The Mind's Movement

I've got a couple days of teaching seminars going on now. It's been hectic and I am tired a lot. It's been a busy week.
On Friday night I went to a 'drinking party' with the teachers from my current school and it was madness--everyone was smashed by the end including me!! It was fun! All the teachers let loose and were talking about each other. I couldn't believe how open they were about all their thoughts and opinions cause they are normally polite and professional--'so and so Sensei is sooo cute, so and so Sensei is sooo immature...' The vice-principal, more than slightly inebriated invited me to go fishing with him the next day!!
I couldn't go. The next morning, Saturday, I got up early and went to pick oranges with one of the teachers I teach with. They are mandarin oranges, called 'mikan' in Japanese, and they are small and super sweet and yummy. After that we got bento box lunches and I went to Aikido practice in the city.
On Sunday I got up early and went to an Aikido seminar with Suganuma Sensei, the 9th dan up in Fukuoka City. Afterwards, there was another drinking party, so I went, but didn't drink cause I was driving, you know? But got to talk with Suganuma during the festivities about Aikido, ask real philosophy questions--luckily there was a guy who could translate. I jokingly asked him to tell me the secrets of the universe, but he thought about it and then took my question seriously. The translation came back something like: 'we are the mystery, this moment we are living is the secret, the movement of the universe, the mind's movement, those are the secrets. Yet, they are not really secrets.' It was an awesome time, to talk with him and to have the freedom to ask him questions and listen to his answers. I wish I could tell you more about that. I have little time now.
So today, I got up early again for a teaching seminar, and there's another one tomorrow. A lot of getting up early. I can't wait until there's a moment to breathe.

Thanksgiving

I went in to watch the end of basketball practice today at #2 Middle School. I took off my shoes and set them on the wooden rack, peeked my head into the gym and tiptoed inside. A chorus of 'konnichiwa's rang out, so I gave up trying to appear invisible, stood up straight and weaved my way to the far side of the gym towards the stage.
Not one minute after I jumped up the side to take a seat on it did a student run to the back and bring a chair for me to sit in. Because I am a teacher, I shouldn't sit on the stage floor where it might be dirty or uncomfortable. The students consider it their job to take notice of their teachers' comfort, especially a guest teacher, and we also consider it our job as teachers to take care of them and do our best for them. Now I understand, it is not that we are not human, but we all have a job to do. The student's job was to get me a chair. My job in turn, was to be grateful for the favor and accept it. I don't mean to be presumptuous. This culture is still as foreign to me as the first day I set foot here in so many ways. Yet, I've finally learned how to accept a favor because I know I will eventually have my turn to give one. This makes living in Japan make sense. There is hardly room for independence because we all work so hard to fill each other's needs. The Japanese people I know seem to love to need each other.
Perhaps you'd be shocked, like I was, the first time I asked the students to answer questions aloud in class. Undoubtedly, after the question was asked, the student would turn to her friends who would promptly give her the answer. She would then turn back to me and repeat what they had told her.
If they are working on an assignment, students lean over and copy each other's work. Sometimes, while doing classwork, a student will get up, walk to his friend's desk, read his paper and go back and sit down. This is TOTALLY ALLOWED. It happened today in school; it happens every day. The teacher's don't pay attention. The students are supporting one another and it makes the teachers feel happy, regardless of whether anyone's learning anything. This is culture. It effects everything, it is seeping through every interaction, every word said or not said, and it's impossible, confusing, amazing and enlightening to me. I see the world from such different eyes than I thought.

I thought about Thanksgiving in the cafeteria today. I remembered several things that I am thankful for. Looking around me, I felt thankful for the smiles surrounding me on the student's faces, which reminded me of my cousin Jody's beautiful smile. Then I remembered the sound her sister Rebecca's laugh, and I felt grateful for that memory. Of course, that led me to think of my Aunt Cheryl, who sends me lots of reassuring emails and also has quite a wonderful laugh. Her brother, my dad, is wonderful because he keeps being curious about everything in life and he spreads that curiousity to me and my brothers. My's dad's wife is the same way, and she also helped him find a lot of himself, I think. My bro Jason. I trust him so deeply. After all this time he seems to be okay with looking out for his little sister. Zach, brother-o-mine has a beautiful heart, full of righteous love. And my mom. Do you know she sends me letters every week?? I find my mother's love defies definition. Now, I'm forgetting the unforgetable Uncle Bill and Uncle Larry, who both offer support to the entire family in different ways, tangible and intangible.
Finally, I would like to take a moment for squirrels. I know two people that are made very happy by them, and that makes me happy.
I think about people at home every day. I think about this beautiful culture here, and how it has made me feel grateful for others in ways I never conceived of. I believe in Thanksgiving, because it gives us a reason to speak up and say how we feel, as long as that feeling is one of thanks. So I'm happy I have a lot to say thanks for this year(family, aikido teachers and friends, music friends, friend friends, friend friend friends(you know who you are)).

I got up and folded my chair at about 6PM. The teams were just about to start playing again. As I jumped off the stage and began to walk towards the door, the basketball coach and one of the English teachers I teach with stopped me to ask if I'd like to come out with the teachers sometime (to drink!). I said 'sure!', as the buzzer went off and the kids bolted to midcourt to resume their game. I continued walking slowly to the far door, hoping to avoid being noticed and causing a delay in the game. Instead, I heard the squeak of 22 sneakers dash up behind me and the squeak/clomp of one student with a foot in a cast. I turned around, taken aback, as they all stand in a line before me. I then heard: "Kyotsuke! Rei!(Call to attention! Bow). "Thank you very much [for watching]!!"
Happy Thanksgiving Everyone

The Awesomeness That Is Sumo

Sumo. The very word conjures up images of tubs and refridgerators of men, massive hulks of human beings stomping their feet, slapping their bellies, and tearing each another apart. But actually witnessing these men up close, passing by them on the way into the arena as they klip-klop down the hallway in wooden sandals and light cotton robes, is a truly awe-inspiring and fear-ekoving event.
These are Mountains of men in these robes, each aspiring to attain the rank of Yokozuna, or lifetime Grand Champion. They head towards the changing room, where they will remove the robe(my personal favorite was the cotton candy colored one with the sky blue belt, on this man-beast bigger than the size of two Julies put together), and don the infamous loincloth belt, the unchanging mark of the sumo wrestler for approximately 1500 years.

I got a free ticket to the Annual Fukuoka Sumo Competition, one of six fifteen-day competitions that occur during the year in cities throughout Japan. My friend's friend couldn't go at the last minute and forfeited his own ticket worth $120 bucks, so my friend called me up and offered it to me. I felt like I was like being blessed with this ticket, yet the only priests involved would be Shinto ones, dressed in fanciful outfits, shouting words of inspiration to arm-locked giants inside a 15' ring!!

We arrived at the sumo hall around 11am, unknowingly way too early for the real action. The matches of the lower ranked divisions had begun at 9am, and continued until 2pm. You see, I thought these matches were the show. My eyes were glued to the ring at all times. Some of the men would strut into the ring like a nearly naked Hell's Angel, and others would have surprisingly little presence for their size. After a man with a fan would sing a short prayer-like song, the two wrestlers would enter the ring, bow to each other, and head to the sides of the ring to begin the ritual of clapping and stomping their feet. Meanwhile, the priest(authentic? I'm not sure)/referee would sing the names of the competitors. His outfits were supremely colorful, sometimes covered with dragons, or even gold-stitching. The men would return to face one another and begin a strange dance-like ritual of standing up and stomping(some of them could do a full split, sending one leg high into the air)and kneeling on their haunches, standing and shuffling around, and kneeling again. This ritual had the effect of building suspense and energy within the crowd. Finally they kneeled on their haunches one last time, staring through one another.
Then, the instant their knuckles touch the ground, they burst forth like elks in mating season. Yesterday, I believe I witnessed at least 3 broken ribs, a number of possible broken legs, and a man who looked in enough pain that he might have fractured part of his spine. We're talking fierce intensity here, as they try to down one another. And to think, these were just the lower divisions.
I didn't know that all the champs were just waiting their turn for the chance to enter the ring later in the day. Since they only have one match per day, they save the most exciting matches of the highest ranks for the very end. In fact, many of these big name sumo guys didn't arrive until after the lower division was finishing. A large crowd gathered outside the arena to welcome them in, cheer them on and swoon over them as they entered the arena. I watched, and felt very strange because I didn't know any of the men's faces, not until I watched them fight and a few of them became permanently etched in my brain.
The rituals of the upper division were considerably longer then the lower. They would enter, bow, go to the back, stomp their feet, toss some salt into the ring, return to face each other, stomp, head back, throw more salt, and repeat a third time. The third time was literally the charm, when the competitors actually showed some expression and raised the level of anticipation by slapping their bellies extra hard. The third time they headed to the back of the ring they wiped their bodies with a wash cloth, possibly a wash cloth containing a offensive odor seeing how their spirit would rage after wiping themselves clean. The sound of slapping bellies resounded through the arena, and we all awaited the instant their knuckles would touch the ground, sending two four hundred-pound boulders toward each other with only one intent: to make the other exit the ring or touch the ground first.
The matches generally lasted for a very short time, 30 seconds or less, but the most exciting matches would involve almost-wins and turnarounds. One match, a guy in purple with a firey look and one in black ended with the two flipping over, landing on the rim and tumbling down onto the surrounding judges on the sides. We couldn't tell who had touched first, and neither could any of the judges. After they held a 2-minute conference, it was decided that they would fight again. I believe this was unusual, because normally the men only have one fight in the entire day. So they faced off, and the belly slapping turned into body slapping and face jerking, and generous scoops of salt being chucked into the ring. It was the fridge in purple that reigned in the second match and was pronouced the winner in the end.
After the last match, a wrestler came into the ring with a kyudo bow, and twirled it at lightning speed, signifying the closing of the games of day eight of the competition.
I will not deny that I would gladly return to sit all day in a box smaller than a tissue box, with three other people who are also scared of fierocious men, every day this week if I were so blessed. The dream that was yesterday has expanded my mind once again, and endeared me even more to those things which make Japan great.

check out:
http://www.crystalinks.com/sumo.html
for info on sumo

http://www.mouthshut.com/readreview/23201-1.html
for more details on sumo life

http://www.japantimes.co.jp/sumo.htm
for the standings after yesterday's fights

Arao #2 Middle School

Arao #2 Middle School(Arao Dai Ni Chugakko) is so different from #1 Middle School that I still can't believe they're in the same town. Besides having a third of #1's student population, it also has new facilities, Japanese and western-style toilets(a real luxury in these schools), wood paneling, wood floors and huge chalk boards that are curved slightly inward at the ends. The boards can be raised or lowered to the teacher's liking by a metal bar underneath. Everything in this place is new. Everything works, and people know where everything is. #2 Middle School students don't seem to know how lucky they are. They attend the smallest middle school in the city, have the smallest classes and get personal attention every day. Consequently, their relieved ALT(a.k.a me) can actually remember some of their names.

Every day, at all the schools there is a break period after lunch. After the break period is cleaning time. Everyone cleans, the students, the teachers and even the principal. No one ever complains about or neglects their cleaning, they just do it. Their attitude, however unconscious it may be, always impresses me.
At #1 Middle School, cleaning time was somber. The children would wait for the bells to chime, bow to one another, and cleaning would begin. Some would sweep the cement floors, some would scrub the floors with rags, some would wipe the windows, and so on. No talking is allowed, but at #1 Middle School, they scarcely even made eye contact. It was quite a sobering time.
At #2 Middle School, the loud speakers blast 'Yankee Doodle', followed by some ragtime, followed by Vivaldi's 'Spring', followed by some disco music. As we merrily sweep, dust and wipe away, kids in the halls have relay races to see who can dash its full length the fastest; feet on the wood, hands on the rag, rag on the floor, and butt straight up in the air--go! It's the cutest thing since Hello Kitty. I'll try to get a picture.

Yesterday, I went in to observe the basketball and badminton teams. This is something I never did at #1 Middle School. I always felt like I wanted to leave #1 as soon as school was over. But here, at 'Nichu'(#2), I want to stay longer. Because my classes are smaller, I already recognize students, and so I feel more comfortable. I was surprised to see how good the kids were at bastketball, and to see that it was coed. I was just as surprised to see that the badminton team was not that good, basically hitting shuttle cocks in every direction. I wondered where their coach was.

There was a new student in school today, and the English teacher was assigned to orient him, so I taught my first class 100% alone today. Technically, according to my contract that's never supposed to happen, but I was expecting it anyway eventually, seeing as all the teachers are so busy.
The seventh grade class is only in their first year of English, so I think that class was probably an English blur to them, but luckily we got through it okay, and I think I'm still ultra-cool/weird/creature-from-outer-space-like in their eyes. Just the way I like it. ;)

So maybe, all in all, school is getting easier, except for 'killer Wednesdays'. 'Killer Wednesday' is when I teach six classes in a row to elementary school kids that don't understand me, and, just to be fair, I don't understand them. I converse with teachers all day long without actually understanding a word they say. In fact, I think no actual understanding takes place the entire day. 'Killer Wednesdays' are my 'very unhappy' days.
Good thing they only come on Wednesdays. 'Killer Wednesdays' on any other day just wouldn't be right. Ok, ha ha.

So, I... um... I joined the school tennis team today.

Kyoto and the 15th Rock

Kyoto was no less than a dream come true. It abounds with castles, temples, gardens, old style houses, covered plazas, original and classic foods, etc., etc., and of course, the treasured Japanese Maple tree, the pride and joy of the city. Upon arrival, the trees were just beginning to share their gift for color. Japanese Maples bring back fond memories of my childhood in Pennsylvania.
My company was Steve Delp, who is in from Boulder vacationing for a few weeks here. We met up at the Kyoto Station and headed off to the first of many wonderful meals, this one being an assortment of incredible edibles served in stacked boxes. The Kyoto Imperial Palace was our first stop, and while inside the palace walls, we stopped to sample treats, from pink pound cake to salty seaweed squares being handed out under a mini-market of tents. The palace grounds were huge, but it was hard to make an impression beyond that; we came too late in the day to get inside the inner walls and have a look at the actual palace itself.
No cause for alarm, however, we got our fill of castles and temples. We traveled to the largest temple, Nanzenji, which was Steve's favorite, and strolled around the gigantic complex of gardens and buildings, finally to find ourselves at the top of the tallest temple just in time to catch the sun setting behind the distant mountains. It looked like an egg yolk suspended, then disappearing gently into a mound of white batter. All along the crowded banister there was not a sound the moment the yolk touched the floury mixture.
We traveled to nearly all corners of the city, walking the Philosopher's Path in the east--we didn't see any philosophers--to the Arashiyama area with its famous zen rock garden on the western end.
I especially liked the zen gardens. We saw two, the first of which was made with only raked pebbles and fifteen large rocks. It is said that one can only see fourteen of the rocks at one time when looking out from the meditation hall, no matter the angle from which they are viewed. After viewing, moving and viewing again, I found the legend of the invisible fifteenth rock to be true. It is also said that the garden will reveal its meaning to the mind given the proper view and time. I only sat with it for twenty minutes or so, but I got a small tidbit revealed to me. As vast as the mind can see, there is always a component that is hidden from conscious thought, an ineffable beauty to life. That is what the fifteenth rock told me ;)
The other rock garden was spread throughout a lovely scene, set amongst trees and shrubs, mossy slopes and reflected by a lake. The rocks stood like quiet mountains, hardly saddened at all by the swarms of loud tourists chattering and chirping all around.
Kinkakuji Temple, or the Golden Pavilion, was to good to be true. This is a temple that is covered with a sheet of gold. It stands over a glimmering lake, in which its reflection shines brilliantly. I tried to imagine being there in front of the temple alone; I wanted to feel its religious inspiration, to soak it its beauty, to stay with it until the sun changed it from yellow to gold to glowing, but there were people in every direction. Hundreds, it seemed like thousands of tourists were endlessly snapping pictures. So I snapped my picture and weaved my way through the crowd to the other end of the path.
Earlier that day, on the advice of Steve's Lonely Planet Japan, we visited the Daikakuji Temple, also towards the west end of Kyoto. This temple was my dream come true. It was not huge or overrun by tourists, the trees were all colors and to me, the temple eminated tranquility. It was the only structure where I witnessed zen monks--three of them, apparently on their daily routine, walking out to begin a circle around a large pond. I wanted to stay at Daikakuji all day. Back on the bus, looking at the map, we realized the guidebook had actually directed us to Daitokuji Temple, not Daikakuji, and that neither of our books mentioned the one we had seen, explaining the lack of crowds and perhaps the less flamboyant appearance. I was thrilled at our accidental discovery.
Kyoto's night life seems to be filled with prostitutes, "gentlemen's 'snack' bars", and drunks from what I could see. Yet, they might be hard to spot if you are not used to seeing prostitutes in gowns with gloves and diamond earrings, and drunks in suits who never seem to cause a commotion. I, fortunately, decided against visiting the inside of a 'snack' bar.
Nightlife aside, I found Kyoto to be enchanting and every bit the dream I had imagined. There were several points during the trip when I said aloud, 'I could live here.'
It would be interesting to hear Steve's viewpoint of the trip because I'm sure he remembers things that I've already forgotten. Maybe I can post some of his thoughts.
Since returning, I've already had another six classes at elementary school(I'm desperately trying to get my schedule changed to less classes on elementary days) and (today) started at Arao #2 Middle School. Life goes on at the speed of life.

'I feel the earth, move...'

Last night, at 3:13am I awoke to an earthquake. I have one minute to tell you about it.

I was not scared. On the contrary, I felt a connection with this planet that I hadn't felt before. The earth seemed almost... ALIVE.
The shake itself lasted only about four or five seconds, and there was one tremor about five minutes afterwards. Yet, it was most extraordinary. I could have never imagined the feeling of awe that accompanied it. To anyone who has not yet experienced a small earthquake, I highly recommend you go out and find one. ;)

Ha ga ga ga, well blows me down!!!

I'm off to Kyoto tomorrow morning for five days. Going to Kyoto in the fall will be a dream come true.