Fukushima 10th Anniversary Report by Felicity Tillack
Leza Lowitz in the top right corner talks to members of WiK about her involvement with the Fukushima disaster ten years ago
On Saturday, the 13th of March, Leza Lowitz presented a special Zoom event for the 10th anniversary of the triple disaster that devastated north Japan on March 11th, 2011.
Leza was a long term resident of Tokyo, and was in the city on the day that the massive earthquake struck. She quickly mobilised, fund raising through her yoga studio, Sun and Moon, and also visiting the affected regions in order to bring comfort to the survivors of the tsunami.
During a deeply moving presentation, Leza showed us pictures from the aftermath of the disaster, and gave us an insight into how the experience inspired her beautiful book of verse: Up From The Sea. Her book, for young adults, is written from the perspective of a biracial, teenage boy growing up in a small town based off of Kessenuma, and began in response to the plea of a young boy she met while volunteering: “Don’t forget us.”
Picked up by Crown, then part of Penguin now Random House, Up From The Sea has touched the hearts of readers across the world, including children who rarely read poetry, as well as a group of Afghan students who later visited Japan.
It was an excellent opportunity for WiK members to hear insights from a published author, and see part of what goes on behind the scenes of getting a book to print with a larger publisher, as well as such a deeply moving account of the 3/11 disaster.
Thank you to Leza Lowitz for a wonderful Zoom session with WiK!
A spring walk from Ohara to Kurama-dera by Robert Weis
Today is a good day, is my thought, observing the shades of green on the mountain slopes through the panoramic window at KULM, a simple-yet-sophisticated vegan eatery in the quaint village of Ohara, nestled in between the rice paddies and mountains that protect Kyoto from the northern winds and spirits. Yuka and I had arrived by bus from Kokusaikaikan station earlier in the morning, which is supposed to be the fastest way out of the city by public transport. My memories of Ohara were of a charming-but-crowded rural getaway. Instead, on this weekday morning, the small road leading up to the iconic Sanzen-in temple is almost devoid of human presence and the souvenir shops are still closed. Small freshwater crabs can be spotted along the stream running down the roadside and a tree frog, the Kaeru, sits on a pole as if on a throne, the undisputed king of his own microcosm, just like a character in a Miyazaki animé.
(Photos by Robert Weis)
Skipping the visit of Sanzen-in this time, we turn back and follow the signs leading to the temple of Jakko-in, in the lower part of the village. A short walk southwards along the rice fields brings us alongside carp streamer banners, on display for Children’s Day. We follow the Kyoto Trail, which heads into Ohara from the slopes of Mount Hiei. Our intention is to go for a short walk through the forest and a northern Kyoto settlement, heading for the village of Kurama, well known for both its mountain temple and hot spring with outdoor bath, Kurama Onsen, which will be our final reward for today.
The trail soon disappears into the forest, winding up towards a mountain pass. Red-bodied dragonflies are dancing in the sunshine, sitting on fresh green leaves, known in Japanese as shinryoku. We can’t get enough of observing them. At this stage, the trail is never far from signs of civilization, though a sign warns us of the potential presence of black bears. We pass a few wooden cabins in the forest, maybe weekend homes for Kyotoites who would only have to travel a few kilometers from the city. We head out into Kitayama, the northern mountains which embrace Kyoto in a long arc. Towards the west is the Shinto Atago-San and on the eastern side the Buddhist mountain Hieizan. Small statues of Tanuki-San, the frivolous figure of folklore, line the track.
The trail descends the mountain into the small hamlet of Kurama, a popular destination for daytrips out of the city. Most people come to visit Kurama-dera, the mountain temple where reiki has its origins. From the platform in front of the temple, we admire the lush scenery of the mountain valley. The contrast between the yellow-green of the fresh spring leaves, the deep blue sky, and the red painted ceilings is poignant. Japan is truly ‘the empire of the senses’. From here, a mountain trail goes further up Kurama Mountain and then down to the settlement of Kibune, famous for its restaurant decks over a cooling stream. We opt instead to head down to the village of Kurama, on the outskirts of which is the hot spring and its outdoor bath. Soaking in the hot rotenburo and enjoying the view of the surrounding forest is surely a worthy reward for our splendid spring walk. Today is a good day, indeed.
In early 70’s to 90’s, there were several poetry readings, by both Japanese and foreign poets, (including Gary Snyder, Kenneth Rexroth, and Allen Ginsberg) held at the legendary café Honyarado where writers, activists, students, artists and musicians used to go.
Since Kai himself is a part of Dankai-no-Sedai(Sort of beat generations in Japan), a lot of friends related to Labor Gakuen (Artist, writers, activists, and former colleagues) of that generation know the café, the bar, and Kai.
The café got fire in 2015, and ended.
Currently the owner and the finest photographer, Kai Fusayoshi is managing reputedly “the dirtiest bar in Japan”, Hachimonji-ya on Kiyamachi St.
He is going to have a photo exhibition of (mainly Japanese) poets, artists, and writers at the Gallery Hill Gate. According to the flyer, the galley owner, Junko Hitomi was a school mate of Kai at Doshisha Univ. and they are good friends. (Katagiri Yuzuru, poet, translator, and former head of Seika Univ. is also a good friend of Kai.)
Entrance : Free
March 9 (Tue) to 14 (Sun)
12:00-19:00 (Last day:17:00)
March 9th From 18:30 :Opening event: Butoh performance by Decalco Marie
At : 2nd floor of Gallery Hill gate 535 Tenshojimae-cho, Nakagyo-ku Kyoto (Stands on Teramachi, North of Sanjo)
(Kyoto’s Beat connection can be seen in a 1988 video of Allen Ginsberg at Seika University. Talk plus Q&A about 90 mins long. Ginsberg starts after about six minutes into the video… See here.)
Kai Fusayoshi’s photos can currently be seen in an outdoor exhibition by the river at Demachiyanagi. See here.
For another Beat connection with Japan, see the poster below for Gary Snyder reading with Shuntaro Tanikawa at the Shinjuku Meiji-Yasuda Seimei Hall in Tokyo, organised by Shinchosha in 2011. See here. And for the original poster, click here (see below).
[Incidentally, Mayumi has known Honyarado since her high school days. And she started going to Hachimonjiya a few years after it opened. In that way she got to know a lot of local writers, artists, academics and activists.]
The article below first appeared in Japan Review 33 (Special Issue: War, Tourism, and Modern Japan, 2019: p. 271–297)
Down in a Hole: Dark Tourism, Haunted Places as Affective Meshworks, and the Obliteration of Korean Laborers in Contemporary Kyoto by Andrea DE ANTONI
This article provides an analysis of the relation between tourists’ experiences, affect, and bodily perceptions, together with processes of remembering and forgetting, focusing on (dark) touristic practices in haunted places in contemporary Japan. It highlights the social features of oblivion, processes in the creation of memories and discourses of war, and their entanglement in the “meshwork” that constitutes a particular place. I draw on ethnographic data of a guided ghost tour that visits Kiyotaki Tunnel, one of the most renowned haunted places in Kyoto. I describe tourists’ experiences, analyze the rumors about the haunting, and show that, among the locals, memories of the death of and discrimination against Korean laborers in the tunnel were strategically forgotten. Yet, these memories were “unearthed,” appropriated and spread on the internet by visitors, attracted by the haunting. I point out that haunted places emerge as “affective meshworks” primarily as a result of bodily correspondences with affordances in the environment, rather than from narrative and belief, and that (dark) touristic practices can contribute to the construction of new discourses, thus unsettling power relationships. I argue that a focus on affect in shaping meshworks of bodies, environments, memories, and discourses through (dark) touristic practices, can provide an understanding of the experiences of visitors to places related to war and death, and that visitors contribute to the construction of new memories and discourses.
To see the Academia site for this abstract, please click here.
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The following is taken from the Hiding from Japanese Ghosts website, which carries numerous pictures including the one above.
Internationally famous for being one of the most mysterious and haunted destinations of Japan, Kiyotaki Tunnel (清滝トンネル ) is the single-lane route connecting northern Arashiyama to the neighbouring town of Sagakiyotaki. With a history of violence, ill-omens, and suicide, Kiyotaki Tunnel is a hub of apparition sightings, bad luck, and cautionary tales.
Originally part of the Atagoyama Railway built from 1927 – 1928, Kiyotaki Tunnel is roughly 500 metres in length, and it is claimed the tunnel was constructed by slaves (the term ‘slave’ is a loose translation as the workers were legally employed without pay). There are a number of reported fatalities including those of workers who succumbed in accidents or harsh working conditions, victims of railway incidents, and people who were executed around the area.
It is said the spirits of these fatalities can be seen wandering the tunnel at night.
In conjunction to rumours stating the tunnel is 444 metres in length (‘4’ being an unlucky number for its reading of ‘shi / 死’, seeing spirits reflected in the road mirrors situated outside the tunnel entrances or in any car mirrors is said to bring about a violent, painful fate. There are also claims the traffic signals outside the tunnel can change suddenly from red to green at night, causing accidents with oncoming traffic.
The area is said to be a popular suicide spot due to the woodland seclusion and sturdiness of the trees above the tunnel. There is a rumour of a woman who leapt to her death from the road located above the tunnel entrance, and there are stories of still being able to see her spirit.
As well as the above, sources also claim: – ‘scary’ incidents occur late at night when entering the tunnel – a woman’s scream can be heard at night from the forest around the area – the length of the tunnel changes when making a return trip (though, it can be argued the slope changes depending on which side of the tunnel entered; Arashiyama to Kiyotaki slopes downwards, making it deceivingly shorter) – a woman wearing white is known to run from the tunnel and jump on the bonnets of cars waiting at the traffic signals – dizziness, nausea, and headaches can occur while travelling through the tunnel (though, this may be due to poor ventilation and a build up of exhaust fumes) – it is warned all of the ghost activity occurs at night, and an alternative route is recommended
It was the last weekend in February and I was eager to leave the house, which is generally colder and a good deal darker than outside at this time of year. When I suggested to my wife that we go on an outing, she remarked it was time to pay our respects to gran at the Ōtani Mausoleum, where Gojō begins its climb over Higashiyama and down into Ōtsu. Just as we were preparing to leave, a call comes from our family doctor’s office to say the results are in from our annual general physical. Mitsuko is eager to find out, so she’s out the door in a flash. (The night before we’d watched a movie about your stereotypical mother who’d had a stroke from staying up all hours of the night to make daily obentō for her thankless adolescent daughter. It ends with her sneaking out of hospital to risk her life in making an enormous box lunch for the girl’s entire graduating class. There is, needless to say, a tearful reconciliation with the daughter.) The doctor gave me a clean bill of health, but told M her cholesterol and blood sugar were high, her blood pressure borderline, and her BMI over the acceptable limit. She blamed me for eating as much as I do, thus making her overeat, to which I replied dinner was not a competition.
Empty Kyoto – in more ways than one (pics by Cody Poulton)
We caught the train and then a practically empty bus to Ōtani. (Before Covid, it would have been packed with tourists.) Our favourite flower seller there waved happily when she saw us. How are you? We asked. “Ichibyō sokusai,” she replied, to the effect that we’re all getting older but, knock wood, she was doing well enough. Mitsuko launched into her medical report. We bought incense and flowers for gran, then a second time for the Ohara patriarch, the ex’s grandfather. My wife never fails to mention that she never met the guy, who passed away not long before she married. I suppose she feels that since the man was a power in the city during his lifetime he must still exert influence over the living from the other world. I’ve never felt so superfluous at a ritual laying flowers at the grave of my wife’s ex’s ancestor, but maybe I ought to be thanking him for the chance to live here, especially now? Whatever she may have said to the patriarch in silence, she finished her prayer saying out loud, “Yobantoite!” (Don’t come calling for me). The movie the previous night and the doctor that morning both had her a little rattled.
Jizo statues below the Kiyomizu temple area
Rather than return down the hill to Higashi Ōji, we climbed up
through the vast Toribeyama graveyard to Kiyomizu Temple. It was a weekend and
the weather was good, so naturally there were quite a few visitors, but nothing
like what it would be in a month or so for the cherry blossoms, and the
pandemic has kept a lot of people away. They’ve recently repaired the deck, or
stage, as they call it, overlooking the valley and the wood and gold fittings
shone in the winter sun. Following the course round back to the Otowa falls, Mitsuko
remarked on the plethora of little Jizō statues under the rafters of the stage.
These, she claimed, marked the souls of every body that had fallen off the
deck. Some were suicides, but many were unwanted children, she said, disposed of
by courtesans and geisha. Gion is next door to Rokuhara—flesh and spirit are
cheek to clerical jowl here—sex and death have always been on intimate terms, something
Kyoto surely knows better than most other places. I was reminded that all this
beauty has been built on the bones of the dead.
This piece by Reggie Pawle first appeared on the Little Bangkok Sangha website, Bangkok, Thailand (11 July, 2020) and is representative of Reggie’s current interests.
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What do you say to university students who are depressed and don’t see
much reason for continuing to live? For some time now students at the
university that I work at have said to me that when they imagine themselves
being my age (70), they see both society (due to pensions disappearing and
governments being swallowed by debt) and the earth (due to environmental
conditions) being unlivable. In their own experience they often have
encountered social problems, like bullying and cyber-aggression. Now, with
nature for now seemingly outsmarting modern medicine with the appearance of the
corona virus, they feel their health future may also be affected. Many young
people tell me their depression has become more pervasive.
From a Zen point of view, what can you say to these young people?
Many years ago I asked my Zen teacher, Sekkei Harada, what I should say to a group that invited me to introduce Zen to them. He said speak about the Three Marks. These are three aspects that all life has: impermanence (not fixed, transient), suffering or discontent, and no self. As these three are a part of all life, how you handle them is what is important. There are many other givens in life, but Zen focuses on these three. Why? Because how you handle these three will determine the quality of your life.
This corona virus has thrust human beings into unprecedented
uncertainty, thereby bringing into focus the first of these three: the
impermanence of life.
This means that life is a process that is forever changing and we have to be able to live in harmony with this condition.
Human bodies are built according to impermanence. One basic Buddhist
teaching is the Four Kinds of Sufferings, which is that all of us are born and
will age, get sick, and die. All of us are going through the human life cycle.
The grossness with which this is depicted at some Buddhist temples in Asia
shocks my Western sensibility. This photo was taken at Wat Damrey Sar Temple in
Battambang, Cambodia:
Hopefully
the reality of our death is not as gross as is depicted here, but nevertheless,
the reality is that nobody can avoid these changes.
So I say to university students that each of us needs to accept our
personal life cycle and the personal difficulties that come with it. We can
make our lives better, but difficulties will occur in our lives.
Psychologically there are many examples of how we are built according to
impermanence. One example is that we can’t see the future, no matter how hard
we try. We don’t know who we’re going to meet tomorrow. Not knowing what is
going to happen is a condition people don’t like, so they have tried all kinds
of strategies to try to know their future. One common tendency is to focus on
threats to their survival (google “negativity bias”) and then live adapting to
this negative view of the future.
I advise young people, don’t get stuck on your depression. Remain open,
to the bad and to the good. Don’t let your depression become your lens for your
life.
Another way of being built according to impermanence is that our
perceptual ability is limited. Even in this moment there are many things you
can’t perceive. For example, the dogs at luggage carousels in airports can
smell drugs in luggage, but
humans
cannot. Therefore I recommend to my students that they recognize what they can
and cannot understand, what they can and cannot do. It will help them
understand their limits and have a healthy view of themselves.
The second mark is that all life is marked by suffering or discontent.
No matter how hard you try, unpleasant things are going to happen. Our life
cycle is not
only
suffering or discontent, but it always includes these aspects. Suffering and
discontent are two common ways that dukkha (the Pali word that according to the
Buddhist tradition the Buddha used for this second mark of life) is translated.
There are very rare people who are born without the sense of pain. They
usually die in their teens. This is because no matter how much others tell them
behaviors like walking on a broken leg are unhealthy, they don’t understand as
they don’t have the subjective experience of pain (see The Gift of Pain, by Brand and Yancey).
Pain appears because something is not right. What is important is how we
handle pain. With pain comes an urge to avoid it. This is natural – you are not
supposed to like pain! However, it is very easy to misunderstand this avoidance
urge. If a person only avoids the pain, then they may never fix what causes the
pain to appear. A person needs to develop the ability to stay with the pain, to
accept it, and then to use the not liking the pain to motivate oneself to
inquire into the source of it. Then, if a way to make things better is found,
do that and the pain will lessen or maybe go away.
One example is people who have social anxiety. If they behave according
to their anxiety urge, they will avoid social situations. However, they then
will feel lonely, which will only aggravate their problem. What they need to do
is tolerate their anxiety when in social situations and find ways to enter into
relationships.
Buddhism asserts that we need to see reality as it is, including its suffering and discontent. Buddhism then articulates a way to end the suffering / discontent that human beings struggle with so greatly. This is elucidated in the Four Noble Truths. The essence of the Four Noble Truths is that if we deeply engage Buddhist practices, peace of mind is possible even in the midst of our suffering/discontent.
We need to commit ourselves to realizing this. We need to both accept
our suffering/discontent as well as be committed to alleviating
suffering/discontent as much as we can, both within ourselves and in the world.
This is not just a Buddhist challenge. This is a human challenge. Viktor
Frankl, who survived 3 ½ years in Nazi concentration camps (Man’s Search for Meaning), is an example
of this in the Western Jewish tradition.
This is another bit of advice to young
people who see only darkness around themselves. While you need to accept your
suffering and discontent as a part of life, it does not have to be a part that
runs your life. Rather, listen to the message it is trying to tell you.
Whenever is possible, do what can be done to alleviate pain. Whatever pain you
cannot alleviate you need to accept. If you handle your suffering/discontent in
a healthy way, then you will be able to work with the pain in yourself and
others and make whatever the situation is better.
And then there is
the third mark of life, no self. This is the most difficult mark of the Three
Marks to talk about. So many masters have tried and failed, simply because
words cannot describe it. No self is the realization of the indescribable, often
referred to in Zen as emptiness. One way of describing the purpose of Zen
practice is to realize “no self”. What follows is, with the assistance of
several people, my own attempt to explicate no self.
The term “no self”,
which is also referred to as not self and non self, is about self – your
self, “I”. To really understand no self you need to focus on your self, on I.
No self is about you and how you live.
One way to
understand no self is in terms of what your self is and what your self isn’t. No
self points to the absence of the usual self. What we commonly refer to as our
self is, in fact, an on-going series of experiences, all of which fall into
what the Buddha referred to as the five skandhas: form, feelings, perceptions,
mental formations, and consciousness. The self we experience ourselves as being
is comprised of these elements and they condition how we think, feel, perceive,
behave, etc. However, all of these are impermanent. Their true nature is that
they are forever shifting and beyond our control. When we find this difficult
to accept, Zen says that we respond to impermanence in three basic ways: we try
to hold on to that which we find pleasant, we are indifferent to that which we
don’t care about, and we reject and/or avoid that which we find unpleasant.
These are all ways of trying to control the flux of nature, which only results
in suffering. Life cannot be bent to our will.
It may seem strange, but when we
experience without our usual responses of grasping, indifference, and avoiding,
we can let experience be as it is in each moment. We may still not like it, but
we can accept it as it is and then mysteriously, somehow, peace arises. Joshu
Sasaki, a Zen monk, wrote in his book (Buddha
is the Center of Gravity), “You have a very bad habit of only making your
home inside of whatever you like. That’s why you feel you are not free.” When
we can make our home in whatever circumstances arise in life, then we can be at
peace. In Buddhist language, this is because form truly is formless, or, delusion
is enlightenment.
Our reaction to
impermanence is motivated by our egoistic grasping, attachment, and
self-concern. This clinging to our ego-self can foster mind states referred to
in Zen as defilements (pollutants). These are mental factors that disturb the
natural peace of mind that everybody has. The basic mental defilements in Zen
are said to be greed, anger, ignorance, pride, doubt, and false views. These
six are subdivided into 102 more defilements, resulting in a total of 108
mental defilements. An integral part of a person’s usual self is some
combination of some of these defilements. Letting go of one’s own defilements
is basic to realizing no self.
What is the
realization of “no self”? Sekkei Harada said that the realization of no self is
not an experience. If it is not an experience, how can it be described? Saying
what is “no self” can easily result in misunderstandings. Thus Zen usually
speaks in terms of what it is not, with terms like emptiness. Emptiness refers
to being empty of the created self, with all of its delusory ideas, feelings,
and awareness. However, being empty of
one’s created self is not a condition or a mental state of nihilism. Pointing
to emptiness as indescribable, Sekkei Harada said to me once, “It is not that
it is a literal void. It is just that it cannot be perceived.” As referred to
earlier, our minds have perceptual limits. No self cannot be perceived with the
perceptual abilities that mind has.
Keido Fukushima, a
Zen monk, did describe in an interview a positive view of no self. He said,
“It’s not just a negative meaning. It
means that there is no ego. There is no
self-nature. All is empty of self and
yet you can say by cutting off the ego there’s a way in which you’re living
without ego, it’s actually a very positive thing. It’s a way of living without ego.”
This way of living
is one in which a person lets go of their sense of self as a fixed identity or
an existent. Then their self becomes more like a function or an activity that
is constantly in flux. To accept with grace the many changes we encounter and
to not take them so personally. Rather than being a person who lives trying to
make their self into something it isn’t by attempting (and failing) to control
life according to their desires, fears, delusions, etc., living life as
non-self would mean living in a way that is responsive to the ever-changing and
interconnected nature of life.
Living in this way includes exercising
our will. The Buddha only realized his true nature because he was determined. He
had great desire to be free of his suffering. The ever-changing and
interconnected nature of life occurs, according to Buddhism, by causality, the
interaction of cause and effect. Everything that happens is a result of one or
a few main causes and many contributory causes. Each occurrence then becomes a
cause for the next effect. Living no self means living as a very sophisticated,
interconnected system with many integrated functions, without the common
assumption of a controlling center like the ego-self. We need to include our
will in this web of causation. We need to be active while at the same time
accepting our condition as it is and having peace of mind. Sodo Yasunaga, a Zen
monk, said to me in an interview that a person has to do their best, but the
realization of no self occurs through conditions and circumstances outside a
person. He said it is strange, but “your active effort is in vain. However, you
have to do it.” Making effort is a natural function of being a human being.
Finally, however, it one’s self, I, the source of one’s thoughts, emotions, and
will, that is transformed.
People thought that modern medicine had
eliminated plagues and pandemics and they didn’t have to pay attention to such
things anymore. However, all life is still part of nature and subject to how
nature works. If people live out of harmony with nature, then eventually there
will be effects of this way of living.
Modern medicine has been
used by society in a way that supports the illusion that living in disregard to
nature is ok. When people go to see a modern doctor for some ailment, they have
the choice to ignore any advice they may receive. All they must do is passively
to receive the treatment and then, if it is successful, they can choose to
continue to live as they did before. I knew a guy in the U.S. who had a serious
heart condition. He also loved to eat steaks multiple times a week. His doctor
told him that
if he
wanted to live, he either had to stop eating steak or he had to have heart
bypass surgery. He didn’t want to let go of his desire to often eat steaks, so
rather than bringing his desires into harmony with his condition, he chose the
surgery. Maybe a steak once every couple months or so would have been ok, but
he couldn’t accept that. Sekkei Harada once said to me, “It is not your desires
that are the problem. It is the one who is desiring that is the problem.”
Zen practice focuses on this one, which is your self, I. Who am I in
truth? This is a question that every Zen student must resolve. To do so
requires deep study of who am I. Dogen, the founder of the Soto sect of Zen in
Japan, wrote, “The Way of the Buddha is to study the self. To study the self is
to forget the ego-self.” A person must let go of living through their
delusions. Rather than taking a pill or having surgery, this requires effort
and changes of a person that are not so easy. To realize no self Zen practice
is highly recommended.
So my advice to young people is first to take a good look at themselves,
to deeply examine the ground of their self on which they stand. Make the
effort, do whatever you can to realize a non-deluded self. And when you find
ways that you are interfering with the interactive forces of nature, let go of
your interfering, and be in the natural harmony.
Zen has these three complementary parts – making effort, letting go, and
being. This is the basis of my advice to young people. I say to them, do
whatever you can to help yourself and help the world, then let go, and be at
peace.
There is one more very important concern that needs to be addressed when
faced with this corona virus – it threatens people with death in a way that
human beings haven’t felt in a long time. Even if you live in harmony with
nature, you still will get old, sick, and die. As my great aunt used to say to
me in her British accent, “Getting old is a dreadful nuisance”. In the entrance
area of the meditation hall of almost all Zen monasteries in Japan hangs a
sign, written in Chinese characters. At the monastery I have practiced at for many
years next to this sign hangs a sign with an English translation:
Death is the greatest impermanence, suffering / discontent, and lack of self in life. If you can resolve the great matter of life and death, then you also resolve impermanence, suffering / discontent, and self. Then you will be at peace.
One word about trying to resolve this great matter. Don’t approach this
in a linear way, as in going from not knowing to knowing. Rather, it is in the
trying to resolve this itself that the resolution will appear. Keiji Nishitani,
a Japanese Zen philosopher, expressed this as, “Life is transformed through
trying to resolve unresolvable questions”.
The corona virus brings this great matter into clear focus. It is up to all of us to make the effort to clarify life and death. This is the heart of Zen and is the biggest challenge that the corona virus presents to all of us.
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Postscript I dedicate this article to my teacher, Sekkei Harada, who died recently on June 20, 2020, about sunset time. He was 93. When you find a true teacher, he (she) is irreplaceable. I miss him very much.
Dear Writers, The warmth and sunshine embracing Kyoto over the past couple of days signify that spring is in the air. This is a friendly reminder that the Writers in Kyoto Sixth Annual Kyoto Writing Competition submission deadline is March 31st JST — just a little over one month away. An exciting array of prizes awaits the top winners, including one cash prize of 30,000JPY, inclusion in an upcoming Writers in Kyoto Anthology, and more. In the past five competitions, our judges have had the privilege to read the works of writers from countries throughout the world who have an affinity for Japan’s ancient capital. We hope that you, too, will submit your writing for consideration. For further information and submission guidelines, please refer to the following link: https://archived.writersinkyoto.com/…/writers-in-kyoto…/
We look forward to hearing from you soon. Karen Lee Tawarayama Writers in Kyoto Competition Organizer
Zoom session with Peter Goodman, founder of Stone Bridge Press (2/15/2021)
Peter Goodman, founder and publisher of Stone Bridge Press which has brought out nearly 200 books over the past 30 years. At one point he sold the company to Yohan, shortly before the distributor went bankrupt. A few years later he was able to buy it back.
On Sunday Writers in Kyoto hosted a presentation by Peter Goodman, with about 15 members participating. It provided a great opportunity to bring our scattered community together, with the speaker and three members in North America, one person in Australia, and others scattered around Japan from Yokohama to Shiraishi Island. Some were actually in Kyoto!
Peter described how he had set up Stone Bridge after working for Tuttle and Kodansha. He mentioned some of the successes the Press has had, such as being the first publisher to bring out a book on ‘wabi-sabi’, thereby. Stone Bridge worked with Donald Richie too, bringing out a new edition of The Inland Sea.
As for the present, Peter talked of the negative effect of the Olympics cancellation, the merits and demerits of amazon, and a tie up with the magazine Monkey. He also addressed the question of what every writer wants to know – how best to catch the attention of a publisher. Writers and publishers are often at odds, but thanks to Peter’s warm input this session demonstrated how they can work together to mutual benefit.
While the virus continues to linger around, WiK is looking to a spring season of Zoom events, and we couldn’t have had a better example of how fruitful these online sessions can be. Peter was also good enough to guide us through the submission process and provided the procedure for putting in proposals. His generosity of spirit was evident in his willingness to reach out to WiK, to help with publicity and in the planning of further development. We are very grateful to him for sparing the time and will certainly be keeping in touch..
Jann Williams in Tasmania listening to Peter Goodman in America, under Zoom management from Lisa Wilcut in Yokohama. Some of the other participants are visible along the top.
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The Stone Bridge Press website is strongly recommended, and its list of authors is a model of how these things should be laid out. Two WiK members are included, David Joiner and Amy Chavez. The background information about the authors makes for interesting reading in itself, quite apart from their books. Please see…https://www.stonebridge.com/authors.
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Following his Zoom talk, Peter Goodman those attending to send him brief proposals to see if there is preliminary interest. Should the answer be in the affirmative, then there are a standard set of requirements (see below).
Proposals for publication should include items from the following checklist:
___1 A one-page cover letter summarizing what the book is, who it's for, and why it's useful, important, necessary, or unique.
___2 An expanded table of contents, chapter by chapter with summaries. Indicate what will be included in the front- and backmatter (introduction, preface, bibliography, glossary, index, etc.).
___3 For fiction or translation, at least two sample chapters. For non-fiction, an introduction and one sample chapter, or two sample chapters. If a translation, what is the rights situation with the original author or publisher? Do you have permission to translate the work and seek a publisher for it?
___4 Estimated manuscript length and completion date (if it's still incomplete).
___5 Number of illustrations and what kind (line drawings, black and white photographs, maps, color, etc.). Are there any special production or handling requirements? You can attach or zip-archive low-resolution jpegs or tif files. Do NOT send original art or high-resolution (that is, large) files unless we ask you to.
___6 Information about you. Include a c.v. if you have one, and indicate your qualifications to write on your subject.
___7 A discussion of the size of the market for your book and how your book compares to its competition. What makes it different/better? What are you prepared to do to promote the book (very important!)? Do you know others in your field who will provide reviews or testimonials?
___8 Your financial and scheduling requirements, if any.
___9. Are you active in social media? Blogging?
Email your submission to:sbpedit@stonebridge.com
Send all materials to:Stone Bridge Press 1393, Solano, Avenue Suite C, Albany CA 94706, USA
Please note that we are primarily interested in books with a Japan/China/Asia connection (however tenuous). If you write genre fiction, like science fiction, war stories, mysteries, and romances, or commercial fiction, you probably shouldn't be talking to us at all. Please also do not send poetry or children's illustrated book submissions. No materials can be returned to you unless you provide us with sufficient return postage. We generally reply by email. We look forward to hearing from you.
THE EDITORS, Stone Bridge Press, Berkeley, California
For the past three years Peter has been running a podcast for the Independent Publishing Association in the USA.
Japanese Wood and Carpentry – Rustic and Refined – By Mechtild Mertz
A book review by Judith Clancy ___________________________
Japan is a country whose primary building material is wood, ranging from delicate alcove posts to some of the largest wooden structures in the world all employing exquisitely selected wood species.
Walking the old streets of Kyoto or entering a temple reveals the legacy of Japan’s forests: the soothing symmetry of wood lattice-fronted homes, temples with lustrous pillars and wide planked flooring glowing with centuries of use.
Wood is the chosen medium for structures, ornamentation and religious images in a country that supports its craftsmen and appreciates the inherent sensuousness of wood, its color variation, grain, and sustainability.
Mertz’s book is a slim volume with an immense amount of information, full of color photographs that identify the characteristics of each wood type. It also includes photos of fourteenth century woodblock prints that show tools that carpenters used to wield their ancient craft with references known even centuries earlier. Japanese Wood and Carpentry contains an impressive amount of information regarding the grain rendered by cutting direction and the four designated roles of carpenters that judge the aesthetic, ecological and economics that determine wood selection. Mertz also has delved into the timber species presented at the Vienna World Exhibition held in 1873 that listed 133 wood species, and then in a catalog, edited by the Meiji government, listing Japan’s one hundred most important timber tree species for the World exhibitions of Philadelphia in 1876, and of Paris in 1878.
Capably edited by John Hart Benson Jr., the clearly written text makes its well-researched subject a pleasure to read and accessible to laypersons and specialists alike.
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As an ethnobotanist and researcher specializing in Asian wooden sculpture and author of Wood and Traditional Woodworking in Japan, Mertz draws upon her great knowledge of Japanese culture and society to explain terms, history, and sources of timber, domestic and abroad. She is presently a researcher at the East Asian Civilizations Research Centre of the National Centre for Scientific Research in Paris.
(Note by JD: ‘The author has close ties with Kyoto, having carried out research on traditional Japanese woodworking at Kyoto University’s Wood Research Institute for two years. She also did post-doctorate research at the Kyoto University Research Institute for Sustainable Humanosphere. She has participated in cooperative study programs on Japanese and Chinese Buddhist sculpture, Tibetan temples and archeological wooden remains. One of her projects investigated the remains of Kublai Khan’s sunken fleet.’ See this link for more.)
(Photo by Everett Kennedy Brown, from Kyoto Journal 2014)
On Jan 20, 2021, notice of the obituary of Mary Smith (1930-2020), former wife of Donald Richie, was posted on the Writers in Kyoto Facebook public page. This prompted discussion of the renowned Japanologist, which led to personal reminiscences by Alex Kerr and Everett Kennedy Brown.
John Dougill initiated the discussion: Donald Richie once recommended me to read his former wife’s portrait of him in a novel called A Romantic Education. I only got round to reading it last autumn, and was surprised by the unflattering characterisation. Brutally honest is how I would describe it, and you could say there are one or two passages in The Inland Sea too that hint at awkward truths. Now comes word that Richie’s former wife has died, apparently on Christmas Day last year. She had an obituary in the NY Times on Jan 10.
There followed comments about Richie’s sexuality, to which Alex Kerr responded as follows:
Donald Richie was a complex character. He was a scholar and intellectual who played harpsichord, read widely in all the literature of east and west, and devoted himself to the craft of writing, publishing dozens of books as well as a book review column in the Japan Times for years. At the same time, he was indeed sex obsessed, and his kinks included not only voyeurism, but a kind of exhibitionism, in which he delighted in showing people the grungy side of his own nature – which is why he wouldn’t have been offended by his wife’s book. He loved to shock, and was amused when proper people found his comments offensive. He reveled in the contrast between his Dr Jekyll literary self, and his Mr Hyde sexual adventurer. As a gay man with a curious bisexual side, his adventures were as complicated as he was.
Donald followed in the footsteps of French intellectuals such as Proust and Genet, who loved the “nostalgie de la boue” (nostalgia of the mud). In Japan, he was fascinated not by “high culture” like Noh, Kabuki, tea ceremony etc, but the low life, the soft underbelly of society, which he described like no other. He used to take me and other friends on his personal “Tokyo tour” of slums near Ueno, Shinjuku, and other places, where he was fascinated by gangsters, homeless, sex workers, foreign laborers from Iran, and so on. Nobody has written more eloquently about this seamy, usually well-hidden, side of Japanese life.
Finally, there’s another aspect to Donald Richie, which was his love of the Japanese avant garde of the 1950s through the 1970s. That led him to champion Japanese film, become a close friend of Mishima, a supporter of Butoh’s Hijikata, and many others. Few foreigners – nay no other foreigner in the 21st century achieved the kind of friendships that Donald had with the leaders of what was at the time, “counter-culture.” The Japanese avant-garde of those days was sexually liberated but also truly bizarre and kinky (see the writings of Ian Buruma, who was one of Richie’s disciples). Donald was fascinated by the way Japan ran against all the accepted life-trueisms of the West, with sex especially, but with everything else. He remained a Western intellectual to the end of his days, but he was also a product of Japan.
Everett Kennedy Brown then wrote….
I found Donald Richie very forthcoming with his stories of his experiences with gay culture in Japan. It was particularly interesting how he would describe the qualities of young men from different regions of Japan in epicurean detail. I asked him to write these stories down, maybe not to be published while he was alive, but for posterity. I don’t know if he ever did that. We first met at his apartment overlooking Ueno. He wanted to show me photos he had of Yukio Mishima standing in the snow, nude and beautiful with a samurai sword in his hand. The photos were taken by Tomotsu Yato, a talented photographer and former flamenco dancer who lived with Donald Richie and Meredith Weatherby in a fine old house near Roppongi crossing. The house and garden became the setting for many of the nude male photos Yato took during his short career.
Alex Kerr: That house belonged to Meredith Weatherby, founder of Weatherhill Books, which published some of the great books about Japan. Urasenke’s Tankosha bought out Weatherhill and also the house which was later torn down. I used to stay there some times.
Everett Kennedy Brown: Donald and I worked on a project to make Yato’s work known. He entrusted me with Yato’s negatives to make prints that we published in the 44th edition of Kyoto Journal. Donald wrote a fine essay that I recommend anyone interested in this subject to read.
I printed the photographs in the days before negative scanners were available and I deeply regret that I did not refuse to give those negatives back to Donald. Those negatives are now gone. Nobody knows of their whereabouts. A fascinating chapter of Japanese history is again being forgotten.
Alex Kerr What a pity! Donald talked a lot about those negatives, and I was wondering where they had gone.
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In respect of the above, John Einarsen, managing editor of Kyoto Journal, was kind enough to provide a link to a conversation with Donald Richie from the April 2014 edition, in which Richie describes himself as a self-revelatory writer. There is a strong sense of Lost Japan about the interview.
Quote: “Japanese have many times told me that they consider Tokyo to be a very cold city, compared to, say, Osaka. Of course, the coldest city is Kyoto. It’s like Boston unless you are well-connected there. This is true, not particularly of foreigners, but of the Japanese themselves. Unless they’re born there, they simply don’t want to live in Kyoto. So if Kyoto is zero degrees, we get up to a sort of livable heat in Osaka, then someplace in between is frigid Tokyo.”
Also thanks to John Einarsen for drawing our attention to Notes on Tamotsu Yato, pictured below, the photographer mentioned by Everett Kennedy Brown. The feature appeared in Kyoto Journal, no. 44.
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