Basic Black

Buddha who?

I'm reading an essay I found on Japanese Journal of Relgious Studies archive page. Now and again, I take a crack at making sense of Japan's Buddhist heritage. It's telling when scholars studying Buddhism in Japan premise their work on looking for "signs of life" in the tradition. It's grim, as Gerald Cooke notes in his 1974 treatment "Traditional Buddhist Sects and Modernization in Japan", that Buddhist sects were dead.  He talks about how Japanese Buddhist temples are essentially funeral parlours serving no other meaningful purpose for the people. Wow.

My neighbour lady in Uwajima was attending Jodo Shinshu temple with her husband in preparation for the next life. Old people look at it as a necessity, young people see it as an artifact here in Japan. Why'd it happen? Blame the Meiji Restoration in the 1800s when the government instituted Shinto as the state religion and took power from the temples. The powers codified Shinto, told people to stop paying respects at their Buddhist altars, abolished some holidays and conflated some others with secular and Shinto ones, and required people to do the Shinto thing as a religious and national gesture of respect. It didn't last long, and Buddha bounced back, but not to his original splendour.

Why do you, western reader, know about Buddhism? You can pretty much credit one man, D.T. Suzuki, for the spread of Buddhist, especially Zen, ideas to the western world. Last year, the documentary D. T. Suzuki - a Zen Life was screened in Tokyo to a receptive audience. He described himself as primarily scholar, but surfed the line between egghead and practitioner, never taking vows to become a priest.

What to do? Get this, two Buddhist priests at a Tokyo club are reciting sutras once a month to get people interested. Well, that's one way to do it.

It's so weird. Only in Japan can monks and priests get married and eat meat. I'm going to check the university library for Neither Monks nor Laymen, a more recent book about the state of Buddhism.

Dharma Wheel

Get up at six, chant the sun salutation while doing my morning preparations, out the door at half past six, on the twenty to seven train with either a kanji textbook, or a Buddhist text, or my mobile phone in my hand, studying or reading all the way standing to Shimbashi Station, then sleep on the Yokosuka Line as far as Totsuka, wake, stretch, check my schedule.

Teach classes all morning, prep the afternoon, greet people in the hallway, talk to our students and play games after school, race for the train, hop on the train at 25 minutes to five, sleep, read, whatever on the way home, arrive at quarter after six, walk five minutes to the apartment, change my clothes, trade school bag for training gear bag, ride my bike to dojo, train for about an hour and 45 minutes with sensei, friends and visitors, get dinner after, home by half past ten, prepare clothes, bento, and school bag, sleep six or seven hours, and do it all again the next day.

Same, same, same.

Sometimes, I find myself fighting the routine. Let me out! And when those moments happen, I take time to breathe, reflect, gather the moments to me to figure out what I did right, what I could do better.

Right view, right intention. Right speech, right action, right livelihood. Right effort, right mindfulness, right concentration. Come back to the present.

Trying to round up the first class of the day, get them in their seats, do a proper greeting at the start of the lesson, keeping them focused, takes every effort of mindfulness and concentration. I can't get angry at them. They have the attention spans of gnats and barely comprehend my instructions. So, I repeat everything a million times, and get them working together in groups so that they can help each other out. At the end of that first class, I'm tired, but they succeed in the lesson objective.

Playing Uno with next group, they pile cards on me, round after round, and every card I draw just made my hand bigger. And then I got a streak of useful cards. The looks of determination, the whoops of Gotcha! Ha! as we battle down to the last cards gets them all laughing and smiling. There isn't a lot of language in the game, but the cards require them to practice the language of prepositions and turn-taking. We all shake hands at the end of the game. We have made a wonderful, meaningful, direct connection while they practiced the language point.

In the evening, over dinner, a visitor to our dojo confesses he is on two pilgrimmages here in Japan, one martial, the other spiritual. We have an amazing, intense discussion about nature, our various practices, experiences dealing with attatchment, desire, anger and frustration. It's a joy to have a little community, if only one other person, to help support each other in our Ways.

Returning home to my apartment late, I plod past the flower bed. Etsuko, the landlady, hasn't been around much, but the evidence of her labours earlier this spring is spectacular. Acid green hostas, golden lilies, decadent camelia perfume, heavy hydrangea heads touching the earth. I've contributed an ivy and a aloe, too. All sights and scents a shock to bring me back to the moment.

This weekend, we'll break routine with the training event all day Saturday. This evening is The Phoenix's birthday, Midsummer, and the Rainy Season has finally come to Tokyo. The rain is refreshing, but it's sticky and hot, too.

Tomorrow in the dojo is going to be hot, sticky and fun. Yay!

The Mouth is gone, but the heart and the word live on

I was cojoled, provoked, prodded into reading at Thundering Word Heard, by T. Paul and Mark, and it was such a release. That must have been back in 2002 when I could walk from the house on 33rd Avenue to the Cafe Montmartre on Main Street. It was a trip to read my short fiction and I had a glimpse into the inspired, passionate world of words that drove T. Paul and his fellow poets. And boy, did he drive when we pulled Vancouvers artists out of  The Living Closet  with a crew of awesome folks who put blood, sweat, tears, paint and staples into the effort.　Ru's put up a memorial here.

I posted a version of the Prajna Paramita sutra last week. Well, here it is again,  Alan Ginsberg's translation and chant. Another bit of surfing took me to Alan Ginsberg live in London, where you can hear sound bites of Ginsberg reading the Heart Sutra. Big heart, light and love.

The Heart

Zen Dynamics provides a side by side romanized version of the Japanese language Heart Sutra, a sutra which I've posted on my blog before. Go see Nadja Van Ghelue's website about calligraphy to see a transliteration with the characters here and guidance on how to copy the sutra yourself.

Here's the whole thing in Chinese characters, romanized transcription of the reading as the Japanese see it, and English -

　摩訶般波羅蜜多心経
ma-ka-han-nya-ha-ra-mi-ta-shin-gyou
The Great Heart of Wisdom Sutra

観自在菩薩行深般波羅蜜多時
kan-ji-zai-bo-satsu-gyou-jin-han-nya-ha-ra-mi-ta-ji
Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva while practicing deep Prajna Paramita

照見五薀皆空度一切苦厄
shou-ken-go-on-kai-kuu-do-is-sai-ku-yaku
Perceived all five skandhas were empty and was saved from suffering and distress

舍利子色不異空
sha-ri-shi-shiki-fu-i-kuu
Shariputra, form is no different from emptiness

空不異色
kuu-fu-i-shiki
Emptiness is no different from form

色即是空
shiki-soku-ze-kuu
That which is form is emptiness

空即是色
kuu-soku-ze-shiki
That which is emptiness is form

受想行識 亦復如是
juu-sou-gyou-shiki-yaku-bu-nyo-ze
Feelings, perceptions, impulses, consciousness, the same is true of these

舍利子是諸法空相
sha-ri-shi-ze-sho-hou-kuu-sou
Shariputra, all dharmas are marked with emptiness

不生不滅
fu-shou-fu-metsu
(They) do not appear or disappear

不垢不浄
fu-ku-fu-jou
are not tainted or pure

不増不減
fu-zou-fu-gen
do not increase or decrease

是故空中無色
ze-ko-kuu-chuu-mu-shiki
Therefore in emptiness no form,

無受想行識
mu-juu-sou-gyou-shiki
no feelings, perceptions, impulses, consciousness

無眼耳鼻舌身意
mu-gen-ni-bi-zes-shin-i
no eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, mind

無色声香味触法
mu-shiki-shou-kou-mi-soku-hou
no color, sound, smell, taste, touch, object of mind

無限界乃至無意識界
mu-gen-kai-nai-shi-mu-i-shiki-kai
no realm of eyes and so forth until no realm of mind consciousness

無無明亦無無明尽
mu-mu-myou-yaku-mu-mu-myou-jin
no ignorance and also no extinction of ignorance

乃至無老死亦無老死尽
nai-shi-mu-rou-shi-yaku-mu-rou-shi-jin
and so forth until no old age and death and no extinction of old age and death

無苦集滅道
mu-ku-shuu-metsu-dou
no suffering, origination, stopping, path

無智亦無得
mu-chi-yaku-mu-toku
no cognition also no attainment

以無所得故
i-mu-sho-tok-ko
with nothing to attain

菩提薩埵依般若波羅蜜多故
bo-dai-sat-ta-e-han-nya-ha-ra-mi-ta-ko
the Bodhisattva depends upon Prajna Paramita

心無罣礙
shin-mu-ke-ge
and (his) mind is no hindrance

無罣礙故無有恐怖
mu-ke-ge-ko-mu-u-ku-fu
without any hindrance no fear exists

遠離一切顛倒無想
on-ri-is-sai-ten-dou-mu-sou
far apart from every inverted view

究竟涅槃
ku-kyou-ne-han
(he) dwells in Nirvana

三世諸仏
san-ze-shou-butsu
All Buddhas in the Three Worlds

依般若波羅蜜多故
e-han-nya-ha-ra-mi-ta-ko
depend on Prajna Paramita

得阿耨多羅三藐三菩提
toku-a-noku-ta-ra-san-myaku-san-bo-dai
and attain complete unsurpassed enlightenment

故知般若波羅蜜多
ko-chi-han-nya-ha-ra-mi-ta
Therefore know the Prajna Paramita

是大神呪
ze-dai-jin-shu
is the great transcendent mantra

是大明呪
ze-dai-myou-shu
is the great bright mantra

是無上呪
ze-mu-jou-shu
is the utmost mantra

是無等等呪
ze-mu-tou-dou-shu
is the supreme mantra

能除一切苦真実不嘘
nou-jo-is-sai-ku-shin-jitsu-fu-ko
which is able to relieve all suffering and is true, not false

故説般若波羅蜜多呪
ko-setsu-han-nya-ha-ra-mi-ta-shu
so proclaim the Prajna Paramita mantra

即説呪曰
soku-setsu-shu-watsu
proclaim the mantra that says

揭諦揭諦波羅揭諦
gya-te-gya-te-ha-ra-gya-te
gone,gone, gone beyond

波羅僧揭諦菩提薩婆訶
ha-ra-sou-gya-te-bo-ji-so-wa-ka
gone all the way beyond, Bodhi Svaha!

般波心経
han-nya-shin-gyou
heart sutra

江ノ島 Enoshima day trip

I took the 江ノ電 Enoden Train line, which is this rinky-dink trolley that runs from Kamakura Station to Fujisawa Station. The creaky wooden floors and overhead wires make all Japanese riders sigh and whistfully say Natsukashii, which means something like nostalgia. When the doors open towards the Tokyo Bay side, that's really what you see - water and mountains. I was so craving some ocean air. I miss Vancouver's mountains and inlet which are close enough to home to visit every day. I'm lucky my job lets me get out in Kamakura once in a while to let me dip my feet in ocean water.

Enoshima is tatty, and it's not exactly a must-see for foreign vistitors, but it does have its charms. On the way from the train station to the island, there are restaurants and this old-fashioned arcade with classic pachinko machines. Cool!

The two guardian dragons of the island greet you on the walkway. Here's Benzaiten's seed syllable.

There are three major deities enshrined on Enoshima, syncretized local deities mixed with Benzaiten's imagery. Benzaiten, the Japanese version of Saraswati, is accompanied by three sister goddesses mentioned in kojiki -- Tagitsuhime-no-mikoto, Ichikishimahime and Tagirihime. There is a legend, Enoshima Engi, which tells the story of the origins of the shrine, a dragon who terrorizes the people and is rebuked, controlled and finally befriended by Benzaiten. There is an awesome manga version of the story The Five-headed Dragon and Benzaiten on the Shrine's website.

The Lotus, Time and Space

Great Wisdom Beyond Wisdom Heart Sutra

Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva, when practicing deeply the Prajna Paramita,
perceived that all five skandhas in their own being are empty and was saved
from all suffering.

O Shariputra, form does not differ from emptiness; emptiness does not
differ from form. That which is form is emptiness; that which is emptiness
form. The same is true of feelings, perceptions, formations, consciousness.

O Shariputra, all dharmas are marked with emptiness. they do not appear nor
disappear, are not tainted nor pure, do not increase nor decrease.
Therefore in emptiness: no form, no feelings, no perceptions, no
formations, no consciousness; no eyes, no ears, no nose, no tongue, no
body, no mind; no color, no sound, no smell, no taste, no touch, no object
of mind; no realm of eyes...until no realm of mind-consciousness; no
ignorance and also no extinction of it...until no old-age and death and
also no extinction of it; no suffering, no origination, no stopping, no
path, no cognition, also no attainment with nothing to attain.

A bodhisattva depends on Prajna Paramita and the mind is no hindrance.
Without any hindrance no fears exist. Far apart from every perverted view
one dwells in nirvana. In the three worlds all buddhas depend on Prajna
Paramita and attain unsurpassed complete perfect enlightenment. Therefore,
know the Prajna Paramita is the great transcendent mantra, is the great
bright mantra, is the utmost mantra, is the supreme mantra which is able to
relieve all suffering and is true not false; so proclaim the Prajna
Paramita mantra, proclaim the mantra that says:

Gate Gate Paragate Parasamgate Bodhi Svaha

All buddhas ten directions three times
All beings bodhisattvas mahasattvas
Wisdom beyond wisdom Maha Prajna Paramita

Tuesday afternoon, standing in the chilly reception hall of a Tokyo funeral parlour, I looked at my friends' children, and thought, in the moment that they smile, there is a hint of the past, of the people they came from, and an intimation of who they are growing into. There's a beauty there, now, in those smiles.

All of our family resides in us, literally in the form of DNA, and in our hearts, in the affection, piety and compassion which we've shared with each other. When you look in the eyes of a child, there is no time. Past, present and future all come together. What makes us whole is the all of us - the sadness, happiness, and the knowledge that this is all part of nature. There is no seperation.

I feel so grateful. I say thanks a lot.

Robert Anton Wilson Illuminated Forever

RAW is dead, so they say. Long live RAW. On Wikipedia, it says he died on January 11th. Is that true? Is there a *fnord in there somewhere?

I guess it is true.

*Fnord is the smallest number greater than zero.

Wandering thoughts, hard to put in words

On a language tangent, I'm warming up for the start of a graduate school course I'm registered for at Temple Univesity Tokyo Campus. The course, a study of English phonetics and phonology, is enticing me. I love geeking about with languages.

Some geekage lately...Soke said, at the first Tuesday training of the year at　東京武道館, that there are things that must be communicated through experience, and that we can't communicate some ideas in language. He talked about the principle of direct transmission,　以心伝心　and how that was a message from both Toda sensei and Takamatsu sensei.

Movement as language? Sure, when we talk about communication through movement, a typical language teacher will think of gestures, a swing dancer will tell you it's the firm but light guidance of her male partner.

Movement can communicate ritual and spiritual purpose, too. Think Catholics crossing themselves, or Japanese making obeisance at a shrine. Or yogis making mudras to embody a principle.

The concepts of mudras are also symbolized by bija, or seed syllables.

I'm fascinated by Glide, the constructed language spun out of Diana Reed Slattery's science fiction book, The Maze Game. This gestured language arises from a people who glide from one hallucinagenic water lilly to another, and develop a form of communication through three gestures symbolizing a cupped hand, an open hand and a wave, which can be combined into 27 glyphs. She read a lot of Terrence McKenna's work, and subscribes to his theory which posits that our Neolithic ancestors developed language from consuming hallucinagenic plants.

Others are asking, Why did we evolve complicated syntax and language, written and spoken? Some say the origins of language are religio-spiritual. We were trying to communicate with and about the magical world around us, with each other, with our natural selves.

I'm about to head to the classroom. What will we do there? Communicate ideas across a linguistic lines, using gesture, word for word correspondence and whole units of meaning that are better left unstranslated and instead, simply shown through movement, context and experience.

Lots to think about.

Crowleymass, Slackmasters and RAW

At Crowleymass last night, B told us that Robert Anton Wilson, the great magician and madman, is in financial trouble and on his way out. Dang, and I should have looked him up when I was in Santa Cruz. You can read the details at Boing Boing, where you can also get the account number for his support fund.

Magicians and visionaries owe a lot to people like RAW. He inspired the Church of the Subgenius, worked on neuro-linguistic programming with Richard Bandler, and wrote about other geniuses in the Garden of Weirdness, like the McKennas, Dennis and Terence.

I think it was a RAW story in Playboy that my Dad told me and my brother that got us curious about the Illuminati. We joked about putting the application fee in a box and burying it in the back garden to see if they'd take us two miscreants. I kept reading and became Reverend Wormfood Moonbeam and embraced my Yeti nature and gained some slack.

I think The Boss is the greatest slackmaster in the world today after RAW and my cat Maro. I mean, The Boss can drop you on your butt from a height, hit you a few times while you're on the way down, and when you land, put a sword between your teeth, and he leaves nothing but a few dents and bruises on you and he never breaks a sweat.

Slack is the moment between moments. And that's what the boss has got.

Autumn's on it's way, turning over a new leaf

This is the fountain I see on my way through Shinagawa Station Ecute Mall every morning.  I take a 5 minute breather here, in the bright light, listen to the fountain and get a cup of coffee after the Yamanote Line rush. I'm leaving early enough that it's not crowded, but I have to stand on the Joban and Yamanote rides, 30 and 20 minutes respectively. On the trains, I'm putting in about 45 minutes of reading in Japanese, either textbooks or a novel. It's giving me a lot more confidence, but I'm a long way away from fluency. When I get fed up, I knit and listen to language CDs.

The time away in North America and this intense week that I've been home have given me a chance to try new things. On Saturday, I had lunch with two of my Gurei Dojo classmates, and we caught up and talked about work and school. This was a treat to hang out with them over a leisurely Indian lunch. My usual anxiety about losing my Japanese language skill after time away from the country abated talking to these guys, and they're patient with me and grin a little when I catch their subtle corrections of my idiomatic expressions. The language becomes less and less of an issue. I missed these guys over the summer, and I miss a few of our other dojo members who've returned to their countries.

At Kasukabe, it was bitter-sweet being back for my first session of the fall - happy to see my teacher and classmates, but sad missing people who've returned home. It was a hot and sticky Saturday afternoon, and Sensei had us take our time with the movement. The lovely visiting guy was a treat to train with. We were working on what Sensei had given us - some control using kimon and koshijutsu, and we just flowed and didn't worry about the waza, colour inside the lines of Sensei's shape and feeling, and then just play. We laughed, probably out of surprise and wonder. After, GW suggested we go to a new place, Tori-den, for dinner, and we had kamameishi. We caught up, talking about the fall festivals we want to participate in wearing armour and bearing swords. This fall, we'll have some opportunities to go all samurai together.

On Sunday, I went into Tokyo a little earlier than my appointment to shop at  Seijo Ishii Ebisu, the import grocery store in the Atre Mall at Ebisu Station. They're all over Tokyo, but this one was on my way to my Shinjuku appointment. The hunt was on - granola and yoghurt. All of August, I ran on granola, yoghurt, fruit and coffee every morning, and felt healthy. Granola's not a staple in Japan, so I hardly ever see it here, but Seijo Ishi has a good selection of oatmeal, muesili and granola, and I got a big bag for Y1000 that should last me a month.

In the afternoon, I attended the Nihilist meeting and reading. The reading was really juicy, lots of points to discuss. I'm happy to be back with a fresh perspective on the passages we chunk through. Something that really struck me was a passage about fruitless toil versus productive Work, and how, in the moment, you, mere mortal, really can't determine which effort you put your shoulder to will be a bust and which one will unlock riddles. Sometimes the daftest ideas or apparent failures have amazing results you couldn't anticipate. The design is there, but you are collecting puzzle pieces with no image save the bright light. And that's maybe all it is. A big bright light. Rabbi ben Clifford says, Don't worry about it! The evening Mass, my first, was so rich with meaning and wonder. It brought out such a variety of feelings in me. One moment I felt like a little girl at Christmas, eyes filled with the spectacle and eagerly anticipating the next line or gesture, and in the next, standing apart from adult myself watching me take a big breath to collect my thoughts and put into perspective some recent events and just feel some compassion for me and my companions. I felt a little shaky and overwhelmed in the ceremony, what with all the messages and meaning that I wanted to grok right away, but my mind was much quieter after.

Last night, after work, I got up the nerve to go to the The Pink Cow in Shibuya for the first time to attend the twice monthly Stich & Bitch. I didn't know what to expect, and I was pleasantly surprised at the casual atmosphere, cool music, and really nice people. They're not just knitters. They're knit nerds, the best kind. They're working on really complicated things like lace sweaters, fairisle patterns and intarsia. I felt kind of dorky with my little scarf that I alternately knit and rip out (I've blown a few rows because I can't quite read the way the stitches interact). But it was a treat to get to know these funny, intelligent, career minded real women over knitting and White Russians. Because everybody is bilingual, it was a comfortable atmosphere to get to know folks.

Sure, I'm skipping out of Soke's class to knit, but I'll come every other week to dojo. Sensei, they say knitting improves manual dexterity. It'll help my sword work. I'll knit him leg warmers.