February 2023 - Life is a Journey

Loneliness to Feel, Aloneness to Realize

Which one can I control?

Photo by Author Akemi Sagawa

There is a famous story of the Buddha when he was born. The story is that as soon as he was born, he walked seven steps and uttered, “天上天下唯我独尊. “

There are so many English translations, but let me share with you my own interpretation:

“In the heaven and the earth (the vast world or universe), I exist here alone, and that is precious.”

I was born alone, and I will die alone. No matter how much I love my husband, the death will come to us separately. To me, aloneness describes my state of being or the simple fact of life. In this world, all I can do is realize this truth. I can’t do anything about it.

Loneliness is a state of mind or emotion, something that I feel. And how I feel inside, is determined by me. I have 100% control of how I feel, at least so I wish. I have a choice to be lonely or not. If I feel miserable when I feel lonely, I have a choice not to have such a feeling in me.

It’s becoming more and more important for me to distinguish between what I can control and what I can’t. My time on this earth is limited, and is getting shorter every moment. Anything I can’t control, I accept as it is. I only focus on what I can control, and choose the way I want.

Loneliness to feel ( or not feel, I have a choice), and aloneness to realize ( and I simply accept).

Does it make sense to you?

Things to Keep in Mind When Reading Medium Articles

A chance to expand your horizon

Photo by Thomas Park on Unsplash

When I started reading Medium regularly last fall, I was only sarching topics that I was more familiar with. Keywords I entered in the search field were “Japan,” “inspiration,” and “environment.” I encountered many interesting articles and authors.

Medium sent me email messages full of more articles. Its recommendations were based on articles I read or topics I followed.

After a while, however, I found myself reading similar content from mostly the same authors. It was easy to reinforce what I believe in, but I was not learning new things.

That’s the danger and limitation of not only Medium but any kind of online media, like Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, and Amazon. Their recommendations spitted out by their algorithm are based only on my past behavior. There is no surprise.

How can I replicate a similar experience as I would have in a huge bookstore? How can I encounter a totally new author, topic, or title, and end up selecting a book that I had never thought of?

With Medium, I implement two things.

First, I type some words I never typed before. I’ve never been to Latin America or Africa before, so I type those words. There are so many articles about such topics, and some writers are well-known as experts on these topics.

Second, I gauge my reading time. If the content is so new to me, it takes longer to read than what Medium indicates. My signal is if it takes longer to read, I’m learning something new.

I’m surprised to find out that I enjoy reading poetry, especially English Haiku and Tanka. A genre that I never would have thought I would ever be interested. Now I follow one of the publications of Tanka.

Change the topics to follow once in a while, type in some new keywords, and consciously stick to reading articles that take me longer to read… In order to expand my horizon of curiosities, I’m trying these things when reading Medium.

What is your practice to find new surprises in Medium articles?

I Grew Up Dressed Like This!

My selfie challenge

Photos property of Author Akemi Sagawa

Looking back through my photos in my early years, I noticed that they have become great archives documenting how people used to be dressed in Japan half a century ago!

I must have been 3 years old. Circa 1965. On New Year’s Day, I was dressed in a girl’s kimono, holding a hagoita, a decorative racket-like toy. Quite traditional. But the Western culture was already influencing our lives. Commercialism to celebrate Christmas with a fake tree was already there.

A field trip with my kindergarten class, circa 1966. My mother accompanies us. I wonder how long it took her to set her hairstyle.

Photo Property of Author Akemi Sagawa

The first day of my elementary school, on April 1^st, 1968. The tallest one with a red hat is me. The mothers of my classmates were all in kimono and haori, a jacket, on top of it, the most common formal wear among married women.

In 1970. My mother, my grandmother, and I, standing in front of my father’s car. As far as I can remember, my grandmother was always wearing kimono.

I was the tallest in the class until the 6^th grade. Local clothing stores didn’t have children’s dresses large enough to fit me. So my mother’s good friend and also a mother of my classmate sewed almost all my clothes. My mother also made me like simple skirts. There was no Uniqlo back then. Making clothes at home was not uncommon.

I’m wearing the summer uniform of my middle school. In 1975. We had school on Saturday morning. Ironing the uniform every morning was my chore. I really liked that blue color.

My high school uniform, in 1977. I hated this uniform, and missed my middle school one. No matter how cold it was, girls were to wear skirts. Pants were only for boys.

On the morning of my college graduation day, in 1985. My mother wore her kimono and haori, still considered the most formal wear. I wore hakama, a pair of pants, on my kimono. It was quite trendy to be dressed in hakama for graduation in those days.

After the graduation ceremony, I took off the hakama to attend the more casual graduation reception.

…

I don’t know how many middle and high school students in Japan still wear uniforms today. I have no idea how people dress up for their or their children’s graduations these days.

Right now I’m wearing blue jeans, the world’s defacto uniform! So comfortable, so convenient. But I can’t help but feel nostalgic remembering my old clothes…

This Poem Defines the “Wabi” Spirit of Tea Ceremony

No flowers, no tinted leaves.

Photo by Gabriella Clare Marino on Unsplash

Born a year before the death of Murata Juko, Takeno Jōō (武野紹鴎, 1502–1555) was a tea master who developed further the concept of “wabi” in the Japanese tea ceremony.

Jōō was born to a wealthy merchant in the town of Sakai and spent his youth studying poetry in Kyoto. At the same time, he also practiced tea ceremony and became to be known as a master.

Out of so many classic poems that he studied, Jōō used to recite one particular poem that was written by Fujiwara no Teika (1162-1241), because in this poem he found the essence of “wabi,” the very concept that he pursued in tea ceremony.

見渡せば　Miwataseba
花も紅葉も Hanamo momiji mo
なかりけりNakari keri
浦の苫屋のUrano tomaya no
秋の夕暮れ Akino yugure

The English translation of this poem is introduced in Kakuzo Okakura’s The Book of Tea as below:

“I look beyond;
Flowers are not,
Nor tinted leaves.
On the sea beach
A solitary cottage stands
In the waning light
Of an autumn eve.”

Among us, tea ceremony practitioners today, this poem is a must to recite. No flowers, no leaves. You see only “no-thingness.” Can you see the essence of “wabi” spirit in this poem?

Source: The Book of Tea by Kakuzo Okakura (gutenberg.org)

The Origin of Japanese Flower Arrangement

A small temple in the middle of Kyoto is the birthplace of Ikebana

Rokkakudo Temple in Kyoto: Photo by Author Akemi Sagawa

In the middle of the city of Kyoto, surrounded by tall, modern buildings of steel and concrete, this hexagonal-shaped temple building stands humbly.

Called Rokkakudo Temple, named after its shape (Rokkaku means hexagon), this temple is far from grander. But for us, the students of Ikebana, the art of Japanese flower arrangement, this temple is a place of significance.

The sign of Rokkakudo Temple says “The Birthplace of Flower Arrangement” Photo by Author Akemi Sagawa

Ikebana, as we know it today, dates back to the Muromachi Period in the fifteenth century.

The ruling samurai clan in Muromachi Period (1336 – 1573) started to build gorgeous houses with alcoves called tokonoma. These alcoves became the special space to display a household’s precious treasures. The samurai showed off their ornate vases imported from China by decorating them on the tokonoma.

It was one of the tasks of the Dohoshu, usually Buddhist monks who served the Muromachi shogunate and other powerful samurai clans, to decorate the tokonoma with beautiful flowers and plants.

One day, Ikenobo Senkei（池坊専慶）, a Buddhist monk of Rokkakudo Temple, was invited to a samurai’s residence and made a gorgeous flower decoration. The decoration was so impressive that another monk who saw it wrote how great it was in his journal.

Thanks to this monk’s writing, we know that it was precisely in 1462. Hence Rokkakudo Temple is said to be the birthplace of Ikebana, and the Ikenobo School is said to be the origin of Ikebana.

Ikenobo School is the oldest, and the largest school of Ikebana today. Behind the Rokkakudo Temple is the headquarters of Ikenobo School. Many students come to take classes here.

In front of the headquarters building is an Ikebana sculpture. This sculpture is modeled from a painting of arrangements made by Ikenobo Senko 池坊専好(1575 – 1658).

Source: Ikenobo School Website

The Best Time in Spring is Dawn

Japan’s most famous essay written in the 11^th century “Makura no Soshi” tells so

Photo by Josh Felise on Unsplash

When asked about seasons, a Japanese person, with no exception, would utter “春はあけぼの Haru ha akebono!” Featured in elementary school textbooks, the opening phrase of this famous essay called “Makura no Soshi 枕草子” is so ingrained in our brains.

Makura no Soshi (The Pillow Book) was written by Sei Shonagon 清少納言, a court lady, in the late 990s and early 1000s. In this essay, with her sharp wit, Sei Shonagon depicted her observations about nature and her everyday life in the imperial court.

More than a thousand years later, we still enjoy this essay and learn how the aristocrats in Japan used to perceive and conduct their lives.

Sei Shonagon starts by listing the best time of the day for each season. The best time in spring is dawn, according to her. Below is the English translation of the opening phrases of Makura no Soshi by Ivan Morris (1925 – 1976), an English writer, translator, and editor of Japanese studies. I think his translation reflects the snappy, witty rhythm of the original writing by Sei Shonagon quite well. Here you go!

In spring it is the dawn that is most beautiful. As the light creps over the hills, their outlines are dyed a faint red and wisps of purplish cloud trail over them.

In summer the nights. Not only when the moon shines, but on dark nights too, as the fireflies flit to and fro, and even when it rains, how beautiful it is!

In autumn the evenings, when the glittering sun sinks close to the edge of the hills and the crows fly back to their nests in threes and fours and twos; more charming still is a file of wild geese, like specks in the distant sky. When the sun has set, one’s heart is moved by the sound of the wind and the hum of the insects.

In winter the early mornings. It is beautiful indeed when snow has fallen during the night, but splendid too when the ground is white with frost; or even when there is no snow or frost, but it is simply very cold and the attendants hurry from room to room stirring up the fires and bringing charcoal, how well this fits the season’s mood! But as noon approaches and the cold wars off, no one bothers to keep the braziers alight, and soon nothing remains but piles of white ashes.

Source: The Pillow Book of Sei Shonagon, translated by Ivan Morris

An Idea of Becoming Rich Fertilizer

I learned about Natural Organic Reduction (=human composting)

Photo by Gabi Miranda on Unsplash

The Northwest Flower & Garden Festival was full of garden and plant lovers. Located just an aisle away from the main stage, our Ikebana International Seattle Chapter 19 booth was attracting many visitors.

“How beautiful!” “Oh, I want to learn Ikebana myself, too!” Such words always fuel us volunteers with more passion to serve those visitors with creative flower arrangements to be displayed at the booth.

I was assigned to be sitting at the booth as a host from 6 to 8 pm. Since I got a one-day ticket, I went to Seattle Convention Center early afternoon, so I could walk through the entire event floor before my shift.

Dream gardens with waterfalls and rock patios, many house plants displays, rows of flower bulbs for sale… It was a challenge not to open my wallet compulsively whenever I encountered unique foliage and blossoms. (I bought a couple of bulbs of two types of lilies, Star Gazer and Casablanca.)

My highlight of the day, however, was that I learned about natural organic reduction, a fancy term for human composting.

A Seattle-based startup called Recompose had a small booth. They didn’t have any sample products to try or fancy-looking tropical plants on the booth. Instead, there was a simple circular diagram with a photo of the forest on the panel.

Next to the diagram, there was a US map with Washington, Oregon, California, Colorado, and a couple of states on the east coast highlighted in green. Intrigued, I stopped by and started listening to the person at the booth talking.

According to the salesperson, these states have legalized human composting so far, and many more states are considering it.

The brochure of Recompose says, “For every person who chooses Recompose over conventional burial or cremation, one metric ton of carbon dioxide is prevented from entering the atmosphere.”

My body is nothing more than an accumulation of what I eat. After my death, my body returns to the soil as fertilizer. Not a bad idea.

I’m not ready to rewrite my will yet, but this encounter has ignited my interest in my “Ecological Death Care.”

Ichi-go Ichi-e – The Essence of Tea Ceremony

The phrase also depicts the essence of life

Author Akemi Sagawa served a bowl of Matcha to the guest: Photo by Brian Chu

Before the COVID-19 pandemic, I used to hold a tea ceremony demonstration twice a year at Fran’s Chocolates, a Seattle-based chocolatier.

With a tall ceiling, the venue has such a serene atmosphere. For four days, the venue turned into a space to experience “Senses from Japan.” Those lucky two people who happened to sit in the front row got to enjoy a delicious white chocolate truffle and a bowl of Matcha green tea, served by the host.

When I was making tea as a host, my focus was only one thing: to serve the best tea to the guests, so that they could enjoy the moment to the full. I didn’t know the people who were sitting in front of me. Most likely this was the only time I encountered those people, let alone serve tea to them.

In the tea ceremony, the phrase “ichi-go ichi-e 一期一会” is often used. It means “One time, one meeting.” Each tea gathering is an opportunity for a unique experience that will never occur again. Forget about the past. Forget about the future. Just enjoy the present moment…

But wait! Which moment in time will you be able to repeat? Which moment in your life is not unique? The moment you are reading this article can never be repeated!

Ichi-go Ichi-e is not limited to the tea ceremony. The phrase depicts the essence of our very life. A bowl of tea reminds you of this simple fact of life, that this moment will never come back.

An example of how to create an Ikebana flower arrangement

The process of making an arrangement

Photo by Author Akemi Sagawa

Held in Seattle every February, the Northwest Flower & Garden Festival is an exhibition of horticulture and gardening. It’s the second largest show of this kind in the country.

For 5 days, the usually monotonous event venue is completely transformed into lavish gardens. It’s always a delight to see the latest gardening trends and learn ideas on how to take of plants and landscaping.

Ikebana International Seattle Chapter is a regular participant in this annual festival.

Every year members of our chapter display Ikebana flower arrangements, sit in the booth and answer any questions the visitors might have about Ikebana. Unlike other merchant booths, we don’t sell anything. We simply share the joy of creating our ikebana flower arrangements.

The visitors come from all over the states, even from Canada. Every time we hear words of admiration from those visitors, we feel accomplished. We bring our own flower materials. The parking fee is going up, but we volunteers are happy to be attending the booth because our reward is to hear such admiration. Our hope is many more people get to know the beauty of Ikebana and get interested in learning it themselves.

I was assigned to place my arrangement where people will be looking from not only from the front but from all directions. While breaking symmetry, how can I make something interesting, something pleasing to the eyes? Keeping three basic elements of Ikebana, line, mass, and color, I prepared my arrangement.

I started by creating a horizontal line with forsythia branches. Forsythia’s bright yellow flowers bloom first thing in February in my yard. The buds were still hard, so I cut branches and kept them inside for several days so that they hasten to blossom.

I used a round container with a small opening on top. With this shape of the container, I can place long branches horizontally without tipping over the container.

The lines extend from the center to the side, showing the naturally beautiful curves. I made sure that the tip of the branches extended upwards, not downward, so that the energy flow of the arrangement is uplifting, not sagging. The secret of keeping the branch upward like this is hidden inside the mouth of the container. How exactly? Well, if you take an Ikebana class, the teacher will tell you the tricks you can use. It requires practice to master the trick, however.

Next, I chose camellias. The shiny, thick leaves with vivid green, and the burning red color of the flowers… I thought the camellia will be a nice contrast to the bright yellow of forsythia.

Camellia branches are also pretty long, but I cut them much shorter than those of forsythia. The basic structure of the arrangement is already defined by the lines created by the graceful forsythia branches, and I didn’t want to obstruct the structure by adding too long branches of camellia. Rather, I kept the camellia branches shorter and placed them strategically so that dense green leaves create volume here and there, and red colors on top of it.

The forsythia lines are sparse, and the camellia green leaves are dense in the center. This sparsity and density create a nice rhythm to the arrangement. The vivid red flowers on the tip of the green branches add an accent color.

Lastly, I placed lacy white baby breath in between. Since the color contrast of yellow, red, and green is stark, I wanted to add some softness to the arrangement. Baby breath is such a great material for this purpose. Its lacy flowers, placed delicately on top of the vivid red and green, do not hide them completely. Rather, the baby breath flowers become like a translucent shade to camellia, giving them a somewhat mysterious impression.

I’m not a professional photographer. I tend to believe that the real arrangement is far better than that in the photo above. Hopefully, this article helps you understand the process of how such an arrangement is created.

Our booth was not set ready yesterday, but by now all the arrangements must be complete. I will be going back to our booth again tomorrow evening as a hostess, so I will take photos of all the arrangements and share them with you. Please stay tuned!

Passionate Love, Like River’s Flow

The most passionate love poem in Hyakunin Isshu

Photo by x ) on Unsplash

Ancient Japanese poets weren’t shy and quite good at expressing their passionate love in varieties of ways. Out of 100 poems in Hyakunin Isshu 百人一首, as many as 43 sing about love.

And out of those 43 love poems, which one is the most passionate? I would pick the one below. What does an ancient love poem have to do with the river’s flow, you may wonder…

77/10 崇徳院- Sutokuin

瀬を早み岩にせかるる滝川の　われても末に逢はむとぞ思ふ

THE rock divides the stream in two,
  And both with might and main
Go tumbling down the waterfall;
  But well I know the twain
  Will soon unite again.

Quite an appropriate poem of the river’s flow on this Valentine’s Day, isn’t it?