say, they will have a tendency to become more desirous of things, cling to their possessions, and to desire more. When one realizes that life may be very short indeed, greediness, acquisitiveness, and materialism weakens and thus the character improves.

How does one keep death in mind? Well, certainly it is illogical and therefore wrong for one to simply sit there and wait for death, or for one to become obsessed with it. This may be all well and good for a monk but with such a mindset, one cannot function or survive in the modern world. To regard one’s death in that way is to turn one’s back on their duties to themselves, their families and to their employers and it defeats the entire purpose of thinking about it at all.

The idea is for one to go about their duties every day, and at some time when their mind is free of distraction, to give some thought to the transience of their existence. Perhaps, in the morning, before going out and about they duties is a good time to give thought to this matter, for the thought of life’s fragility will stay in their mind for the entire day. Perhaps also at night, before retiring, is another good time for such thoughts. Think about the day just past and recall everything that ha happened. Ask yourself questions.

“Did I do well today?” The answer will be either “yes” or “no.” “If I have another day to live, can I do better?” The answer will always be “yes.” And as your eyes close at the end of that day, take that thought with you and bring it on to the next.

BUSHIDO LESSON: RIGHT AND

RIGHT AND WRONG

As long as it is both realized as well as accepted that people must comprehend right and wrong, and in doing so strive to do right and to avoid wrong, then Bushido is alive.

“Right and wrong” means the same as “good and evil.” Right is good, wrong is evil. It is that simple. Generally, people are not totally lacking in an understanding of good and evil, right and wrong; however, they find it rather boring and tedious to act rightly and to strive for decency and integrity. Acting wrongly and behaving badly is “fun” and it is familiar (it seems more so now than in earlier days) so people can drift toward things that are wrong and bad. Indeed, it becomes rather dull for them to do right and to cultivate good.

A person who is truly insane, or a person who has never developed a proper capacity for thought and reason cannot distinguish good and bad or right and wrong so they should not be included in this discussion. Once one has determined something to be wrong or bad, to avoid social demands and justice and do what is wrong is not the proper attitude for a follower of Bushido and it is the “high point” of the immaturity of our modern times. This can be attributed to a lack of inner strength and perseverance in people.

It is really and truly important for one to be aware of wrong and to seek right.

There are three ways of doing right. For example, suppose you are going somewhere with a friend who has a large sum of money with him, and he asks to leave it at your house until he returns, rather than carry it with him. And suppose you take this money for him and put it away where no one can find it. And suppose further that your friend suddenly dies and no one but yourself knows that he left the money at your house and no one knows that you have it.

Under these circumstances, if you have no thought other than sorrow at the loss of your friend and you tell his relatives of the money and give it to them without delay, then you can be said to have truly done right.

But, suppose also that instead of being a friend, the person was simply a casual acquaintance and no one knows about the money he left with you and there are likely to be no questions asked about it. And suppose further that you are in bad circumstances financially yourself at that time. Well, on one hand this might seem like a stroke of luck! Why not just keep quiet about it and keep the money for yourself?

If one finds themfself ashamed to find such a thought occurring to them, and they change their mind and return the money to the rightful heirs, then one could be said to have done right out of a sense of shame.

Now, suppose that someone in your home, perhaps your wife or child, knows about the money and suppose further that you return the money to the rightful heirs out of shame for any possible recriminations from your family and perhaps out of fear for the legal consequences. In this case you could be said to have done right out of shame in relation to others.

Ah, but what would you do if no one knew about it at all? Even in such a case, it could still hardly be said that you were not a man who knew what is right and does it.

The process of developing the habit of doing right begins with the fear of being disrespected by those close to you, starting with your family. It then advances to refraining from doing wrong and intentionally doing the right thing out of fear of laying yourself open to the shame of being criticized and ridiculed by the community or society you live in. If you do this, it will naturally become habitual, so eventually you develop a mentality that prefers to follow what is right and scorns doing wrong.

Within the context of military matters (which might be seen as a metaphor for modern business life) there are those who are born brave and are not deterred by attacks on the battlefield, no matter how intense. They make targets of themselves, framed between loyalty and duty. The courage of their spirit can show physically so that it goes without saying that they were splendid in action.

There are also those who are hesitant in the face of danger and their hearts are pounding and their knees tremble, yet they go forward, right along with the brave ones, in the realization that their comrades will see them if they remain behind and thus are determined not to expose themselves to derision later on. Although they are not the same as the “brave ones”, when they have gone through this several times, over and over again, they become used to it. Eventually their minds settle and they become praiseworthy, strong and firm, and in the end, not so different at all from those who are naturally brave.

So then, when it comes down to doing what is right and to being courageous, there is nothing to go on but a sense of shame. If you do wrong and are unconcerned for its consequences or that people will say it is wrong, or if you care nothing that people will despise your for your spinelessness, then there is nothing that anyone can teach you.

Swordman - Dai Chikamatsu Zenshu

Swordman - Dai Chikamatsu Zenshu

I came across this ukiyo-e today and thought that I would share it with everyone. It is by Yamaguchi Sohei and dates to about 1923 to 1926. What I find rather striking about this print is the expression on the samurai's face - not the fierce look or even glee that one would see in an old movie with Mifune Toshiro, but something else - anguish, horror? What do you think?

(First published 2006.09.14.)

THOUGHTS FROM A TAKAYAMA ROOFTOP: Is Globalization Changing Japan (Part 2)

IS GLOBALIZATION CHANGING JAPAN (PART 2)

The book everyone was talking about last month at the first World Economic Forum (WEF) ever held in Tokyo was not Thomas Friedman's The World Is Flat, or some other volume on globalization. It was a slim Japanese volume called The Dignity of a State. Written by mathematician Masahiko Fujiwara, the book is seemingly a longing call to return to ancient Japanese virtues. But it's also a sharp, angry outburst that blames free markets for a wide assortment of Japan's and the world's woes. "Globalism," Fujiwara writes, "is merely a strategy of the U.S. that seeks world domination after the Cold War." The author also calls the market economy "a system that clearly divides the society into a minority of winners and a majority of losers." WEF members, most of them advocates of free markets and open economies, might want to reject Fujiwara as part of the radical fringe of vocal anti-globalization protesters. But the book has touched a nerve in Japan, where many feel economic reforms are destroying the country's egalitarianism, creating a nation of haves and have-nots.

The Dignity of a State has sold 2 million copies since last November, making it Japan's second best-selling title of 2006. (It trails only the latest Harry Potter installment). A grassroots backlash against reform in the world's second largest economy is worrying to some WEF delegates. "This book's popularity is not a positive development," says Charles D. Lake II, vice chairman of AFLAC Insurance in Japan. But it is an important one. Despite Japan's much-heralded success in modernizing its economy, the fact remains that a large segment of Japanese society loathes the way things are heading.

In summary:

“Globalism,” Fujiwara writes, “Is merely a strategy of the U.S. that seeks world domination after the Cold War.” The author also calls the market economy “a system that clearly divides the society into a minority of winners and a majority of losers.” According to Time Magazine, the book’s popularity is fed by a popular response in Japan that sympathizes with the notion that “economic reforms are destroying the country’s social equality, creating a nation of “haves” and “have- nots".

Another review of the book says that according to the author, Japan’s distinguishing “national character” is a set of behavior standards based on the spirit of Bushido, the samurai code of honor. That spirit, he writes, was shattered by Japan’s defeat in World War II and completely abandoned after the collapse of the assist-inflated “bubble economy of the 1990s. Japanese society is now set to fall into ruin, the author continues. Ideas that Japan eagerly accepted along with “Americanization,” such things as the market –oriented principle of economics, do not offer a solution to the problems facing the nation. Rather, emotion and empathy form the basis of Japanese civilization and Bushido is the core of ethics. Japan should not aim to be a universal country, but a unique and dignified one.

According to what I have been able to read about Fujiwara-san and his book, he believes that Japan should return to Bushido because capitalism has destroyed Japan. As usual (I guess he is referring to Tokugawa and Meiji eras), “evil foreign devils” and their ideas have damaged the purity of Japan and the Japanese people.

I would be very interested to get anyone’s opinion on this topic, especially if you are familiar with this book and have similar or differing viewpoints.

SAMURAI ARMOR

Samurai Armor

A modern ukiyo-e print showing samurai full armor and decorative helmet, by Tokuriki Tomikichiro (1902-1999). The print itself is dated about 1950. Tomikichiro Tokuriki was one of the members of the Sosaku Hanga movement. He was born in Kyoto where he attended the School of Fine Arts and Crafts. After World War II he established his own publishing company, Matsukyo Publishing Company. Tomikichiro Tokuriki was a passionate Sosaku Hanga printmaker. However he earned his living with prints in Shin Hanga style. Today everybody knows him for the Shin Hanga style prints published by Uchida and Unsodo

A LESSON IN BUSHIDO: OUR DUTIES TO OUR PARTENTS, PART II

Our Duties To Our Parents, Part II

When a person who has embraced the spirit of Bushido takes on an employer; that is, he becomes an employee of a person or company, he will understand the requirements of loyalty and of duty in that position. When such a person’s employer or business is successful and perhaps even thriving, that is taken for granted. It should also be so that when something happens to his employer or company (perhaps there are all sorts of serious problems) that person is still fiercely loyal and does not leave his employer, even when 100 co-workers, or friends and associates of the employer are reduced to ten and then perhaps even to one,

Parents and employers, duty to family and loyalty to employer – these things differ in name only. There truly should be no difference in the genuineness of the heart. It was said long ago, “ Look for loyal ministers in homes with filial sons.” There is no such thing as someone who is on one hand disrespectful to his parents and yet on the other, is faithful to his employer. It cannot be. If someone is so immature as to be neglectful in care and respect for his family, who are the very origin of his or her existence, there is no way that he can be moved by the kindness of an employer, who is not his own flesh and blood, and be completely loyal.

If a man who is not caring toward his parents at home goes out and goes to work for someone, he will keep his eyes on his employer’s balance sheet and as soon as he sees a little slip, his attitude will change. In an emergency, he will flee or turn traitor. It has always been so and yet, this is something to be ashamed of and something that we all must be wary of.

A Lesson In Bushido: Our Duties to Our Parent, Part I.

A Lesson in Bushido

Our Duties to Our Parents, Part I

05.16.06.

For a person who follows Bushido, the taking good care of one’s parents is fundamental. If people do not care for their parents, they are lacking in principle, even if they are exceptionally smart, talented, well spoken, and good looking. That is to say, a person may have many of the blessings and gifts of life, but if that person does not take care of their parents, all that amounts to nothing.

Allow me to explain. In Bushido, it is essential to do things right and to do things completely: from the root to the branch so to speak. If one does not understand the principle of the root and the branch, then they cannot truly understand their duties in life; furthermore, one who does not know his duty cannot consider themselves followers of Bushido even in a modern context.
To begin to understand the principle of the root and the branch, one might consider going to a garden, any garden, and looking carefully at what can be found there. Then one should think deeply about what one sees. Understanding the principle of the root and the branch means understanding that our parents are the roots of our bodies. Our bodies are the branches, in the form of flesh and bones, of our parents. In a modern world, it is because of our desire to establish ourselves in our careers, and in society, acquiring status and material things, that we tend to neglect our parents, who are the roots. Further, if we think about it, no plant, though it may have strong and deep roots, can long survive if there are no branches and leaves. We move away from our parents, to other cities or towns, in pursuit of “things” and leave our parents behind, only to see or hear from us on rare occasions. When we have children (our parents grandchildren, who may be thought of as the leaves), we tend to keep them separated also. This is not a good thing and shows a lack of understanding for “roots and branches.”

There are two basic ways of taking good care of our parents.

Let us presume that there are parents who are kind, considerate, and of a mild temperament and character, who have educated their children with real kindness and affection and who have provided well for their children. Normally, it should be most easy for us to do our duties to such parents and it would just come naturally and be worthy of no particular praise. Yet, many of us are guilty of not giving our kind parents the thought and care they deserve. So in this modern world, the performance of such duties is worthy indeed of praise.
Remember that even with strangers, when they have treated us with kindness or have helped us out personally, we tend not to overlook it – if they, in turn, become in need of something we can do or provide for them, we are willing even to set aside our own affairs to see to it. How much less could we ever expect to think that we have done enough to care for our parents, in view of the depth of the love that they have shown us in every way! Therefore, to take care of our parents is our duty!

But suppose that we have parents who re or were cranky, argumentative, intrusive, bossy, inconsiderate, demanding or who interfere our daily lives, or who complain to others how troubled they are by the poor treatment that they get from their children; thus, damaging the reputation of those children. To honor such unreasonable parents as parents and to take the trouble to humor them, to praise them, to lament their aging, and to take care of them in a sincere manner, without negligence, this is truly noteworthy and of praise and something we should strive for. It is our duty as children. It is the duty of leaves to take care of the roots, no matter what.

Next Time: How our care for our parents reflects on the rest of our lives.

COURAGE: AN OLD FABLE FOR MODERN TIMES

Courage: An Old Fable for Modern Times

04.30.06.

Once, long, long ago, in Kamakura, there lived an old Samurai. Well, he was not just an old samurai. Actually, he was really not such an old man, but his hair (now thinning) was silver as were his neatly trimmed beard and mustache, and he was at the age when every injury he had every received in battle, every scar, reminded him daily that they were there and thus how he came to have them. He was a man of great fame in the province and had a reputation for courage, honesty and wisdom. A master swordsman, a sensei of kendo, iaido, and bushido, he was hatamoto to the shogun himself in Edo, and ready at a moment’s notice to go into battle for his lord. It was said that he was never seen to smile, yet, it was also said, that if you looked closely, you could often see a twinkle in the old man’s eyes.

But, he was retired now, as retired as any samurai can be. Now he spent much of his time in the beautiful garden of his home in the hills of Kamakura, or writing haiku, and producing beautiful works of shodo and sumi-e that were renowned all over. He also had a small dojo where he taught selected students in the samurai arts as well as in the culture of Japan.

The old samurai had a grandson, Ichiro, whom he loved early. The samurai’s son, Ichiro’s father and also a samurai of some position, was far too busy going about his duties, against the old samurai’s advice and teaching, to pay proper attention to his wife or to see to the proper training and preparation of his son. Therefore, the old samurai chose to take Ishiro under his wing, and sought to provide him with the best training and examples possible.

Ishiro was 8 years old, small for his age; yet, good looking and perhaps even a bit “cute” which is probably not a good thing to say about a future samurai. Ichiro worked very hard on all of his lessons, from swordsmanship, to hand-to-hand combat, to reading, writing, and even mathematics. Whenever studies for the day were over, Ichiro and his friends would do what all young boys do: rough and sometimes dangerous things that tested themselves and each other in terms of their physical ability and courage. While the old samurai was satisfied with Ichiro’s over-all abilities, he knew also that often his grandson lacked confidence and was hesitant or failed to keep up with the other boys. Ichiro was also aware of this.

One day, in summer, one a warm afternoon, as the old samurai sat in his garden “watching the rocks grow” he was interrupted by the presence of his grandson. “I am so sorry to bother you Grandfather,” the boy said. But I must talk to you.” His voice was sad and perhaps even trembled a bit.

“What is it Ichiro? You know that you may ask me anything,” answered the grandfather.

“It is something unworthy of your time I am sure, but I have know one else to ask. I feel so badly because I am not nearly as strong, brave, or courageous as my friends. They all seem to have great courage and I have none, Grandfather. Where can I find courage? How can I find it, get it,” Ichiro asked.

“Oh, so you think you have no courage?” The samurai asked.

“No grandfather, I don’t and I have no idea where to look for it or how to find it,” the boy answered.

Grandfather thought and thought, all the while with a sparkle in his eye and fighting to hold back a smile. “Well, this is indeed a serious matter Ichiro. Tell your mother to bring you here hone-half hour before sunset tomorrow, in your best clothes. Tell her only that it is for a very special ceremony that I will conduct, and nothing more than that. Now, you may go. I will see you tomorrow evening.”

After Ichiro had left, the old samurai went to the kitchen of his household and asked the head cook for small portions of the bitterest herbs he had on hand. Carefully, and with a slight smile on his face, he wrapped each of the herbs carefully in small silk packages and set them aside for the following day.

The next day, at the appointed time, Ichiro arrived at his grandfather’s gate accompanied by his mother. The old samurai’s wife, Midori-san, took the boy from his mother at the front door and said only, “Ichiro will return home shortly. His grandfather wishes only to do tea with him, nothing more.” As the boy and Midori-san walked down the hallway toward the garden, she explained to Ichiro that his grandfather was preparing a very special and secret ceremony, during which he would receive courage and instructed him that he was to say nothing to his grandfather but to observe strict silence and respect. Furthermore, he was never, under any circumstances, under pain of severe punishment, to ever tell anyone of this.

Now both frightened and excited, he entered the garden and walked along the path and over the small footbridge to the small teahouse at the rear of the garden. There his grandfather waited for him. Silently, the boy made a deep bow and then, has he had been trained, took the proper position at the old samurai’s side. The old man only nodded to the boy and began the ceremony, as formal as any tea ceremony you could ever imagine, with the difference that in addition to the traditional macha, the old man made a point of showing the boy each of the “special” herbs as he opened their packages and added them to the “tea.” At the end of the preparation, the old man offered Ichiro the cup, a beautiful cup of many blue and white glazes. The boy accepted the cup and began to take the first sip.“Oh! This is terrible grandfather! So sorry, but I cannot drink this at all. You cannot expect me to drink such a thing! What is it?” Ichiro blurted out.

Calmly, the old samurai turned to his grandson and said, “Well, if it was inside of you, it would be courage. Even just a taste of it has given you the courage to speak to me in such a rude and disrespectful manner. Now, finish it,” he ordered in the sternest fashion he could muster.

Hesitatingly, the boy looked deep into his grandfather’s eyes, then bowed deeply, and with difficult, drank from the cup until it was empty. Then the old samurai took the coup from his grandson and dismissed him, reminding him to never mention any of this to anyone, under any circumstances.

In the following days, Ichiro, despite his small size, began to change, and gradually was able to keep up with his playmates and even to challenge their abilities to keep up with him. The old samurai noted this with great satisfaction.

Then one day, his grandson came to him again. “Grandfather, I think you most deeply for the courage you have given me, but I fear that it is gradually diminishing.”

"Oh, whatever can you mean Ichiro-chan?” the old man asked.

“Well,” answered Ichiro, “Sometimes my friends and I, when we are doing things after class, playing or climbing, or well, doing many things, sometimes they are very dangerous, and I find myself hesitating to do them or not wanting to do them. I am worried that my courage is wearing away. What should I do, Grandfather?”

“Well,” answered the old samurai, again with a sparkle in his eyes and nothing but kindness in his voice, “Perhaps it is not that you have lost any courage at all. Only perhaps, it is the beginning of wisdom.”

© 2006, Hayato Tokugawa