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japanwiththedybs · 7 years

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The Culture of Japan - Part 1

October 30, 2017

Kon’nichiwa

We are home, still trying to re-set the body clock, not fully unpacked, but we have seen most of the family, cut the grass and finished one whole load of laundry. Fall is in it’s peak of majestic beauty in Michigan and I still have flowers blooming, - which is strange for Oct. 30. It is time to wrap up my thoughts about Japan and start thinking about my next adventure.

Japan was not really on my “visit before I die” list, but when contacted by friends we have met on other traveling adventures planning a trip to Japan, we said, yes!

I love traveling. It opens my mind and my heart. It humbles me and makes me realize that the world is huge and yet very tiny and that my experiences and knowledge are so limited. The number of ways people world-wide are similar is so very plain to see and the ways we are different is always fascinating.

Culture is defined by Dictionary.com. as “The sum of attitudes, customs, and beliefs that distinguishes one group of people from another. Culture is transmitted, through language, material objects, ritual, institutions, and art, from one generation to the next.” I love to see the geology of a country and stick my toe in their history, but really what I want from travel is to explore another country’s culture.

We, as Americans, get very little education on the Far East. One has to seek it out, for it is not included in standard curriculum which continues to be Western Civ oriented. Now - I confess it has been a while since I selected history courses, and I hope that has changed, but I’m guessing it has not. A trip to Japan, China or Thailand leaves most Americans in my age group with little knowledge of the history of those places. Yes, we have some modern history, WWII, Viet Nam War, Mao’s Cultural Revolution - but the history of civilizations that are 1000s of years old need more exploration than the last 80 years. Despite our best effort, learning the complete history in 3 weeks is impossible so we leave it to our guide to present us with a frame work and slowly fill it in as we tour the country.

Additionally, our news is very America-centric so our day to day knowledge of major events impacting our global community is greatly limited. For example, when we were in Thailand two years ago the buzz was all about who would succeed frail King Bhumibol Adulyadej, (aka King Rama IX,) the longest serving monarch in the world. His son was considered unworthy and ill prepared as he had spent his life as a playboy and gambler living comfortably on his family’s fortune and demonstrating no interest in Thailand or the function of ruling, - OR his eldest daughter, who was very much involved in the works of the government, morally upstanding and highly intelligent. She had only one problem - she was female. The monarchy in Thailand holds ultimate power and to criticize the king or his family certainly means prison.

So the king dies, October 13, 2016 and the mourning period begins as does the building of the crematorium that will be used to cremate the King’s body, one year from the date of his death following strict Buddhist teaching. 120 million US Dollars later - ta-da!

A golden crematorium and the son is king - and he brought his wife and mistress to the funeral - outraging the people. Thailand is home to 68.6 million people who have lived in a stable government for the last 70 year under Rama IX. What will happen? Will it impact me sitting safely in Saline? Probably not, but would it benefit us to know about this and to try and understand the Thai people and the Buddhist religion? 488 million people or 1/6 of the world are Buddhist after all. I’m just saying.... it couldn’t hurt.

Anyway - back to Japan. 95 - 98% of Japanese people are Buddhist AND Shinto. As in all religions there are many sects and the Buddhism sect we saw in Japan looks very different from the Buddhism we saw in Tibet and/or Nepal. It was kinda’ Buddhism tamped down. Yes, lots of Buddhist temples, lots of Buddhist statues but no prayer wheels, nor prayer flags, nor stupas and cremation for everyone. Until the Kama and Buddhist Separation Act of 1868 - the Shinto and Buddhist religion in Japan were combined. Every house we visited had a Buddhist and Shinto Shrine in their home.

On Miyajima Island we passed a few very nicely dressed people sitting in a garage with tables and a photo of an elderly man. Our guide stopped and engaged them conversation. They were people of the community attending to the funeral of the man in the photo.

Later I asked our guide to describe the funeral process. Her is what she told me: In villages around Japan most people die at home. A town elder is called and officially declares the death. In bigger cities, should a person die in a hospital, their body is quickly returned home. When a death occurs, the shrines are closed and covered with white paper to keep out the impure spirits of the dead, The body is washed and a female is dressed in a white kimono and a man in a black suit or black kimono. During life, both men and women cross the front of a kimono or yukata with the left side over the right. On those occasions in which the corpse is clothed in a traditional kimono, the kimono is crossed right over left. Make up is encouraged. The body is then place on dry ice in the casket. - YEP - dry ice! 6 coins are added to the casket, the fee needed for the River of Three Crossings - leaving this life and doing to a new place. The casket is turned according to the family’s Buddhist beliefs with the head facing north or west. Then a wake is called.

As soon as the priest is available, the guests are seated, with immediate relatives seated closest to the front. The Buddhist priest then chants a section from a sultra. The family members will each offer incense three times to the incense urn in front of the deceased. At the same time, the assembled guests will perform the same ritual at another location behind the family members' seats. The wake ends once the priest has completed the sutra. The closest relatives may stay and keep vigil with the deceased overnight in the same room.

The following day a similar ceremony occurs but the priest give the dead person a new name to prevent the dead from returning when the name is said. Following this ceremony the body is taken to the crematory and the head mourner (oldest male) pushes the tray holding the body into the crematory fire. The family leaves but is given a time to return to gather the ashes and bones. This process is highly regulated with the closest family members selected to pick up the bones in order from the feet to the head. The family uses large metal chopsticks and bones are often passed from person to person before going into the box. To pass ANYTHING other than bones from a cremation in this manner would be horrifyingly rude.

What happens next is very regional.. In some areas the family moves directly to the family tomb and places the box in there. In some areas the box comes home for one year and in others the contents on the box is divided into many boxes and given to family members. There is only one place in Japan - a very remote island - where interment of the entire body occurs. In this island the bones are collected after one year.

After this happens, the shrines in the home are re-opened and a photo of the deceased it added to other family photos.

The cemeteries are small and frequent. A family has ONE tomb and the family name and crest are on the tomb.

Behind the tomb are slots for Buddhist prayer sticks. Family members buy these and put them on the tomb wishing the family the best in the new life.

Our guide shared with us that she has not decided where she will be after death. She and her husband were unable to have children and this has made a relationship with her in-laws very difficult. A woman automatically is buried in the family tomb of her husband - but today woman have a bit more flexibility. She is not sure she cares to spend the ever after with her in-laws but does want to be with her husband. She may opt to have a little bit of her bones and ash placed in her parent’s family tomb - for comfort.

Two more things: If the tomb has a red bib tied to it it means a baby or young child has passed. And the second thing is that there is an expectation that the cemetery will be cleaned regularly. If suddenly a grave has grass growing around it or looks like the headstone needs to be cleaned it probably means the family no longer exists. On confirmation - the community takes on the responsibility.

Below is a shrine to children. Families change the red bibs as they fade. This shrine is seen as a great protection for all children and is 100s of years old.

That ends today’s post. One more post about the history of Japan and the importance of Commodore Perry - but not the same Commodore Perry of the Lake Erie fame - and this trip is in the books.

Stay tuned!

Sayonara.

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retracingpoliphilo · 7 years

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Building In Time

Beloved Reader:

I first drafted this Oct. 27, 2012, revisited Oct.12, 2013, Oct. 30, 2015, Jan. 12, 2016. Since drafting my thought has evolved on time and dimensionality quite a bit, much of it culminating recently. I did not revise any of the below to reflect that yet, as 1 - it hasn’t synthesized for me yet, 2 - My reason for posting this has more to do at the moment with the dynamics of living and working together as humans in our larger world, ideas and directions on where we perhaps should be moving towards in terms of resources, value, supporting one another in generative abundance, doing civilization, etc ... So, aside from enjoying, do me a solid and suspend on the time/dimensionality a bit - maybe turn it around in your head and let me know your perspectives? Temporality is a fascinating beast of startling beauty ... Also: I love you, what stories we weave together. Collectively Stewarding Abundance Enjoy, with love

<3Karja Cygnus -----

See, the thing you have to understand about the fourth dimension", she begins to explain, "is that its much more than just time - in fact, time is to the fourth dimension as movement is to the third - its simple the visible interaction within its fabric. The fourth is the dimension of cause and effect, action and reaction, push and pull, give and take. Time is the surface upon which this is visible to us. Therefore, time is manipulable, there is no such thing as a paradox in time travel - if you change something, it simply nudges the decision branch you're part of in a slightly different direction than the one you came from, as you move in time, you move along potentialities/probabiliies/realities - The question is not paradox, the question is - can you return to your own line of potentiality? …"

At some point her fascinating rambling begins to register less to me, as I register more of her smell, the movement of her hair, the way she uses her entire upper body in her conversational gesturing. I'm hooked. The girl is definitely out of her gourd, but its my type of squash.

"Aaand I've lost you." She laughs. “Where? Please do interrupt - I really get going on some subjects."

"No, its ok - thats why we're here, so you can tell me more about this. But, do you mind if we walk and talk? I'm getting a bit fidgety sitting still, and its so nice out."

She grins. "Of course! Thats perfect actually, I was hoping you might have that inclination. There’s a storm front blowing in, so I need to go and check up on my building sites anyhow, and I can show you a more practical view of the fourth dimension that way."

So I clear and scrape the dishes and she settles up the bill. I'm setting the dishes onto the washrack when the chef taps me on the shoulder as he opens the cooler. "Learn well, she knows her stuff." and there he pauses, digging through the shelf looking for something that is not a carrot, leek or egg which are all that I can see him rummaging unsatisfiededly through. "But be careful - she's wild, breaks men more often than the other way around."

"Oh, thanks, but I'm just here about time-engineering …" I begin, and then stop as he smirks at me.

"uh-huh." He says disbelievingly. "Well, I've been her most common three-squares-and-coffee-a-day for some time now, so please excuse me if I feel I know the look on your face from experience. That may have been all you were after before, but not now. Just know, she's not very good at seeing it, or responding to it."

"Well, thank you for that. I'll keep it in mind." I say, and then hastily depart the kitchen. She is just gathering up her clutter of things from the table, so I join her, grabbing my jacket and leading the way out onto the street.

She stops for a moment, lost in thought, starts and glances around and then gestures me south. "We're going to visit my sites in order of progress. That way you can see the work progress along a trajectory. And, if we don't finish in the time we have, we can just start with the next house in order next time, and so on."

The grange we had met at was on a pedestrian street, with its wooden decking and slight sway of the supporting water below. We turned the corner onto a common traffic street - brick paved, the occasional bike passing through those on feet. Many food carts - I stop briefly at one selling mango.

"PreparadoVerdeSaltGracias." I strung my words together as I handed the coin to the old man and he handed back a small paper sack of green mango strips, dashing salt and giving a feeble squeeze to the half lime in is hand as he did. Walking away from the cart, we were both almost bowled over by three boys racing and chasing each other down the streets, worn canvas sacks of mangos bouncing against their hips. Looking back, I watched as my coin was mingled with others paid by the old man in exchange for the foraged mangos. Sacks emptied, the boys dashed off again to climb more trees with the inexhaustible energy of boyhood.

"So, what do you think of Veniqueno?" she asks, using the longer of the slang terms for Little, or Pequeno, Venice. Once, this area had been known as Little Havana, and before that LIttle River (what?) and before that, and before that … but, here I was, in my head again - instead of responding to the brilliant gorgeous woman at my side.

"It's impressive. I've visited so many of the historic American Cores - from those that failed to transition to those that transitioned fairly well - but ViQue, its thriving like only the better historic European Centers manage to." She gives me a surprisedly appreciative and assessing look.

"Most people don't see that of ViQ, (male name). But I agree. What shapes that opinion for you?"

"Oh, absolutely. Just … stop me if I get going. I have that same tendency with certain subjects as well." She smiles. Wonderful.

"Most places in America, focus, still, after everything we’ve come through, on the aggregate. I can guess at the reasons for that, but will not for the moment. What that seems to lead to is an ongoing struggle with moving beyond to a thriving local scale functionality." (….. continue) ---

Second day at post-wanderchat dinner she flirts casually and invites him up to her place. He begins to acquiesce and then thinks back to what the chef says, and stops.

"Hey. So, I like you. I like you in a serious way it seems and I don't want to get caught up and hopeful in a casual fling, I'd rather just keep it friendly if thats all you're offering. You don't have to answer now, or ever, but I think I'll pass on that coffee for tonight either way." He finishes with what he hopes is a warm smile.

She frowns momentarily and then looks at him with an appraising look on her face, one side of her mouth slightly scrunched up. "Okay." Her face relaxes back into its normal smile, and she tiptoes up to place a light kiss on his forehead before continuing with the half hug and a peck on each cheek which was custom here.

"Meet me at the 14th St ferry terminal for sunrise," she says, as she lets herself into the front gate of her building.

---

(Towards the end of the third visit) We're riding the ferry across the bay towards Miami proper, and she is seated next to me, face turned into the wind, watching the scene pass by. The sun is setting and the sky is glorious. Miami, from my short experience, has the most consistently beautiful skies Ive ever seen. Not necessarily the most spectacularly beautiful, that is saved for places above (pick an altitude) where the sky is more wide open and dominated by different cloud formations. But Miami, so far, has always delivered. Towering clouds which began their lives over the everglades are now marching stately out towards the ocean, lit from behind by the setting sun. The wind, which was pleasant in town, now carries with it a a damp chill which the ferry passengers are sluggishly responding to.

She pulls a light sweater out of her bag and over her head in one continuous action which I don't fully comprehend. Still staring out at the bay she edges into me, huddling against the growing wind. I can't help but heat slightly at her touch. It's been a good day, and I'm feeling hopeful for an answer that realistically may never come.

The ferry slows as the engine sounds and vibrations intensify. The boat is swinging in sideways, and people are gathering along the railing to debark. The lights of the city are just twinkling on as the sun makes its way completely below the horizon.

"I know a great place for fresh fish near here, you game?" she asks. Of course I am, and it has nothing to do with the fish. "Well, I've never really been a fish for fish' sake person - an occasional hankering for Sushi is usually the closest I come. But, if you help me order, I'm game." Is my best attempt at downplaying my willingness.

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