SIMPLE LIVING, PART I

   

A very wise man has pointed out that “simplicity is the peak of civilization.” If one were to apply those words to one’s life, I am certain that they would, in one way or another, take on a different meaning and a dissimilar significance for each person. For me, “simplicity” signifies the elimination of all but what is essential in life, exchanging chaos for peace, and enabling myself to spend my time doing those things that are important to me and with those people who are most important to me.

     A simple life means getting rid of those many things that gnaw away at the time to spend with those people and to follow my passions. It means getting rid of the clutter around me, so that I am then left with only that which makes my life worthwhile.

     Easy enough said; however, achieving simplicity is not always a simple process. In a sense, it is a journey rather than a destination, and it can at times, be a journey where one finds themself sliding backward a step for every two steps forward.

     If I were to sum up what attaining simplicity entails, I would be inclined to say: first of all identify everything that is important to you, and then eliminate everything else. Pick out the best and get rid of the rest. That, however, may be too simple a description of the process. One must not only identify and eliminate, but must learn how to apply “identify and eliminate” to the different facets of one’s life.

     For a while, on these pages, I will attempt to present ideas that I believe should help just about anyone who is either interested in or actually attempting to simply their lives. Not everything I will write about will be totally suited to every person. One must then decide which ones appeal to them and then apply them to their own lives. The path may seem even complicated to some who seek simplicity; yet, one should take their time, read, think, apply (if they can) and then move on.

UNCLE HAYATO'S TEA TALES: NAGAI DŌKYU

UNCLE HAYATO'S TEA TALES:

NAGAI DŌKYU

Nagai Dōkyu, whose real name was Nagai Zenaemon, was a direct vassal of the Tokugawa, was extremely well known for his bravery on the field of battle, but for reasons which have gone unexplained, after the battle at Odawara in 1590, possibly at the direction of Ieyasu, he went to serve under Gamo Ujisato, until his death at Fushimi Caslte in 1583. Dōkyu then went to serve with Uesugi Kagekatsu, and eventually retired to Fukaya in Kazusa province, which is now part of Chiba Prefecture, where he took up the life of a wealthy, provincial gentleman.

An old friend once sent him a very fine Seto tea caddy which he treasured greatly, but alas, one day, one of his maids accidentally dropped it and the caddy was broken. Of course, Dōkyu was upset and disciplined her soundly. Wishing to make amends to her master, the maid immediately went to her quarters and returned with a little pot that she had kept among her few valuables, and gave it to him; asking him to please use it as a tea caddy instead. Well, Dōkyu was reluctant at first, but eventually accepted the token of her regret, but in truth, he paid little attention to it and placed no great value on it.

Now, it just so happens that sometime later, the esteemed tea master, Kobori Maskazu, whom you may know as Kobori Enshū (小堀 遠州)a great artist, not to mention an aristocrat, the founder of the Enshū-ryū, was travelling in the area and stopped by to visit. There, he happened to notice the meager pot which Dōkyu occasionally used as a tea caddy. Enshū looked upon the small vessel in total amazement. Indeed, as he told Dōkyu, it was very rare, without a doub t a Chinese example of a Katatsuki, or a “shouldered jar.”

As Master Enshū instructed Dōkyu, the areas of Seto and Mino, which are now part of Gifu prefecture, were the centers for the production of such unglazed, utilitarian ceramic ware. There, the potters drew their inspiration from Chinese ceramics, including boththe green celadon porcelains and the dark brown tenmoku ware. In fact, as the Master explained, early tenmoku ceramics evolved from failed attempts to produce the Chinese celadon ceramics, but later, were given a brown-iron glaze and then fired at high temperatures to produce a glossy, brown surface, just as his tea caddy possessed.

Dōkyu could not have been more amazed or delighted. Out of respect for the object he gave it the name “Nagai Katatsuki” and treasured it, and the maid who had given it to him, quite higly. Later, after his passing, the “Nagai Katatsuki” became on of the treasures of the Tokugawa family.

What good fortune he had. But there are other stories as well about his good fortune. Let me tell you one of them, not about tea, but about a sword.

Dōkyu was once invited by his close friend Itakura Katsushige, who fought alongside Ieyasu at the Battle of Sekigahara, to come to Kyōto with him and visit the great leader. As it was, those were still rough times, and Dōkyu was a very trusting sort of man, and some would say a bit naïve as well. On his way to Kyōto he happened to meet a rōnin along the way, in Nagoya. Because he wished to visit a relative along the way, Dōkyu left his baggage with the rōnin and hurried on, but when he returned, he found that, as you might expect, the rōnin ha dleft, taking withim Nagai’s sword. But not being a totally deisprespectful man, the brigand left his own worn out rusty sword in its place.

Well, there was nothing else to do but to put on the sword himself and continue with his journey to Kyōto. When he arrived, Itakura told him that the autnorities were “cleaning out” the prison of condemned prisoners in anticiapation of the Shōgun’s arrival and he had ordered the sharpening of twenty or so swords for the executions. Dōkyu thought that perhaps this was the ideal opportunity to sharpen the old sword he had ben left with, and went to seen Honami, the sword sharpener, who looked it over and said that a little work, the sword should cut very well indeed. Once the work was done, and since there were several criminals still to be executed, Nagai had the sword tested on one of the prisoners. Just as Honami predicted, the sword cut through the condemned man’s neck as easy as anything.

Feeling a bit better about the sword, he took it back to Honami who took it apart so that it could be sharpened more and polished as well. When Honami took the sword apart and inspected the tang, he found the name “Masamune” on it. Honami was amazed and delighted and certified it as being a example of the great sword maker’s work. Nagai was ecstatic and in time, he presented the sword to Ieyasu as a gift. From that time on it was treasured by the Tokugawa as the “Nagai Masamune.”

Copyright 2013 by Hayato Tokugawa and Shisei-Do Publications. All rights reserved.

PENNIES

PENNIES

When I was a small boy, in the days when my grandfather was still a young man, nobody resented wasting a little time. I wonder, did that represent a deliberate judgment, from a time when we were less hurried or frantic, or was it merely foolishness?

If I were to speak to those who, out of foolishness, are lazy, I would tell them that while a penny is of little value on its own, that an accumulation of pennies will, in time, make a rich man of a poor one. It is for this very reason that a merchant is so likely to hoard each and every one of his coins. As we go about our sometimes distracted, frantic days, we may not be aware of the passing moments; yet, we spend them as if they too have little value, until suddenly, they are all spent. For this very reason, would not a wise man not bemoan the passage times yet to come, but instead lament the wasting of a single present moment?

AFTER THE VIOLENCE

In The Aftermath of the Violence

This morning, the television news programs were filled with political pundits and would-be wise men, all searching for easy solutions to something where there are no easy solutions — weapons bans, tighter weapons control, harsher penalties for violent crime, making school buildings more secure, more care for the mentally ill (assuming one can identify who is mentally ill). As usual, the national hysteria, the national neurosis rages, the national breast-beating; and as usual nothing will get done. Before anything else, America, as a nation, as a people, needs to look deep within and realize the culture of violence that dwells there. Nothing will be done, nothing can be done, until that culture of violence, that ethos where bloody murder is the commonplace, is realized and changed within each heart – within each family. I know all too well. I’ve been cleaning up the messes of that culture all my life.

(Twenty children and six adults killed in a massacre at the Newtown, Connecticut elementary school were all shot multiple times, many with a rifle, wielded by a lone gunman, on December 14, 2012.)

JAPANESE AESTHETICS: FURYU

Fūryū (風流)

The Japanese aesthetic Fūryū (風流) was derived from the Chinese word fengliu, which literally translated meant “good deportment” or “manners. After its “importation” to Japan in the eight century, the word came to refer more directly to the refined tastes of a cultivated person and to things what were associated with such people. When applied in a more aesthetic sense, the word fūryū took on a reference to the refined, even elegant behavior of an sophisticated person. As time went on, the word was applied to all things that were regarded as elegant, sophisticated, stylish, or artistic.

By the twelfth century, with the evolution of semantics in Japan, fūryū began to evolve into two distinct variations. The first variation applied fūryū to more earthy, ostentatious beauty as marked in popular art forms. In the second variation, people attempted to find fūryū in the beauty portrayed in landscape gardens, flower arrangements, architecture, and poetry about nature, normally written in classic Chinese. It was this second “branch” of fūryū that in part gave birth to cha-no-yu or the tea ceremony, during the Muromachi Jidai or Muromachi Era (1333- 1573).

During the Edo Period or Edo Jidai (1603 – 1868), a form of popular fūryū became evident through a style of fictional prose known as ukyo-zōshi.[i] A second popular interpretation of fūryū became apparent in such art forms as haikai[ii] poetry and the nanga[iii] style of painting; an interpretation that advocated a withdrawal from all of life’s burdens. An example of this version of fūryū may be found in the following poem by Bashō :

the beginning of fūryū

this rice planting

song of the north.

A more contemporary interpretation of fūryū, strongly influenced by Zen, lies in the two characters which comprise the term, 風流, wind and flowing. Just like the moving wind, fūryū can only be sensed: it cannot be seen. Fūryū is tangible yet at the same time, intangible in the elegance which it implies; moreover, just like the wind, fūryū puts forward a wordless, transitory beauty, which can be experienced only in the moment: in the next it is gone. Interestingly, several styles of folk dances, yayako odori and kaka odori, have come to be referred to as fūryū or “drifting on the wind” dances and are quite popular.

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[i] Ukiyo-zōshi (浮世草子 ) or “books of the floating world” was the first major genus of popular Japanese fiction, by and large written between 1690 and 1770, primarily in Kyōto and Ōsaka. Ukiyo-zōshi style literature developed from kana-zōshi (仮名草子 ) [a type of printed Japanese book that was produced largely in Kyōto between 1600 and 1680, referring to books written in kana rather than kanji]. Indeed, ukiyo-zōshi was originally classified as kana-zōshi. The actual term ukiyo-zōshi first appeared around 1710, used in reference to romantic or erotic works; however, later the term came to refer to literature that included a diversity of subjects and aspects of life during the Edo Jidai. Life of a Sensuous Man, by Ihara Saikaku, is regarded as the first work of this type. The book, as well as other passionate literature, took its subject matter from writings of or about courtesans and guides to the pleasure quarters. Although Ihara’s works were not considered “high literature” at the time, they became extremely popular and were crucial to the further development and broadened appeal of the genre. After the 1770s, the style began to stagnate and to slowly decline.

[ii] Haikai (俳諧 , meaning comic or unorthodox) is short for haikai no renga, a popular style of Japanese linked verse that originate in the sixteenth century. Unlike the more aristocratic renga, haikai was regarded as a low style of linked verse intended primarily for the average person, the traveler, and for those who lived a less privileged lifestyle.

[iii] Nanga (南画 , or southern painting) also known and bunjinga (文人画 ) , intellectual painting) was a somewhat undefined school of Japanese painting which thrived during the late Edo Period. Its artists tended to regard themselves as an intellectual elite or literati. The artists who followed this school were both unique and independent; yet they all shared a high regard for traditional Chinese culture. Their paintings, most often rendered in black ink, but at times with light color, were inclined to represent Chinese landscapes or related subjects, much in the same form as Chinese wenrenhua or literati painting of the nanzonghua or Chinese “southern school” or art.

Copyright 2010 by Hayato Tokugawa and Shisei-Do Publications. All rights reserved.

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.

JAPANESE AESTHETICS: Plants in the Visual Arts (Geijutsu to Shokubutsu)

The graphic or illustrative arts in Japan traditionally have relied on the sensitivity of the artist to nature and thus, have been likely to be simple, compact, and modest, yet elegant. Traditional renderings of landscapes, for example, do not display the wide range of colors that is seen in Western oil paintings or watercolors. This same simplicity and grace applies to sculpture as well: delicately carved and small in size.

Plants, flowers and birds, or at least their outlines are frequently rendered in lifelike colors on fabric, lacquer ware and ceramics. The love of natural forms and an enthusiasm for the expression of nature in idealized style have been the key intentions in the development of traditional Japanese arts such as ikebana (flower arrangement, chanoyou (the tea ceremony), tray landscapes (bonkei), bonsai, and landscape gardening. It is through these arts that the Japanese people have attempted to incorporate the beauty of nature into their spiritual values and daily lives.

For the decoration of a teahouse, a modest flower was selected to conform with the principle that flowers should always look as if they were still in nature. The Japanese have sought to express the immensity as well as the simplicity of nature with a single wild flower in a solitary vase.

Copyright 2010 by Hayato Tokugawa. All rights reserved.

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.

JAPANESE AESTHETICS (Bigaku)

JAPANESE AESTHETICS (Bigaku)

One of the most distinguishing characteristics of traditional Japanese aesthetic thought is the tendency to attach far greater value to symbolic depiction than realistic portrayals. Another attribute to be considered is the supposition that in order to be true art, a work has to involve a discerning representation of what is beautiful and an aversion from the crude and profane. As a result, artists have traditionally tended to select nature as their subject matter, steering clear of depictions of everyday, common life.
It was the Heian court, often described as having an exaggerated taste for grace and refinement, which exerted an enduring impact on subsequent cultural traditions, designating elegance as a key measure of beauty. Numerous cultural and artistic concepts, such as okashi, fūryū, yūgen, and iki carry with them a nuance of elegance.[1]
Another quality, one to which great value is attached, is impermanence or transience, itself a variation of elegance; exquisite beauty being regarded as both fragile and transitory. Metaphysical profoundness was provided through a merging of Buddhism, with its emphasis on the inconsistency and uncertainty of life, with this ideal. Numerous aesthetic conventions, such as wabi, sabi, yūgen and aware (with its subsequent amplification of mono no aware) all imply transience.
Over time, the presence of an artistically created void, in either time or space, became an important concept in aesthetic theory. The concept of simplicity became a culmination of the concepts of simulation and substitution, which stressed symbolic representation. Aesthetic concepts such as wabi, sabi, ma, shibui and yojō[2] are all inclined toward simplicity in terms of their basic inferences, consistently demonstrating distaste for elaborate beauty.
Simplicity denotes a certain naturalness or lack of pretense. In traditional Japanese aesthetics then, the separation between art and nature is considerably smaller than in Western art, stemming from the belief that the mysteries of nature cannot be presented through portrayal, but only suggested and the more succinct the suggestion, the more effective it becomes.


[1] The aesthetic concepts of wabi, sabi, yūgen, aware and mono no aware will be discussed in subsequent articles.
[2] The aesthetic concepts of ma, shibui, and yojō will be discussed in subsequent articles.

Copyright 2009 by Hayato Tokugawa. All Rights Reserved.

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.

JAPANESE AESTHETICS: Plants in Japanese Visual Arts

JAPANESE AESTHETICS: Plants in Japanese Visual Arts

(Geijutsu to Shokubutsu)

The illustrative arts of Japan, indeed, many other art forms, have reflected the artist’s sensitivity to nature and lean toward compact, simple, spare, graceful and elegant images. Traditional Japanese representations of landscapes do not, for example, exhibit the wide range of colors and detail that one might find in Western oil paintings. Even in sculpture, works are generally delicate and small in scale.

Plants, flowers, and birds (or their patterns) are commonly reproduced in lifelike colors on fabrics, lacquer ware and ceramics. This love for the forms of nature and an passion to express them in an “ideal” fashion have been key motivations in the development of traditional Japanese arts, for example: ikebana, (flower arrangement), Chanoyu (tea ceremony), tray landscapes (bonkei), bonsai, and landscape gardening. Through these art forms the Japanese have tried to integrate the beauty of nature into their daily lives as well as their personal religions and spiritual values.

JAPANESE AESTHETICS: Concepts of Nature

JAPANESE AESTHETICS: CONCEPTS OF NATURE

(Nihonjin no Shizenkan)

The basic meaning of the Japanese word shizen, which is generally used as a translation of the English word “nature,” can also be used the mean “the highest good” or “spontaneous, “ that is, the power of spontaneous self-development and what comes from that power. The kanji for shizen literally can mean, “from itself thus it is.” This suggests and expression of a state of being rather than the existence of some “natural order” of things.

It is interesting to note that the word “shizen” as an representation of nature doesn’t seem to be found in ancient Japanese. The reason would seem to be that the early Japanese people recognized literally every occurrence of nature as a expression of the kami1. Such expressions as ametsuchi (heaven and earth) and ikitoshi ikerumono (living things) seem to come closes to any all-inclusive word for nature.

In Nihon Shoki2 (720 A.D.), the “precursor” deities Izanagi3 and Izanami3 created or gave birth to the Japanese islands and everything thereon; thus, human beings were not superior or in opposition to nature (as in Western religion and thought) but rather directly descended from them; thus, the lives of the Japanese people were deep-rooted into the islands. This concept can be seen expressed in a variety of Japanese cultural forms such as Zen paintings, sumi-e, the tea ceremony and ikebana (flower arranging). In nature, the subject and the object become merged into one reality (which explains the use of various seasonal flowers, animals, sights, etc., in Japanese poetry). It was only in the Meiji Period that shizen became increasingly associated with the Western concept of a “natural order” to things.

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Kami is the Japanese word for the objects of worship in the Shinto faith, sometimes translated as “god” or “deity.” In the case of Izanagi and Iznami, the kami are personified deities similar to ancient Greek or Roman gods. In other cases, such as in matters of nature and natural objects, the spirits that, for example, live in trees or streams, or the forces of nature.

The Nihon Shoki, or The Chronicles of Japan, is the second oldest book of classical Japanese history. It is also referred to as Nihongi. It begins with mythological tales but continues its account through contemporary events

Recorded in the Nihon Shoki, Izanagi and his spouse Izanami are deities born of the “seven divine generations” in Japanese mythology and Shintoism. The story is generally that these “Gods” bore many islands, deities, and forefathers of Japan.

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.