Last Lesson with Fukunari-sensei

It was a little more inconvenient to get to my lesson this morning because of the rain.  And I felt slightly sick and not fully prepared or invested in learning Japanese.  Or maybe my reticence was knowing that it would be the last lesson.  I thought several times about emailing Fukunari-sensei to cancel it, but I realized that none of these reasons, even in the composite, was enough to warrant a cancellation.  So I wrote a short essay yesterday and reviewed the lesson, and made my way to her apartment this morning.

I had come with a small gift that I bought for her from the trip to Kyoto last weekend.  It was less a goodbye present and more of a response to the box of cookies that she gave me for giving her a ticket to the Morning Chamber Music Concert.  I had thought about a final gift but couldn't get what I wanted to give her, a photography book of places in America.  I gave her the sour plum tea with gold flakes and before we began the lesson she asked if this would likely be our last.  I said yes, it probably would.  So she left the room and came back with a desk supply holder upon which she had painted flowers.  It was already wrapped in plastic.  I thanked her as I envisioned the closet filled with ready-to-go gifts, beautiful hand-made things that she had made in preparation for a material show of kindness and appreciation.  Not a bad way to spend an afternoon.

We spent a lot of time talking in Japanese, and then she read over my essay.  It was short and just about how much I've enjoyed my time in Japan and how I would like to share some of the admirable qualities of Japanese culture when I return to the states.  There were some difficult expressions to communicate in it, especially with this last sentiment.  I could see her trying to come up with a good way to phrase it.  I still have so much to learn about politeness courtesy.  It suddenly felt audacious to even suggest that I would be capable of sharing any of the qualities that I had hoped to learn in Japan.  Young grasshopper, indeed.

We finished the lesson unceremoniously.  There seems to be a good chance that I will see her next year as her friend is suggesting that they travel to America.  Of course I invited her to be in touch should she be in the same place.  And she encouraged me to also be in touch with her, which I will surely try to do if I'm not too afraid of Japanese in two months.  Even if I am.  It has been wonderful to have her as a teacher.

Moving On Moving Out

Moving out time is getting hotter.  I've been in touch with the next tenant of my apartment about passing along certain items and he requested some pictures of the apartment.  I took them and then realized what a state of transition I'm currently in.  The rooms are sparse and cluttered.  And I made latkes for a dinner party last night, because these things need to be eaten.  I'm sifting through the cupboards and pantries and closets.  It's that time of life.  

Speedy Summer

The cicadas are starting.  They're late but it's understandable.  The rainy season keeps going and the air just can't get as hot as it usually is by this time in the summer.  This is by no means a complaint.  The only sad thing about this is that I have a little less material with which to empathize with strangers.  It isn't really hot.  And it isn't really cold.  And beyond that, what is there to be said?  We aren't suffering enough.  But I can hear the cicadas beginning to begin.  In the early morning they start and then take a break.  In the evening they are singing before they sleep.  Before I leave, I imagine that they will have acquired their full potential and send me off in true Japanese summer fashion.  I don't have much left of it.

Fourth of July in Kyoto (Sanzen-in and Hosen-in)

Some friends and I went to Kyoto this morning to visit two temples in the north east, Sanzen-in and Hosen-in.  We had intended to then do some pottery in the afternoon, but the gardens were so beautiful that it seemed a shame to hurry back to Kyoto when we could roam in the green rain.

we took a bus from central Kyoto out of the city and into the surrounding mountains

walking up a path lined with vendors

a local mascot, woman carrying wood on top of her head

vendors along the way

garden inside Sanzen-in

the grounds of Sanzen-in

Sanzen-in

faces in the moss (Sanzen-in)

Can you find them all?  (Sanzen-in)

in the roots

hydrangea garden

bridge over the stream connecting to hydrangea gardens

under tall naked trees

many many

decorated

sour plum tea with gold flakes 

sweet matcha tea with gold flakes

leaving Sanzen-in over the shops to the misty mountains

crane and turtle garden
the ponds are the wings of the crane, the turtle is the green to the left
they in peace and harmony

drinking green tea while staring at the 700 year old tree
(Not pictured, the ceiling panels were once the floor of this place upon which 400 years ago defeated samurais committed ritual suicide.  The blood stains were still visible.)

contemplating the tree and sipping matcha

matcha and old tree 

listening to the sound of enlightenment
it sounded like little clicks with an occasional ding, perhaps the echoing of water sounds down the bamboo tubes
I looked under the planks for the source of enlightenment but found nothing

shiso (sour plum leaf) soft serve

shiso leaves
something for which this area is famous

After taking the bus back to central Kyoto and then the train back to Takarazuka, we met some friends and had Indian for dinner.  Something to celebrate the birth of a nation.

Morning Chamber Music Concerts (a beginning at HPAC)

It feels so good to share something and have it be received and feel that resonance.  Beginning a sound and knowing others heard it, feeling that sympathetic vibration of understanding, at least at some level.  And hoping that it will continue to vibrate and carry on.  And learning how better to restart it and let it live longer and longer, forever and for everyone.  

Ready Becoming

Wow.  It's July.  And that means that it is the month before I move back to America.  How did that happen?  And yet at the same time, I feel very ready.  I remember thinking that I could not possibly ever be ready to move back to America, and yet with the passing of time, I have become so.  Amazing how that happens.  I think as I grow older I've come to trust the readiness that time will provide.  What will I do when I get up in the morning?  What will I be doing in several months?  In the coming years?  I think it will become clear when it needs to, perhaps not without some punctuated stress to fuel the fire, but I trust that time will prepare the state that needs to be.  I'll be ready.  I already am.

Busy Day

The wind and rain were stronger than most typhoons we have in this area.  But by the afternoon it had dissipated to innocent clouds and a striking sunset that lit up the swollen river and rice paddies.  The whole world glowed gently, exhaling from a tumultuous morning.