Only a Blockhead

Bench

Sturdy bench

A joy to use

Made of hope in the wake of tragedy*

 

Eating lunch outside

in the warm sun

I share the bench with maple leaves

Found under a leaf on the bench:

A brief, leaf-shaped ghost

of last night’s rain

 

--Julian

*the bench was bought from Ishinomaki in Fukushima after the 2011 earthquake

Supermarket

(Yuya Tamai, Wikimedia Commons)

It was the 3/11 Tohoku earthquake that opened my eyes to the wonder of the supermarket. Whatever we need in the way of sustenance is reliably there, fresh, with choice, and immediately available in return for money.

But life is fragile, a delicate balance. We are one big earthquake away from temporarily losing this essential resource. After 3/11, energy was rationed across the country, the manufacture and delivery of goods to stores was sporadic, and people grabbed what they worried they needed to hoard. The supermarket shelves emptied, item by item. I went from store to store and stood in long lines to buy necessities. I waited outside the local conbini (convenience store) for the promised delivery of bread so I could get my one loaf. Until, in the days weeks and months that followed, the balance of supply and demand was gradually restored.

When I have this in mind, I revel in the absence of worry, and the ease with which we can feed ourselves, and I am truly grateful. Complex capitalist infrastructure has made the feeding of ourselves free of uncertainty. With money, we need never be hungry.

Our hunter-gatherer forbearers would have killed for what we take for granted today.

--Julian

Last December

The last maple leaves--like the old year--have already shriveled and blown away. This post, begun in early December, got lost in the year-end bustle. It starts with a bench bought from the Tohoku coastal town of Ishinomaki after the March 2011 tsunami. 

Sturdy bench

A joy to use

Made of hope in the wake of tragedy

 

Eating lunch outside

in the warm sun

I share the bench with maple leaves

 

Found under a leaf on the bench:

A brief, leaf-shaped ghost

of last night’s rain

 

--Julian

August 2011; the middle of the night

Earthquake!

A rolling now so commonplace

Dogs don't even bark anymore

 

--Julian

Hamaorisai

As everywhere in Japan, Shinto shrines dot the countryside. From the currently most prosperous in the area, 37 heavy mikoshi portable shrines were borne through the night towards the beach where they arrived at first light one after the other in elated festival spirits. Hundreds of local people gathered on the sand to witness this climax. Dozens of stalls sold food and drink. The shrines were paraded through the crowds, weaving and dipping to the rhythm of beating metal and the shouted chanting of the bearers, before lining up to be blessed by the senior Shinto priest. 

After the mikoshi converge, they’re usually taken into the sea in a purification ritual, with the teams of men and women porters daring each other deeper, but a typhoon was approaching and the sea was deemed too dangerous. But one of the first mikoshi to arrive wasn’t to be cheated of the experience, and took an unofficial detour into the waves. 

This year’s festival was dedicated to the victims of the March 11 Tohoku earthquake and tsunami. 

--Julian

3-D Gets Serious?

In an article in today's International Herald Tribune about Takashi Miike's 3-D remake of Masaki Kobayashi's Seppuku (one wonders why a perfect film needs to be remade, but never mind) he says "When you think of 3-D, you think of a film that jumps out off the screen. But this is changing: 3-D will soon be like ordinary film," and later Joan Dupont, the author of the article notes that, "Jean-Luc Godard is using it to film his next project, as is Bernardo Bertolucci, who — in Catherine Cadou’s documentary on Akira Kurosawa that was shown here this week — said he thought that Kurosawa, were he alive today, would also be working in 3-D — and on simple and everyday themes," so maybe, just maybe, someone will, eventually make a 3-D film I want to see.

—David

Should I Stay or Should I Go?

Here's something I posted on Facebook a few days ago:

For those not in this odd situation, it's probably difficult to imagine the polarization setting in between those of us who've decided to stay in our Japanese homes with our Japanese brothers and sisters, and those who feel the risk of radiation poisoning, even as far from Fukushima as Tokyo, is so great that they have to uproot themselves and say goodbye to loved ones lacking the means, will, or desire to flee.

It occurred to me later that this polarization, though the disaster has shoved it into the spotlight, is nothing new.  Among foreigners in Japan there have always been those who view Japan as home, who entertain no serious thoughts of "going back," and there have always been those who never don't plan to go back, if not this year then next: just as soon as they make enough money, learn enough about tea ceremony or Japanese dance, master the language, eat enough sushi, have enough fun, or whatever.  

That anyone would suggest that one group or the other is somehow more moral, loyal, prudent, or wise than the other is just silly, particularly since most of us who do decide to make Japan our homes don't usually make that decision until at least a few years into our stay here.  That is, we move from one group to the other.

Neither choice is more moral than the other.  Both are dictated by personal circumstances and predilictions.  To my foreign friends in (and recently departed from) Japan, whichever group you're in, may you make the right choice for you.

 

—David