Page 14 of 65

Authors who belong to Writers in Kyoto

A Lie I Don’t Regret

by Lisa Twaronite Sone

I used to volunteer at a nursing home .

I would sign in at the front desk and then walk from room to room with my infant daughter, chatting with anyone who wanted to talk to a visitor.

One day, I wandered into the full care wing of the building. I usually didn’t go there, because most of its patients were suffering from advanced dementia.

A woman was lying in her bed with her eyes open, so I decided to say hello and see if she was responsive.

Continue reading

Writers in focus

English Teacher Iwao Inagaki, Second Son of Lafcadio Hearn

Yuki Yamauchi

Lafcadio Hearn, as John Dougill points out here, visited Kyoto and retold stories set in the city. The Greek-born literatus never took up abode in the city, whereas one of his children did. It was Hearn’s second son, Iwao Inagaki.

Continue reading

Seventh Writing Competition Results: Yamabuki Prize (C. Greenstreet)

The judges loved this homage to the time-honored Japanese tradition of tsukimi (moon viewing) — a universal moment which influences in deeply subtle ways and makes human life worth living. This short piece by C. Greenstreet, “Sudden Tsukimi”, was a very close contender for the competition’s top prize due to its superb imagery, connecting the celestial with the seemingly mundane by referencing everyday Kyoto settings such as supermarkets and public transportation. Observing the moon brings strangers together in concentrated harmony, and to reside in Kyoto is an invitation to savor such rich encounters with nature on a regular basis.

Continue reading

Writers in focus

Ohigan

by Malcolm Ledger

Ohigan – the autumn equinox – when the light fades and the bones begin to grow cold. A day for the Japanese to remember their dead.

Outside my window, overlooking the little temple graveyard, a large black spider sits motionless between two pines, at the centre of a gigantic web, spread wide like Indra’s net. The silky threads glisten in the sunlight. Death waits quietly, patiently, and there is no escape for unsuspecting insects.

Continue reading

Review: The Book of Form and Emptiness

Book Review of The Book of Form and Emptiness by Ruth Ozeki (560 pages) 

Reviewer: Rebecca Otowa

Readers of this website may remember that I wrote a piece called “Insight on a Rainy Day” in August 2022, largely about the Heart Sutra (Hannya Shingyo) and its central message, “Emptiness is none other than form; form is none other than emptiness”. It was a surprising serendipity then, to hear Ruth Ozeki herself, in an interview to Guardian Live about her most recent (fourth) novel, The Book of Form and Emptiness, saying that the title came from that very phrase. She is a Zen priest and familiar with the Heart Sutra. I wrote to her via her website and asked her permission to write a review for Writers in Kyoto, and she assented, mentioning that she herself used to be a Writer in Kyoto back in the day and is very nostalgic for Kyoto. In the interview she said that her personal view is that “emptiness” (ku 空) is like an ocean, from which waves or “form” (shiki 色) appear for a time. They are what we know as “matter” or the “material world”, and include inanimate objects as well as human beings. We all, we members of the material world, have form for a time and then sink back into the ocean.

Ruth Ozeki is an American-Canadian author and Zen priest, born in 1956. Her mother was Japanese, but the name Ozeki is a pseudonym. She has written four novels in which environmental, spiritual, and social themes combine. She has received the Women’s Prize for Fiction with her latest book, and previously was awarded the Booker Prize and the National Book Critics Circle Award for Fiction. 

Continue reading

Edward Levinson talk

In a recent Zoom presentation for WiK, one of our leading members Ed Levinson gave an overview of his lifework, embracing photography, writing, spiritual practice and smallholding on the Boso Peninsula. His energy and enthusiasm brought the presentation to life, and the result of his ‘soil with soul’ philosophy was evident in the wonderful slide show he prepared for the occasion.

Pictured below is the house that Ed and his wife put up, atop a small hill with commanding views, In 2000 when they bought the land, it was just an empty plot with no connection to electricity, gas, water or sewage. There was not even a road!

The house sits on the side of a hill, with two separate wings for work space, storage and residence. The top floor of the larger two-storey building on the left is on the same level as the one-storey building on the right. They are connected by a wide wood deck and covered hallway.

On the surrounding land Ed and his wife established a series of six terraces on which they grow vegetables, trees and flowering plants. Their guiding principle was to be as natural as possible, leaving plants to go to seed where appropriate. Some overhead drone shots showed the flourishing result. Ed’s interest in gardens reflects the likes of William Morris and Monet’s flowers and Japanese water garden. In his early days in Japan he worked for three years with professional Japanese gardeners, giving him the basic knowledge and techniques along with insights into Japanese culture.

In addition to tending his garden, Ed has taken part in a wide range of activities and done volunteer work, making firm ties with the local community. It felt a privilege to hear of his work, and by common agreement it was an inspiration to achieve more for all those who attended. Many thanks to Ed for sharing his remarkable project with us and showing just what is possible if one sets one’s mind to it.

*******************

For a self-introduction by Ed, with some of his excellent photos and poems, see here.

Seventh Writing Competition Results: Unohana Prize (Tetiana Korchuk)

As summer winds down and autumn gradually brings refreshingly cooler weather to Kyoto, let us settle in to read another prizewinning submission from the Writers in Kyoto Seventh Annual Writing Competition.

Ukrainian-born Tetiana Korchuk’s “The Promise” was selected as the winner of our Unohana Prize, awarded to the national of a country in which English is not an official language. Her heartwarming piece, a true story, was chosen by the judges for its skillful depiction of the onset of love and a vision of the future. “The Promise” also illustrates the setting of the Kamo River as a gathering place for locals and lovers. The young couple joins this parade in the cycle of time. Expressions of affection, however, continue to evolve throughout the generations.

* * *

The Promise

It has happened in our early dating days, when you still can’t quite wrap your head around the thought that feelings are actually mutual. You feel drunk with love, almost feverish from every single thing going on in your head. Everything around you seems magical, full of hidden meaning and perfectly imperfect. Everyday is almost like the night before Christmas, when the next day should be even happier than today, and you are ready to experience that happiness with every tiny cell of your body.

I was waiting for him at the Keihan station, our usual meeting spot, just to walk alongside Kamogawa river, like many times before. At university class we recently started studying The Tale of Genji, and my thoughts were wandering, trying to imagine Kyoto of those times. For just a moment I felt like I could see it, petite young ladies in kimono, fishermen in large straw hats, black-haired, tanned children running around barefoot. Children’s laughter sounded almost like a melody of colorful wind chimes, hanging near entrances of the riverside houses. I could even smell freshly cooked food, probably made by a mother waiting for her family to gather for dinner and felt the taste of tart green tea on my tongue.

    That moment I spotted him finally approaching, tall and easily noticeable among others. My heart skipped a bit, and I immediately was brought back to reality. We held hands and started slowly walking our usual route, talking about everything and observing other couples sitting close to each other facing the river. Someone was practicing saxophone under one of the bridges, housewives were walking their cute fluffy shiba dogs with round tails. As evening approached, groups of young people with music and drinks started gathering here and there. Near the station performers were advertising a fire show starting in a few minutes.

Suddenly I saw a nicely dressed elderly couple walking towards us in a traditional Japanese manner, the wife just two steps behind her husband’s back. They were smiling and talking quietly.

“Would we also be walking here when we are in our seventies, what do you think?” asked I. Immediately feeling a little nervous, like if my life depended on his answer.

“Sure, I can promise you that,” he said. “But we will also be holding hands.” He was smiling only with his dark eyes.

My heart was full. Full of love to that elderly couple, the slow waters of Kamogawa, and cute shiba dogs. Full of love to him.

* * *

Tetiana Korchuk is a translator, teacher, and author born and raised in Kyiv, Ukraine. She first arrived in Japan in 2014 as an exchange program participant. After graduating from Taras Shevchenko National University of Kyiv with a major in Japanese Language and Literature, she moved to Japan permanently in 2017. She now resides in Kobe, Hyogo Prefecture and enjoys learning about traditional Japanese culture, writing short stories, and cuddling with her shiba dog named Sakura.

Writers in Kyoto stands in solidarity with the people of Ukraine during this very challenging time in their country’s history, and therefore we asked Tetiana if she would like to write more about her connection with Kyoto and her feelings about the current situation in Ukraine. She writes:

“I first came to Kyoto in September 2014, a proud and excited exchange student, who finally managed to make her dream of visiting Japan into reality. My luggage was lost on the way (though found and returned to me safely after a couple of days), so I started my new life almost empty-handed. My first night, wandering the streets around the dorm where I was staying, I was feeling happy and confused, but mostly stunned by the city.

Eight years have passed since then, and now I live in another place, but still close enough to visit often. Years spent in Kyoto — first as a student, and later living and working there — has helped me to create a bond with the ancient Japanese capital. Now, arriving at Kyoto Station with its modern design, view of Kyoto Tower, and people going up and down on a cascade of escalators, always feels a bit like home.

Why is Kyoto so special to me? I don’t know. Maybe because I totally adore its history, shrines and temples, festivals and crafts. I enjoy that it is full of surprises and hidden treasures which you can’t find in tourist guidebooks. Maybe it’s because several of the busiest and most adventurous years of my life were spent there.

It also happens that among all Japanese cities, Kyoto is also special to me for one more reason. Actually, in 1971 Kyoto established a sister city relationship with Kyiv, the city where I am originally from and where my family still lives. These two beautiful cities have more in common than is apparent at first sight. Both are ancient capitals with an amazing history, culture, and proud people. Nowadays one of the parks in Kyiv is called ‘Park Kyoto’, which has a beautiful alley of Japanese cherry trees. My heart goes to Kyiv right now, and I also think about the festive blooming of the city’s chestnut trees.

Since the Russian invasion started on February 24th, Kyiv is not the peaceful, gorgeous city I used to know. It is not safe anymore, and many other places aren’t either. My heart hurts thinking about people who lost their homes due to this war. People who lost their loved ones. People who lost their lives. I can’t stop thinking about schools, kindergartens, and hospitals being shelled. Children being killed.

Being an emigrated Ukrainian these days is not easy, constantly being worried about family and friends and not being able to help much. Therefore, I’m forever grateful for all of the support that the people of Kyoto and other Japanese cities have shown to Ukrainians during these hard times — organizing charity events, peaceful demonstrations, accepting refugees, and much more. I feel that Ukrainians are not alone right now. We pray together for peace, and I believe that peace will come soon.”

Family of Three – A Happy Life in Japan

Writers in focus

The Fruit of the Moment

By Robert Weis

Time has stopped at Wachi Station, where my companion and I are waiting to meet our host, Mr Yamada. I watch the tiny movements of a swallow patiently building its nest under the roof of the grocery shop where we drink coffee. Delicious. My thoughts wander as I follow the comings and goings of this small travelling creature, and I remember why I am here at this place, at this time. For me, for whom the Côte Vermeille of my childhood already represented a mysterious and exotic land, my thirties were the gateway to the world, the journeys to distant countries, Morocco, India, South Korea, Japan. Life is an exciting journey, and it was precisely a passion, an attraction to the aesthetics of Japanese gardens and the magic of small trees – the art of bonsai – that, from my adolescence, made me dream of Japan, of a Japan anchored in its ancestral nature and its unchanging seasons, its mountains cloaked in misty forests, its rural hamlets populated by strange inhabitants wearing straw hats and small statuettes with monks greeting the traveller at the corner of a hidden garden… This dreamed Japan was as distant as a planet in a far-off galaxy: It seemed to me that, to get there, I needed a kind of secret initiation, the codes of which I did not know. Years passed, the process of living took all my time: there was none left for anything else. A lot of reading nevertheless gave a glimpse of a different world: the art of erecting stones, the Japanese aesthetic according to Donald Richie, the Zen of Dogen and D. T. Suzuki, the poems of Basho, Shiki, Santoka and Soseki, so many travelling souls who became faithful companions of my keen desire to decipher the world. This first trip to Japan was so eagerly awaited that it caught me off guard: we are never ready to live our destiny, we just have to get used to it.

Yamada-san arrives with a big smile, and we are soon driven through the Miyama Valley in his old Toyota. The path to his house is marked by a gigantic bulbous tree; according to Yamada-san, its age is estimated at 1,000 years! I find it difficult to identify the exact species, but I am fascinated by its almost human presence, as one can be fascinated by the presence of a person who emanates experience and wisdom. Trees are the writers of time, they record and observe in silence, and it is this silence of eternity that deserves our respect. In Japan, remarkable natural elements such as old trees are regarded as deities: the huge trunk is wrapped with a rope, a shimenawa, indicating veneration as an expression of the spirit of nature. Not surprisingly, a Shinto shrine stands nearby, next to the road leading to Suisen-an, the residence where we will be staying for the next two days. In Bäume, Hermann Hesse wrote: “He who has learned to listen to the trees no longer wishes to be a tree. He desires to be nothing but what he is. This is home. This is happiness.”

Happiness clearly lies in this house, made so welcoming by the omotenashi, the all-Japanese hospitality, of Mr. Yamada and his wife, who do everything to make us feel comfortable. The spacious living room is bordered on the side by a bay window with a view of the valley below; an ikebana is set on a stool, with a Japanese lily in the centre of the composition. In the extension of the living room, a space with tatami mats on the floor serves as a bedroom: it can be closed with sliding doors to ensure privacy at night. On the living room table, two cups of roasted tea and chestnut wagashi have been prepared for us. Our hosts retreat, leaving us to immerse ourselves in the darkness of the place, an atmosphere that was so familiar to me thanks to Tanizaki’s classic In Praise of Shadows.

“What is the right way to live?” This question comes to mind as I think of the old tree and Yamada-san, a kindly, vigorous sixty-year-old. I suspect that a possible answer lies here, in this remote valley in the north of Kyoto Prefecture, far from the hustle and bustle of the city. Yamada-san bought the land and house he lives in with his wife many years ago, and the landscape has changed with him. He tells us that in the past he planted not only rice fields, but also sakura (ornamental cherry trees) along the road, so that he could admire them in the years to come. This consideration for our surroundings is something I have often observed in Japan: the patience of the gardener who does not think of immediate gratification but plants a seed and waits to receive the fruits – perhaps, one day. Is this the meaning of aging well? To improve things little by little, year by year, embracing the uncertainty that accompanies all change?

At lunchtime, Yamada-san asks us to accompany him to the small garden behind the guesthouse. When he whistles, we wonder what will happen. A few seconds pass and we get the answer: a hawk appears from the mountains and dives towards us. Yamada-san throws a piece of raw chicken into the air and the hawk, obviously used to the ritual, catches it in flight and disappears into the green hills. Is living in touch with nature, with one’s own nature, the secret of a good life?

Misty Miyama

The next morning, the mountains emerge from the mist like mysterious islands rising from the waves. Mi-yama, the magic mountain. I get up early and sit in front of the big bay window watching the mist rising, at an imperceptible pace. This meditative view resonates within me: I feel the call of this world that seems so familiar, a familiarity embodied by a thousand-year-old tree. And I desire nothing more than to stay in this moment, which is sufficient to itself, to empty my soul in order to nourish it with the fruit of this moment.

*********************************

For other writing by Robert Weis, see Mind Games in Arashiyama, or 71 Lessons on Eternity. For more on his travels, see his account of a walk from Ohara to Kurama here, or his spiritual journey to Kyoto here. His account of Nicolas Bouvier in Kyoto in the mid-1950s can be read here.

Writers in focus

When Someone You Loved Dies

An Edited Funeral Service Talk in Osaka, Japan, 2022-04-29
by Reggie Pawle

(For reasons of confidentiality, the name of the deceased has been changed.)

Master of Ceremony: As other people have said, exactly one year before Richard received his diagnosis, he lost his beloved wife (through a very unexpected tragedy). They were married for over twenty years and over the next couple of years he worked, he saw people, he went places, and he did what he had to do, but the loss never faded and the pain was always there. A few months ago Richard invited Dr. Reggie Pawle to talk to us today about grief and loss and healing.

Reggie: Richard asked me to speak about grief and how to deal with grief. A lot of what I wanted to say has already been said, because people here seem to know about grief. I’ll try to add some understanding to what has already been said.

I was Richard’s counselor for about 11 years. I know him in a different way than most people here know him, because he only came when he had a deep challenge and I only saw him in my office. Still, even though we always talked about problems, the light, the brightness of Richard that has been talked about and shown here today, was really clear all the time in the midst of all his struggles.

When you lose somebody through death, the initial reaction is always shock, no matter how much you’ve been prepared, how much you know about it. The finality of death, right, you’re never going to be able to meet the person again. It seems unreal, the surreality, the disorienting feelings that come up, the mystery, all of the unknowns, the intensity. You don’t know what to do. In daily life we don’t commonly have these kinds of deep and strong feelings. The pain, the hurt, the confusion.

The deeper you love, the deeper you grieve. Your grief and your pain is part of your connection to your loved one. As time passes, grief and pain become one of your most tangible connections that you feel for your loved one. You might not want to let these painful feelings go. You might feel guilty if and when the pain lessens over time, as if the lessening of pain is because you are caring less for your loved one. Regrets about “if only I had…” can plague you. Loneliness can be strongly felt. You cannot share together with your loved one anymore. You do not get the feedback and responses that were so much a part of your relationship together. All of your future plans cannot happen. You can’t accept that your loved one has passed away. The feelings of loss, the feelings of emptiness. How can you go on?

I am going to read a couple of poems by Earl Grollman (1995), who wrote a book (Living When a Loved One Has Died) about grief. This poem is entitled, ‘And It Hurts’:

When you lose, you grieve.
It is hard to have the links
with your past severed completely.
Never again will you hear
your loved one’s laughter.
You must give up the plans
you had made; abandon your
hopes.

Like all people who suffer
the loss of someone they loved,
You are going through a
grieving process.

The time to grieve is NOW.
Do not suppress or ignore your
mourning reactions.
If you do, your feelings will
be like smoldering embers,
which may later ignite and
cause a more dangerous explosion.

Grief is unbearable heartache,
sorrow, loneliness.
Because you loved, grief walks
by your side.

Grief is one of the most basic
of human emotions.
Grief is very, very normal.

***********************

Grief is a normal emotion. It’s important to understand that each person grieves differently. You are your own expert in how to grieve. With grief you can’t say how to do it, because everybody does it in their own way. There’s no timeline for grief. It comes in many forms, like, for example, for those of us who are gaijins (foreigners) in Japan, the experience of a long plane ride back to our home country when a family member has died. In my own case when my mother died, I booked a return ticket for two days later and canceled all my appointments, except for one. This woman begged me, so I said yes. Then she came the next day and told me her story of just returning to Japan from being in her home country to be at her mother’s funeral. She cried. I didn’t tell her my own story, but I cried, and we cried together. It was surreal. Then the next day I left for my own mother’s funeral. There’s no explaining death.

This is a diversity approach to life and death. Everybody has different experiences and everyone responds differently. It is important not to let social ideas of how to grieve tell you how you should grieve. Live your grief process.

This is a second poem by Earl Grollman (1995), called, ‘But It Hurts… Differently’:

There is no way to predict
how you will feel.

The reactions of grief are
not like recipes,
with given ingredients,
and certain results.

Each person mourns in a
different way.

You may cry hysterically,
or
you may remain outwardly controlled,
showing little emotion.

You may lash out in anger against
your family and friends,
or
you may express your gratitude
for their concern and dedication.

You may be calm one moment –
in turmoil the next.

Reactions are varied and
contradictory.

Grief is universal.
At the same time it
is extremely personal.

Heal in your own way.

****************

Talking to other people at this time is sometimes awkward. They can be very irritating. Platitudes don’t work. Sometimes people just don’t know what to say. Sometimes you will hear dimwitted questions like, “How do you feel?”, when a better question would be, “How will you remember them?” Everyone it seems has an immortalized memory in their heart of their loved one.

You still have to deal with the business of living. If you park in a bus stop, like I did when I was upset after being informed that my grandfather had died, the local laws will still apply to you. It was the middle of the workday and I had to go to a building for a work function. I couldn’t find a convenient parking space. I recall myself thinking, “I can’t deal with this. I’m barely holding it together. I’ll park in the bus stop.” So I went in for a few minutes, only a few minutes, came back out, and I had a parking ticket.

Just manage each moment, hour, that leads to another day without your bright and lightness that shone so vibrantly before. Try to relinquish your sense of control and agenda and ride it out, while being attentive to what’s going on, to what you are experiencing. Do what helps you. Some share with others who have had the same loss and find incredible support and strength. Listening to others’ stories can help, as does telling your stories, like we’re doing here today. Crying is natural when you are grieving. Some write haiku (17 syllable poems), some read books like Viktor Frankl’s Man’s Search for Meaning, some go for walks in the forest.

As some have been doing here today, it is ok to give yourself license to express positive emotion and affirm other aspects of yourself that you value outside the tragedy. It can be psychologically healthy to focus on the parts of your identity that are not touched by the tragedy. It is ok for the grieving athlete to play in an important game. The same goes for the student who wants to take their final in the wake of a campus tragedy. Some have said that doing so will makes them feel more in control and helps them cope better down the line. There is not a right way or one way to grieve. Find your personal way.

You’re dealing very directly with the existential realities of death and time. Everyone dies and nobody can stop time from continuing and passing. Grief can feel like collapsing on the ground. Yet it is through being on the ground that you can stand up again. Japanese people invoke this understanding when they say about Daruma (the person who brought Zen Buddhism to China from India), “Seven times falling, eight times standing”. The number is one more for standing than falling because the assumption is it is natural for a person to stand up and be active in life. However, many times we get knocked over. The belief is that each time something in life knocks us over, we need to find our ground and stand up again.

Death happens to everyone. Therefore, it can’t be bad. Your loved one is okay and you also will be okay when you die. It is written (Inoue, 2020) that the wife, Yoshie Inoue, of Zen master Gien Inoue said to her husband on June 2, 1946, “I’m indebted to you for all that you’ve done for me these many years. Now, I’m going to die.” Gien said, “Are you alright?” Yoshie laughed, saying, “I’m alright,” whereupon she died. You don’t have to be afraid of death, you can find your way to deal with the passing of your loved one from this world, and you don’t have to be alone. You can be at peace.

So, (as I turn to face the large photo of the deceased on the altar) I want to say, thank you Richard, for what you’ve given to all of us, and for me personally, for the brightness that you always had in the midst of all your intense struggles that we shared together. You live on as a part of us.

*********************

References:

Grollman, Earl. (1995). Living When a Loved One Has Died. Boston, MA, USA: Beacon Press, pp. 13-16.
Inoue, Gien. (2020). (Trans. D. Rumme and K. Ohmae). A Blueprint of Enlightenment. Olympia, WA, USA: Temple Ground Press, p. 31.

*********************

For more about Reggie Pawle and his psychotherapy work, see www.reggiepawle.net. For his self-introduction, see here. For his work combining psychotherapy and Zen, click here. For his piece on Zen and the Corona crisis, see here.

« Older posts Newer posts »

© 2025 Writers In Kyoto

Based on a theme by Anders NorenUp ↑