Will Japan be OK (OK)?

Above: (top) a girl rides down from a shrine that rests up a semi-steep hill. Instead of walking the path (which actually wasn't strenuous), many people took the lift up. Under that is a picture from Suizenji Park where the beautiful landscape architecture rests with a less than appealing backdrop of modern architecture in Kumamoto city.

Below: a Honda is blessed at Fujisakigu Shrine in Kumamoto City. And below a father takes a photo at the same shrine.






At times I personify a country; maybe everyone does it. Japan, in the scheme of my personifications, has become an intimate friend since I have come here (Japan has always been at least a distant friend thanks to her wonderful nori, maki sushi, and pickled daikon that I ate growing up thanks to my mother's wonderful cooking and her intimate relationship with the Japan she remembered for those first seven years of her life). Just like many people I know, the countries I am friends with have troubles sometimes (especially my home country) and I try to be mindful of them.

Below: a small shrine in Ubuyama.


Japan, like any friends, has her quirks, her things that can get to you. But she is so charming, so beautiful (with such an acute sense of aesthetics), and for all her seriousness she has an excellent sense of humor. Not to mention her natural water hot spas and her deliciously pure water (where I am) and her shochu (Japan's mild, healthy vodka usually made from rice, sweet potatoes, or wheat). Her people are surely what make her what she is. But it's not just the people that are alive today, it's also the generations long past. Those people of old made her who she is and some might say that many of the people alive today are forgetting that legacy or replacing it with something else. It is a notion that has gained widespread acknowledgment both within and outside of Japan. You don't have to see The Last Samurai to know that the traditions of Japan have seen drastic makeovers and, in some cases, like in the case of the samurai, they have, practically speaking, been put to rest completely.


Although there is not much I can do I am a little concerned about Japan(and Ubuyama)'s future. Like in Italy, and many other aged civilizations, the birthrate has steadily dropped here. The population is getting increasingly older and schools are shutting down (the two elementary schools in my town are being combined as one is nearly empty (but oh so nice and I will miss it)). There are two large, empty hotels in my small town (that I know of). I am scared that this could turn into a ghost town. While there are people (and realistically there always will be because, for example, enough city people want to move somewhere quiet and beautiful and Ubuyama is as good as any) the town is alive (couldn't realyl call it vibrant), and only a little depressed-ish at times. But I know that it has seen much more vivacious days... (there are going through a recession here, but it has become, I think, an unusually long-lasted one).


I am neither an economist nor a historian of Japan, but she is my friend and she means increasingly more to me as I get to know her better.

The kids here are the most promising aspect of the place. If they could only keep their brilliance into adulthood and lively up themselves as adults in this town. But many of them may be destined to move to a city, or at least out of Ubuyama.

However, just as there is hope that we will remember to keep the sap of youth filtering through our bodies, there is hope that towns like Ubuyama that make up the heart of the countryside will keep the sap of youth in their bodies.


Above: some of my coolest, oldest students (third years at junior high, equivalent of American 9th grade) in Ubuyama (of course).

So I'll try to be a good person here to this town and time will tell how she fares. I do happen to think that the JET program is going to have a dramatically positive impact on this country as it probably already has. Bringing so many young people from all around the world to live here and befriend the people will leave a very positive legacy especially in the smaller cities and towns in Japan. In some way I think that we JETs (and other foreigners living in Japan) are the revolution despite being almost completely unawares. I guess that makes me a government mandated revolutionary.


I hope you guys are well wherever you are.

Minds, Limits

It was about two years ago beneath a tree on the island of Maui, near the deserted guava trees and the trail that goes through thick bamboo forests and up to the ever pouring water fall that lies above Infinity Pool with it's 300 foot drop below, that I first realized in a very profound way the limits of my skull, the limits of my mind, the limits of my head and the specificities of the sensory organs on my head. It was not as though I had not looked in the mirror. It was not as though I had not noticed my two nostrils, my two ears on either side, my two eyes which brought the light in, and my good old mouth which welcomed the food and drink that I was always so lucky to have. No no.

To be good and honest I was not feeling so well that day. I had come by a sickness that had made me feel weak and I was laying under a tree for shade and rest. The rest of my friends had run off to enjoy the view at Infinity pool. I just wanted some time to rest and that I did. Luckily I was not alone; there was a horned cow roaming around the field next to me (the kind that roam around those parts eating the rotten mangoes that carpeted the ground under the mango trees and by the old banyon trees that spread their wiring limbs this way and that).

The cow, although I was invading its territory, let me rest there in peace. I thanked it by promising I would not eat any more cows for the rest of my life (it had big, scary horns and I was in no mood to run, thus I was thankful at its niceness and wanted to return the favor). Unfortunately I forgot about my promise one day when I was really hungry and there was beef to be eaten. I guess that I ate it with more respect than I had had before. But I have always loved cows (especially since milking them and being shat on by them in a barn in Vermont).

Anyhow I somehow learned that day that my head was pretty small in terms of the world around it, that it had a strange concentration of sensory organs on it, and that some weird things were somehow going on inside of it (my processing of all of those organs). Let's just say that my head felt very round and large and at the same time very confined.

Since then I have seen other limits that relate to one's head. One can only keep so much stuff in one's head, one can only bear so many burdens, one can only think so much, one can only stay up so late, etc. I have been seeing that one can only do so much in a day and that those days add together to make up a life. (It's simple enough, but even simple things are worth noting from time to time.) I certainly knew that there were already things that have passed me by and things that would pass me by in the future. I had not been the football star, the rock and roll star, the famous actor, the what-not, etc. However I complimented those realizations with the rationalizations that I did not and would not want to be even if given the chance. And I still agree with many of those rationalizations.

Tonight I had my adult conversation class. It was rewarding, delightful, easy, friendly. It is not really a job or even a task, but a sort of accomodation for friendship and good feelings. Everyone is there not to necessarily learn English, but to be together, to have a cause together. English is the excuse. There was a moment in the class where half the room was silent, relaxed, and the other half was simply laughing. It was the kind of laughing done when one feels the absurdity, the lightness, and the gravity of life all at the same time. Or something like that.

I had known for some time that most of the people in the class would not learn that much more English than they already know. Many of them had already lived the parts of their lives that would involve traveling and communicating in English. Also, they had done other things besides English. They had lived their lives and surely had done things that were important for them, good for them, and maybe sometimes bad for them. But English was not number one, nor should it have been.

And this is all to say... that I love the freedom of not having to make a clear point but to be able to always get straight to the point despite its confusion. And I apologize for bringing you along for the ride thus far on this screen, this black screen with light letters.

And these dolls, these crazy Bunraku, two-faced dolls.



And Yuusuke's parents.


And Yuusuke with his parents.
And my mother with the best of Ubuyama hospitality on her last day.


And my frehly shaved head, some sensory organs included.

And that sad old hand-carved head above.

The roudness of the heads, the limits to them.

A true attempt at reconcilitation and understanding must fail in order for it to be an honest attempt. Desu ne? Take care out there.

Surveillance and The Loud American

As foreigners in Japan we are asked to assimilate ourselves in the culture. We are also asked to promote internationalization and show people about our culture. It is an interesting mixture of do-as-the-Romans do and something entirely different.

So one is both a guest in a foreign culture and a representative of one's own culture. It would be just as useless to reject conforming to some of the customs here as it would be to reject all of your own customs.

In the past four months I have adapted to the customs here a great deal. I have been a good internationalist, mindful of humbly bowing to even the strangers of my town. It matters to me that people here know that I respect them and that I wish to have a positive presence in the town. There are, of course, things that I simply cannot do (like be fluent in the native language here) or that doing would require me to give up who I am. In other words I cannot work like the Japanese teachers work here. I cannot get up at six and work in the office until six everyday. For one I am not supposed to, for another, I am not given the level of responsibility that these teachers are so it would make no sense for me. I am always the exception, always the awkwardly tall light-skinned man with facial hair. Many people in my position feel the same way.

But there have been some interesting developments and realizations. It did not take long to notice that to most people here I am nothing but a foreigner, an English speaker. I am not a particular individual, but a general English-speaking, white foreigner. That means that for the most part I have lost any form of social identity that goes past that most simple characterization. That is partly because of my lack of the language, but the same goes for many of my friends who are fluent because, unless they know someone well the Japanese will assume the same about them. (They are always astonished at our use of Japanese, our ease with chopsticks (a common compliment), and our taste for Nato and pickled plum, "Really?! You like Natto!" (it did take some time to get used to)).

But these details about the people here suggest something else as well. It suggests that not only are foreigners bunched together in the dominant Japanese worldview, but so are the Japanese themselves. There is a certain, relatively high, degree of expectation that Japanese people will adhere to certain universal standards of the culture. It is similar in other cultures (even America) but more pronounced here because the culture is so much more specific. There are not ten or twenty different phrases (including complete ignorance of the customer) for welcoming a customer in your shop (like in NYC), there are one or two. Similarly, there are very specific guidelines for behavior at school and in the office as well as complicated forms of speech that are used depending on the rank and class of those who you are speaking to.

This is all only news to you out there who have not lived in Japan and are not very familiar with Japanese culture. I think that otherwise this will all sound pretty normal to you.

Which brings me to one last point. Koizumi and his "Liberal" "Democratic" Party (LDP) are thinking of requiring a new form of identification for foreigners that would involve fingerprinting and a computer chip implanted in the card. The ID would be required to be on person at all times. It has been deemed the "IC You card." For more information see: http://www.japantimes.co.jp/cgi-bin/getarticle.pl5?fl20051122zg.htm

The fact that the LDP has no real competitor and that people seem to do whatever they tell them to do makes me feel uneasy. Soon I may be little more than another subject of the state, complete with implanted computer chip. This is not just a worry for Japan, however, it is also a worry for places like France and America who have considered or, in some cases implemented, similar programs (Patriot Act, etc.).

Being one who enjoys the high level of freedom I am lucky to have been granted in my life I am careful about ways in which that freedom could be lost. For example, I am careful not to take a job that would drain me of all free time to be creative on my own (even if my job were also creative). So there are certainly times when an outside force that is beyond my grip of influence can actually come down on me and threaten to diminish certain kinds of freedom (like anonymity). And that's why I insist to hold on to my individuality despite the social realities here that cannot contain it, analyze it, understand it, or even see it (unless it is visually on me like my facial hair or clothes). (I must admit that I too am guilty of being blind to parts of people here because of my language gap.) If we do not paint ourselves so as to fit in then just maybe the government will realize that the non-Japanese in Japan are not happy when they feel ever watched, ever documented, ever foreign, and ever de-individualized.

Order.

Who needs it?

Now some order is a good thing. I don’t like guns. They should be taken away. But I do not wish to quarrel with the systems of law, although there is much quarreling to be done. Canada seems to be pretty good about laws, especially in British Columbia.

And now I must attack that which I came here to attack. Order. Orderliness. Cleanliness. Emptiness. Controlledness. You could watch THX 1138, read The Glass Bead Game, or simply go look outside at the weather and the animals and the chaos of life to contemplate the importance of order in the world. But what kinds of order?

I have been struck by the orderliness of Japan. Some say it’s nice. I mean, hell, I didn’t have to wait in any lines in the airport when I flew. It was as easy as pie. And despite the amazing amount of paperwork in the government here, things are fast and civil. Anyone who has been to an L.A. D.M.V. knows that life is different in my fatherland.

But what sacrifices are made for order? A certain, large amount of uniformity and crazed amount of individual self-restraint that only alcohol can cure for most people I know, if they drink. There is also something to say about how orderly (self and societal) control can nix the ability to feel life, to feel free, to take chances, and to be a wild human animal.

Now of course there will be and would be (if given the chance) many who disagree with me, but my good literary friends Walt Whitman, Edward Abbey, Hermann Hesse, and Franz Kafka certainly wouldn’t. Of course each would offer very different points of view, but I think each would be against the kind of order I speak of here.

Now there are people in this world that do as they are told, as they are supposed to do. Then there are some people, namely the authors above, that can’t quite fit into the clothes they’ve been handed. They rebel in their own way, sometimes failing, but sometimes developing a strong stance that fights against that which laid down its control on them.

I think the most heroic of all people are those that fight against the grain. For the grain is usually something to fight against, not with. The grain defines that which humans seem to naturally fall into, a kind of order that does not by itself attack the bad qualities within itself. The dominance of huge corporations around the world is a good example. The governments and people don’t naturally fight against them; quite the contrary, they naturally go with them and accept the kind of minor brainwashing that goes with it.

Which brings us to education, dear friends. For education can, at its best, make people question things like giant corporations and their power in society. But education, at its worst, can do no such thing and can actively educate people to conform.

There was a recent op-ed piece in the New York Times about education, Japan, and America. It was number one on the most-emailed list when I saw it. The writer Brent Staples claimed that in America “Faced with lagging test scores and pressure from the federal government, some school officials have embraced the dangerous but all-too-common view that millions of children are incapable of high-level learning. This would be seen as heresy in Japan.” (Here’s the link: http://www.nytimes.com/2005/11/21/opinion/21mon4.html) This statement is absurdly false. Not only is that not seen a heretical thing in Japan, it’s actually built into the education system here where students are separated (by test scores) for high school. The slower kids here get placed in high schools that prepare them for non-intellectual, low-powered lives. It is a rigid hierarchy for these students here much like the caste systems of long ago.

But it is true that Japan puts a higher premium on their educational system than America does, but this certainly doesn’t mean that the system is entirely superior. Also, contrary to Staples’s opinion, the fact that Japan is a very different culture than the U.S. does mean that different policies will work here that would not work in America. I do very much agree with Staples that the No Child Left Behind Act was a serious mistake and another depressing blunder on the part of Bush and his ever-so-orderly, and ever-so-effective administration. Don’t blame me, I voted for the other guy.

To conclude this and to spell out the last few words about my frustration with all-too-orderly and controlling social systems, I must say a few things about what I mean on a human level. I like to live free and I demand a high level of personal freedom. I don’t like to be told I cannot wear certain things or that I must conform with everyone else even if they are not being nice to the world. That’s why I support Diva Cups and solar power. But on an even more personal level, I don’t think that I can be truly happy if my life becomes too orderly. I must always be breaking through the norms of the act of living. At times that is hard being so isolated. It’s best when there are people to go and be crazy with, otherwise I would just be a monk. And after I shaved my head to the skin I have been telling all the people of my town that I am a monk when they ask me if there was a tragedy in my life that made me shave my head. Life is not always easy when you refuse to conform to the standards of your society, but I think it beats the alternative.


"Sentiment without action is the ruin of the soul." –Edward Abbey

Happy Thanksgiving With Love From Japan

These are photos from where I spent my Japanese version of Thanksgiving holiday here on Kyushu. Sometimes I forget to show/tell people about some of my unusual travels. I went to this amazing shrine that was built into the rock of a hill. There were many statues there, almost all handmade (if not all). Then we went to another place with five hundred more statues. It was beautiful. Anyhow, I hope you are having nice, cozy holidays with your loved ones/families.

P.S. I hope you enjoy the monolith in the photo above and that it reminds you of 2001: A Space Odyssey.

Earthquakes and Crises

I've been feeling my social limits as a human being in the past few weeks. I've realized that my pride cannot really stand a job that is sometimes practically substanceless. I've learned that to have friends near that understand you is indispensible.

Yes, my friends; Ted, Teddy, Ned, Tedward, Tedley, Nedley, the odor (my brother Nick's personal favorite), Theo, Theodore, or Teto (as they call me here) - whatever you call this animal that is currently pushing buttons on some small, inert, white thing - is experiencing crises. But worry not as these sorts of self-indulgences are completely natural. Also, crises come and go. Everyone goes through them. Sometimes they completely transform themselves into something very positive.

Recently I have had more contact with my friends than ever before. I have acquired internet in my home and have been talking for very cheap through Skype to friends around the world. Perhaps this is why I have now found this crisis. Perhaps the internet has given me crutches that I didn't need and that now create new needs. The internet is a tricky thing, isn't it? It's like a computer game that pretends to be a tangible aspect of your real life. But it can never be that just like a machine could never beat Federer or Nadal at a match of tennis. That's why people exist in real life. Because we cannot ever be fully replaced. Life can never be fully replaced. Something will always be missing. And that goes for friends too, wise guy.

Sometimes I feel like I am living in a tunnel park (photo above) trapped inside of cave with strange electrically lit decorations and a highly uninhabitable environment. But then I remember that outside my office are mountains and rivers and trees and sky. Sometimes I cannot hear/see/feel past the bustling of this busy junior high school office where I am supposed to spend most of my working hours.

Last night I felt my first earthquake. The bugger woke me up. It was unsettling, as earthquakes tend to be. The vice-principal at my school told me it was a 3.0 but I just looked it up and it was a 6.2 on the richter scale. Not bad eh?

I think that sometimes people just get tangled in the combination of wires and branches. The confusion overbears and thrusts forth its nasty convolutedness, tangling mess.

Bunraku, Lasting Youth, and Tiredness

Today I was lucky enough to see my first Bunraku performance in the village of Seiwa. These dolls are held by people dressed entirely in black, including a black hood that covers each puppetmaster's entire head. I found it an interesting metaphor for society in that the characters of the play are not only completely designed by people but they are also almost completely operated by them. I say almost because they seem to be able to take a life of their own after they have been created. Also, with so many people affecting their incarnation on stage, they may as well be alive.

Above: one of the puppeteers showing off her Bunraku doll after the dramatic performance.

I had a surreal day travelling around the Aso countryside and beyond into Yamato-cho. I even went into a "Tunnel Park," a defunct train tunnel in the middle of a beautiful mountain village (Takamori-machi) that was converted into a kind of amusement park. Right now the tunnel is decorated with countless Christmas trees that hang from the cylindrical tunnel's roof above the flowing spring water where the train tracks would have been.

All the while I was with my supervisor, Yuusuke Nakamura, a delightful human being. We even saw these incredible statues crafted with cedar bark and barley/rice stocks, among other things. Then I went to a sake factory and got to have some free samples...



I wanted to write something today about aging in Japanese culture. Everyone seems to age more slowly here. But I don't necessarily mean that on the level of appearance. I mean that they their outlook and their state of mind seem to age more slowly than anywhere I have ever lived. I cannot fully describe here my evidence for this. It seems that parents let their kids have a long, unrushed childhood in order that they will later provide for them and maybe even live in the house with them as they age. Parents seem to be less over-bearing as they perhaps recognize that treating their children with respect will be most important in helping their children fulfill their duties to them in the future. Filial piety is certainly a very important part of Japanese culture. I would try to say more about my observations of the families here but I am afraid that the simple fact of conditions changing due to them being observed (by a foreigner, no less) probably discount many of my obervations. Everyone knows that families behave a little better when a guest is in the house.


I, myself, am very tired. I could try to elaborate on other topics of interest. Perhaps on technology or the paradoxes of human relationships, but I am afraid that my efforts would be fruitless or, at least, absurd at best. A tired mind does not function very well. That's why we must sleep.

But since I am not asleep yet... I will take this opportunity to say that I made a new friend, a golden retriever outside of this amazing chicken barbecue restaurant (the most divine smell that I a chicken-lover could find). I am always impressed with the heart of these dogs. How do they do it? How are they so friendly and so kind? Certainly humans fall short. Then again, I am not talking about all breeds of dogs (and cats for that matter, those wonderful beasts). But is there something hidden in their affection to us? Is it the recognition that if we were to come between them and their well-being that they would no longer tolerate us, that we would become strangers, or worse? Does this not bear true in most mammalian relationships? The interesting concept of altruism must also contain completely self-interested acts. For obviously, if the self does not take care (of itself) then all selves, the whole, could perish all too soon.

Ancient Self

For how many decades have animals been changing through time? You can put a number on the time but what does it all mean?

It may have been 30,000-60,000 years ago that humans experienced what some scientists call the big bang of the brain which was a creativity/intelligence explosion that happened well after our braincases had increased to their now (mean) present size.

What does it mean to those who realize that in many ways our brains still work the same way that many of our primate friends' brains work? That, for example, anger and happiness have set ways of being expressed that are very similar to those reactions that most primates have as well. I could note the studies, but I don't think that it takes a study to see. You can walk around and look for yourself. Go to an international city where people from every continent walk around or go to every continent and look around. I am almost sure that you will find many differences in the specific cultures of the people, how they communicate, what they eat, and how they think of the world around them. But the way they walk, the way they eat, the way they reproduce, the way their face moves, the way they act on a social level will all look very familiar to you. Because it is familiar. It not only runs through the blood of every human but it also runs through much of the blood of many of our mammal comrades.

There is certainly something that stuns most people about the idea that our bodies are not completely in our control, that we are in some ways out of our own hands. Some people will disagree with much of what I say on an intellectual level. All of what I have written can be proved wrong, even by my own argumentation, but so can many things that are practically correct and why argue with something that is so apparent. If you accept the concept of evolution then these concepts are certainly reasonable. If you do not accept the concept of evolution then there is some strange evidence in front of your eyes that you cannot account for with any other worldview. Unless you simply believe that the powers that created us thought it would be funny to make other species of animals amazingly similar to us.

So I am elaborating on what probably should be common sense by now. I am asking how this common sense affects those who contemplate it. Whether it is comforting to know that human life is not somehow on a completely different level than all other life, that it is perhaps on an equal level. Or does it make you shudder that you are not necessarily better than the other animals that crawl and leap from tree to tree in those developing countries as you may deem them. And our poor relatives are quickly being eliminated from their natural habitats. Some people, namely Jane Goodall, feel the deepest sadness and injustice at the demise of our animal relatives. They may be animals and somewhat stupid, but so are we. I am also very sad that we are losing are friends so fast.



. . . . . . .

Update on life here other: it is getting very cold at night here. I dread the day when the water in my kitchen faucet (and in my toilet bowl) freezes over, but I am sure it will be humorous at the same time. I went to the city this weekend and drank some dark beer. It had been a while. I also had lunch at an Italian restaurant and had some amazing Udon noodles mixed with egg that the heat of the noodles solidified in this cool, steamy little joint. They only cost around $3.50. Life is cheap here; cheaper than much of America. It must be Tokyo and its prices that convince people how expensive Japan can be. The sun is shining outside the office window right now and there is a kerosene heater behind me, in the middle of the office, that is heating up the whole room pretty nicely. It is providing a good reason to crawl out of bed and go to the office where all my warm-hearted co-workers also come to everyday.

As I look at some of the photos that I took while at one of my weekly visit’s to my town’s nursery school I come to think that these youngster’s are some of the wisest, most honest, brilliant people that I have ever met. (But that may be partly because I cannot understand most of what they say). They are also some of the luckiest people I have ever met. Their lives at the nursery are so much fun. They have really good lunches and they spend a lot of quality times with friends. They even got to pick all the sweet potatoes in the nursery’s own patch! There were huge sweet potatoes. That was fun. Their only troubles are when they bump their over-sized heads on things like other over-sized heads or the floor and sometimes I think they are feel alienated from each other. They may not have realized yet that the world doesn’t revolve around them. (The irony is that once you have realized this you must once again see that in some ways the world does revolve around you because your world is you). I wish I could show people how great it is to partially, if not fully, enter the world of these people. Let’s just say that the simplicity and sincerity is very refreshing. Seeing them every week means that I can never really have a bad week.

Excerpt from Tedicurus' Dialogues

What is the meaning of a human life, friend?

Well, Buddy, there ain’t one, my friend.

Thanks.

Yeah, Buddy, there are many.

Haha, I know what you’re talking about. Some have brown hair, some have bl…

Yeah, that too Buddy. But I didn’t mean that.

Oh, okay.



Crike. If you haven’t heard a drunk English man blurt this work out then you still have some good living to go and do. Blime is nearly as good, but Crike is still better.

Being in mid-mid-life is fun. There is something satisfying about knowing that I have already lived at least a quarter of the years of my life. Luckily I know that years do not measure time. I think that one good, long year can be like a century (in a good way). So those of you going through various crises of life, despair not, for there will be time for you yet in this life.

It’s been a while since I have addressed you, my reader. I may not know you too well but I can imagine why you might be compelled to read something on the internet that is not the news. The news is, unfortunately, an awful measure of the world. As it portends to connect you with the realities of the world it only obscures them with sullen, irresponsible negativity. If the world was that which is conveyed by the news I would decline to live in this world. I would role up in a ball and sit in the corner. Then, luckily, I would have already escaped the world that the news conveys (a gasp of relief).

Not to say that the world is not sometimes a very harsh and undesirable thing to us. It can bite and tear away at one like a bear that spends the better part of a day gnawing on its still-alive victim before it finally snaps the poor thing’s neck or drains it of enough blood so that it can find its peace.

Oh human life. I write this from compadre to compadre. You are my compadre, Mister or Misses, whichever the case may be. And your life doesn’t need a reason. It takes people a long time to figure that out and by the time they do they are usually just about brain dead anyway. Sorry for the vulgar talk. But I am not really trying to do much of anything except speak to some imaginary person.

So why do I live on? Partly because it would take quite an effort not to. And then there is the food, the joy of sleep, the luxury of laziness that animals in my position have. There’s vinegar to drink and there is air to breath. Sometimes I sit and talk about alcohol with a bunch of older Japanese folk while getting paid a modest sum for my services (the education of language, if you were wondering).

Then there are friends. I have not actually seen much of them lately. They do float around in my head though. Their smiles, inanity, their friendliness; I could not do much without their warmth. Oh how I miss them, but oh how they remain somehow present despite their distance. I would include my family in these kind words, but everyone knows that no one really likes their family. Relationships with them are just a part of the social imperatives (sorry family). No no, I didn’t mean that. Of course they are included! What kind of misanthrope do you take me for?

So someday I may go find my friends again. Maybe I’ll get a job at the local Trader Joe’s (my dream) where I can take the best (employee discounted) foods, beers, and wines to have parties with my friends after work and on my days off. I’ve always wished to actually interact with people and I think working in a grocery store would be one of the most organic ways in our (urban) society to do so. Also, wouldn’t it be great to have a job that requires almost none of your mind’s attention so you can muse all you want? That life is underrated I believe. But not for everyone; some people need a little motivation to think all of the time, others just do. And still others just don’t want to think at all and I can’t blame them. Thinking can be pointless and irritating. It’s a matter of what kind of thinking (or lack thereof) that one desires in one’s life. And what about doing? Did I forget about doing? Someone help me! I’ve just realized that I no longer exist—that, like some small island in the middle of the Pacific, the village of Ubuyama may as well not be on planet earth because the people here think little of the life out there and the people out there think little of here. Is that why I have plunged into relativism and subjectivism? Or is it just more fun to live that way? A friend once called me a “prophet of doom.” This was a nice characterization of me.

In my world there are two dominant ways of envisioning the world. There is the world in which I live, which I help to make up in my mind on a moment-to-moment basis (it is a pretty happy place to be but has its ups and downs like anyone else’s). Then there is the vision of the world that attempts to take in the “whole” world. But this attempt will almost always involve realizing that world is in a state beyond repair. And if it isn’t beyond repair then it will be repaired in its due course. If I see myself as an agent who can act on and change the world, I see myself as an ant among ant farms (many of them). Of course what I do matters, impacts the greater whole. But it’s changing the other ants that could really make the difference. And I know I simply cannot do that all by myself. It’s a group effort that can change the group. Of course there are the Mahatma Ghandis, Martin Luther Kings, and Rosa Parks of the world. But don’t forget the hundreds of thousands, if not millions, who made these characters become themselves by supporting them and believing in their stances; the vast apparatuses that made them public figures. The people who stood with and behind the figures were just as vital as the figures themselves. The group changed the group. Individuals only appear to exist individually. Not to disrespect the work of good people. But to give credit where it’s due, not just to those who have achieved fame for what they have come to stand for. They are symbols, mantle pieces, of much greater ideas and movements of people (all of whom helped to bring about the changes).

If I have disappointed you again then I can only apologize again. It’s not that I am worried about disappointing you, it’s that you probably didn’t deserve it and just maybe you didn’t expect it either. But you must know that I am communicating for communication’s sake. You must also remember that forgiveness is the key to life’s happiness. For if and when something goes terribly wrong in the world (and this is bound to happen) one must be ready to forgive and to laugh. But perhaps most importantly, one must remember that life is much broader than the negativity it can be made to appear to be.

As Epicurus may or may not have told his many pupils in the old days in Greece, if you are lucky enough to have a working mind and a working body then you can live as well as anyone else, you can be as happy as anyone else, and you can feel as fully as anyone else. What he may not have been able to do was to teach his pupils how they can do this. But he may have.

Thank you for letting me communicate with you friend.

To be or "to be"

Are people really living their lives? Are they really appreciating them?

The more people you see the more you might believe that most people are not and do not.

It seems that most people in the lands of plenty prefer an amount of protection and padding that pretty much annihilates the process of feeling life. That said there is something extremely aesthetically taught about that kind of life. It is as if humans have finally learned how to crawl back up into the womb. They wanted the comforts that that life provided, so they have gone and gotten them back.



Then there are the crazy people who still want to feel life and feel the pain that that will bring. And it isn’t as if the hazards of the worlds have decreased because of technological innovation. You can still walk off the curb at the wrong time and be mauled by a truck, or worse, a brand new Bentley. If I were to get hit by a car I would want it to be one of those cars that were designed in order to decrease the damage done to pedestrians when they hit them. They are cool. At the right speed it might be like falling into a pillow.

And there are the extreme sports types. There are those people who don’t like a sport unless there is a good chance that one can die from it. A wave is not fun to ride unless it is piping right over some sharp coral or unless it is 15+ feet tall. They like to jump out of planes and bungee jump off rocky cliff facts in the middle of Why, Arizona. They are a lot of fun.

The outdoors people just want to breath some fresh air, remember what it’s like to feel hungry, spend some time with boulders, trees, and some peace and quiet. They are pretty reasonable people. They want to remember what it’s like to feel healthy again (and take a break from all that indoor air that is always filled with countless toxins and too much carbon dioxide).

But what about the people with all their technological devices, televisions, and inside-the-car tourist experiences that would rather live life with a soft, thick pad around their entire bodies? Is there anything wrong with womb-envy? I think it is a respectable human desire. But they should know that they are deciding to not fully feel life. I don’t think most of them know this because they have also padded another part of their bodies: their minds. Life floats around for these people as they float through life. They are not here like they appear to be through the eyes of people who are here. They waft through this room and glide over to that. They consider a thought and then it drifts out without their control. They smile when told and then sleep when tired. Automatons? Apparitions.

What if the world appeared to our eyes as it really is? It would surely have a lot more giant inflatable donuts in the sky. And ghosts.

Traces on an Ubuyama Shore

There was a day in high school that I realized I had a lifelong commitment to the forests, animals, soil, water, and air around me. I was taking Ecology in my senior year with one of my all-time best teachers, Cathy Abbott. She assigned some Aldo Leopold, the section where he describes the green fire in a wolf’s eyes. She also assigned Edward O. Wilson and numerous other writings (like Rachel Carson and Edward Abbey) that had such influence on me they may as well have changed my physical nature. And, neuro-biologically speaking, I guess they did. Of course, it was a lifelong lesson—the readings would never have taught me much if it had not been for what I had already learned: the love of my black lab Bo, the forests that provided me a protective canopy in my native Eugene, and my love for the rivers and the oceans (and all those animals I saw on the tele, the dolphins, the whales, the lions, the monkeys). In short, I was, from an early age, inundated with experiences that would eventually become my budding environmentalism.

Well something happened in college. I wouldn’t say that I became hardened to the cause, because that would be too harsh. But something happened to almost all of my likeminded friends as well. The re-“election” of our favorite politician may have iced the cake of what our younger selves would have called our cynicism. But that was only the icing. The cake had been baked and was ready for the icing. And my present self would say that I was just coming to terms with what’s real.

In high school I had made the mistake of believing that there can be the ideal reality; that there can be the good that completely overcomes the bad. I did not think it up in such a meager, simple form, but it was perhaps still produced somewhere in my mind’s landscape. Maybe it had something to do with living on top of a hill in rural Vermont. I don’t know. Then again, I don’t think I was quite that naïve, but I was certainly inspired by the literature that, for the most part, had not accounted for the new environmental crises (i.e. John Muir did not think much about global warming). For Muir it may have been a question of saving a certain amount of wilderness. It is obviously not that simple anymore.

In fact, “simple” is not a term that should ever be used to describe the environmental problems that we humans now face.

When I came to Japan I noticed, and noted on my web-log, that the Japanese were particularly good to the environment here. Upon some reflection and observation I must sadly take that statement back. Although the culture, and many of the practices, here in Japan are very friendly to the environment, much is done that utterly disregards the health of the land, air, and water. The hills are torn apart, the trucks spew out more black than America’s not-so-friendly semi-trucks, and burnable trash is burned (including paper and many plastics). People conserve here and use highly efficient appliances and cars, but there is much that is neglected as well. (It is still, in many ways, a few large paces ahead of America.) There is also the fact that most people I see here (excluding the farmers and hikers) would rather experience most of the world through the window of their cars rather than in person. Another way of saying it: nature, and the environment, have been fetishized, commodified. Puppies are cute, bugs are gross. There is little of the Muir-like reverence for trees in the popular culture here.

Not that I necessarily have a problem with this. I happen to like all forms of life here on earth (that do not involve suffering and injustice, of course). I like the cities, I like watching movies at home. I like being indoors and outdoors.

My question remains: how do we make things better? Is it just a coincidence that Ubuyama is having an unusually warm November and that the polar ice caps are melting at an alarming pace? Slowly, chaotically, steps can be taken in the right direction. It will be a mess, and we sure can’t stop our planet from going through its wild mood swings (some of which helped to bring us curious beings here).

Yi-Fu Tuan’s book Escapism (Johns Hopkins, 2000) provides an unusual, very personal depiction of ethical questions that relate to this issue. Much of the book reflects, in a confusing, yet refreshingly copious manner about the human desire to move to and away from the strange protection/stability of the modern culture and the wildness of its absence.

I have met three couples here in the town of Ubuyama that moved here from the city to get back to nature, two of which actually now farm all of their own food (with miniscule exceptions like actually buying salt). I had lunch with one of the couples on Saturday. They told me they moved to Aso (the name of this region and of the volcano in its center) because of the profundity of the land here. They picked Ubuyama in particular because it sits in between two massive volcanoes. At the right places in this town one can peer at Aso and then turn around and see Kuju, both with steaming volcanic tops. There is also extremely pure water in this town. (Probably for every year I am here it adds half a year on my potential life-span just because the water is so good.)

Tuan argues that to yearn to escape is a universal in human culture. We wish to escape from the chaos and helplessness of nomadic life and then we sometimes wish to escape back to it when things indoors start to feel a little too feelingless.

What I appreciate most about Tuan’s writing is that it implicitly produces a theory that confuses things that are good and bad. Some bad things are also good, some good things are also bad. They come in the simple pair, obviously—but they are confused and twisted together in a curious way.

So as a part of human culture eats away at its own life support and then other, smaller parts reach back again for the nourishments of the earth with kindly hands, I sit and watch doing a little of each.

In my green opinion it is those who can embrace imperfection that are capable of being happy human beings. Imperfection is the only perfection that life seems to offer. And curiously it is the quest for some kind of perfection that seems to lead the searchers of us all around in our silly searches for the right way.

Enter the strange

I must warn you all that my posts may become strange at times. They may even be frightening. For the faint of heart, I recommend a strong aperitif before eating and digesting. {the picture above is at Suizenji Park, Kumamoto City}

But before all that there is some harmless news. My mom has finally returned to her own archipelago. They love her here and pretty much want my whole family to move here (except maybe my brothers, but that is understandable). I think that she had a chance to see some things that were still the way they were when she lived here when she was seven. However, now there are cars and concrete most everywhere and that has changed the mindset of the people here, or maybe consumerism and its vagaries was the culprit.

Consumerism. A few weeks ago I acquired a new car. It is a 1995 Daihatsu Charade Detomaso. It is pretty much the perfect car. And, I only had to pay for taxes on it, which makes it even nicer (nb taxes are very high in Japan for cars). I think that it gets about 15 kilometers per liter. Still, it's fast, utilitarian, and has a leather steering wheel made by some Italian racing company. Here is a picture of it:


It is nice to finally have the freedom to explore. It's so beautiful around where I live I have trouble imagining that there are places in Japan that are more beautiful (except maybe in Hokkaido and Yakushima). But maybe I am just being dumb.