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?

SPECK OF LIGHT

speck of light flashes

rising, falling in the sun

just a speck of dust

Lying on my bed this afternoon, listening to Mozart, and looking up toward the ceiling through a sunbeam that descended from the window, I saw a small flashing light rising and falling on invisible thermals. It drew nearer and near, rising and falling, moving back ward and forward, but never too close, escaping closer inspection by riding on my breath. On and off, on and off, it flashed; and I wondered. Was it a speck of dust, or the light of some life, somewhere else in this time and dimension, or perhaps some other, telling me that it existed? A sparkling dot where no other dust drifted — a tiny beacon on its own.

And then it was gone.

Was that a life? My life? Our lives? Are we destined to flash and sparkle brightly and dance on the wind, only to suddenly find oblivion?

Someday I’ll find out.

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.

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.

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.)

HAIKU, PART I

HAIKU, PART I

Haiku is a style of Japanese poetry a modification or alteration of the older form, hokku (the opening verse of a coupled verse form referred to as Haikai no renga, in the 19th Century by Masaoka Shiki. A conventional hokku consists of a pattern of 5, 7, and then 5 morae or “phonetic units” which one can relate to syllables in English, but not totally. A traditional hokku also contains a special kigo or “season word” which tends to describe the season of the year in which the renga is set. Hokku often joins two and occasionally three different components into a cohesive sensory thought, with a key grammatical pause or kire, which is, as a rule, located either at the conclusion of either the first set of five morae or the second set of seven morae. These fundamentals of the older hokku are held to be indispensable to haiku as well, although modern writers of more “free-form” haiku may not always include them. Senryu is a related poetic form that tends to put emphasis on humor and human idiosyncrasies and shortcomings instead of seasons.

Masaoka Shiki (1867 – 1902) was a Japanese author, poet, critic and journalist. He is honored as the last of the great masters of Japanese poetry and is often credited being solely responsible for the revitalization of Japanese poetry, particularly the old waka form, then referring to it as tanka and using the term haiku to take the place of “hokku”.

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

IS GLOBALIZATION CHANGING JAPAN?

Is Globalization Changing Japan?

2006.04.26

I have many questions, which I really don’t expect answers to but which I bring up here in the hopes of opening some discussion or debate on the subject.
Historically, Japan has in modern history, undergone two, maybe three significant periods of change. The first period of change was in the ending stages of the Tokugawa Shogunate, when the “barbarians” came out of the East and West, and forced the opening of Japan to the rest of the world, followed by the Meiji Era. I think in this case, at this point in history, Japan had no choice but to change and it’s people made drastic and wonderful achievements at becoming a member of the world nations.

The second period was that following WW2. What can one say about that, except that it happened and Japan again did marvelous things to rebuild and to, in many ways, re-invent itself?

Perhaps the third period was during and immediately after the “Bubble Economy.” Now there is a trend toward “world globalization”: instant communication and commerce anywhere in the world - instant exchanges of information, instant business. I am wondering if this could (or is) having a negative effect on Japanese culture and the Japanese people.

I wonder if the Japanese government and the people in the Diet haven’t gone about things wrong, at the sacrifice of its people and culture. The government has done things so quickly, so rapidly that it makes me question whether they have really thought about what they are doing. Has the government in its diplomatic and economic decisions, really considered or thought about Japan and the people, instead of only catering to the wants and desires of their political friends. I am concerned that there has been little thought given about the people and the culture and that in the long-term, the ordinary Japanese people will suffer and pay for the effects of government decisions.

Everything is done these days in such a hurry – rush, rush, dash, and dash. I think that this has potentially done great damage to Japanese culture and society. One of the things that made Japan great, that enabled it to make so much wonderful progress in the Meiji Period and after, was Japanese diligence. Japan was famous for its quality craftsmanship and industrial ability because Japanese people (even the “little people” – artists, crafts people, etc.) took the time to do good planning, and to properly investigate things before doing something. They took their time and did not rush. It would seem that the Japanese government, Japanese business, and now even the people themselves, no longer take the time, the thought, the care, that made them so special and unique in the world.

Politicians are not connected to the lives of the real people – to the real world. There is now a vicious cycle of the people paying more, for example gasoline, and then having to work more to pay for things, and because they are working more and are earning more, the prices go up once again. It is potentially a never-ending cycle. It is like a dog trying to catch its own tail – it doesn’t happen. And because they are caught up in this cycle, there is not time for anything else – no time for art, for culture, not even to be kind (which is something else that made Japan and the Japanese people stand out in the world).

The good news is that it all can be changed, while Japan still maintains its place in the world. Greed and the seeking of power I think, drive globalization. There is no vision of tomorrow, unless it is only about how profits will appear on the next quarterly report. No one, from the top and now progressing downward to the average person, things about the future. It is, in my mind, becoming more a world of only “now” and of “self”, which I will admit is the way of things in the US now. Most sad.

I am wondering if such things as Bushido have even more relevance now in the life of Japan, on all levels. Should it come back? Can it come back? I think so. I think everyone it is an important consideration – to be accountable or responsible for our mistakes and to move forward from them with discipline. It is something that is missing in American culture and is disappearing from Japanese culture, and I think it is necessary.

Today we play the “Blame Game.” It used to be if there was something wrong, you stopped, thought about the problem, fixed it, and then moved on. The “American Way” has been to find someone to blame, punish him or her, and then move on. That is becoming more of a “global” attitude towards things. It saddens me.

I come from an older generation that had a respect for the land and for other people. In Japan, people felt a responsibility, a duty; to do not only what was asked of them, but in addition, what was not asked of them. It gave strength of character that is lost in the US and is being lost here. We no longer take the time to sit and talk to our children, and they do not take the time to sit and listen, and to learn from older generations with the result that American culture has slipped away, and Japanese culture is rapidly slipping away.

I an American, not a Japanese, and while I love and embrace many things of Japanese society and culture, I will always be an American. But with globalization I see a trend for young people (especially) to try so hard to be “non-Japanese” and I worry about there becoming a “non-Japanese Japan.” Englishmen are Englishmen, Americans are Americans – there is nothing wrong with that. What is so wrong with being Japanese? We don’t expect Japanese people to be like us or us to be like them. It is one of the things that makes us all unique, makes Japanese unique, and makes the world a sometimes fun and interesting place. I think young Japanese people should enjoy being Japanese. This is from someone who is on the “outside” looking in. Sometimes I think (especially young people) are on the “inside” looking out, and forget to see themselves. Be yourself! It’s nice!

Lastly I am wondering, does it fall on people of my generation to teach again, how to be Japanese or to be the preservers of Japanese culture? Is that right or is it wrong? Is there a place for such people as myself, who studies the old ways and teaches the old ways, and practices the older arts, in Japan? Should fathers and mothers take the time to teach their children, or make it possible for their children to learn about what makes Japan a most unique place in the world?

I wonder.

Thoughts From A Takayama Rooftop

THOUGHTS FROM A TAKAYAMA ROOFTOP

Minna-san Konnichiwa!

Irasshaimase!

Thank you for visiting.

I began writing essays about Japanese art, culture, aesthetics, history, Budo, Bushido, and even politics several years ago. When placed on the Internet in the form of a blog, these essays (much to my surprise) grew immensely popular. But blog hosting sites come and go, things disappear or suddenly become inaccessible. As a consequence, we have had many requests both from long-time readers and new, to re-print the early essays and articles. To that end we have created this blog. We have also had numerous suggestions and requests to compile many of the articles, essays, poetry and stories into some sort of printed collection. To that end, we are working toward finding a solution.

I am a writer, artist, I hope sometimes a poet, and a teacher of several forms of martial arts and Budo. I have even been accused of being a humorist. We shall see! Often the source of what I write is not so much any particular muse, although if I had to name one, it would be my wife Aoi. Often my thoughts, ideas, coming from walking the streets lined with old shops and buildings, walking by the river, or just sitting up on the rooftop. Thus the title of this collection, “Thoughts from a Takayama Rooftop.”

I hope that you will visit us often as I try to discuss a variety of topics from Japanese art and culture, to Bushido, Asian philosophy, and even the weather and find enjoyment here.

-Tokugawa Hayato-
15 October 2008