Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Questions please
Hey, as long as I'm here, anyone have any questions, or something they want to hear about Japan or Kyushu, or culture, etc. etc.?
Monday, February 27, 2006
A bath and Mahler's 4th--not a bad combination.
I moved the speakers into the kitchen so I can listen to music while I cook and eat, and now they are also next to the bathroom.
I can't remember the time before classical music was included in my life. I know there was a time when my palette was empty, and before music's many colors were shared with me. My parents were playing music in our house since before I was born. Many of my comforting childhood memories involve hearing classical music while falling asleep or listening to my parents' brass quintet playing in the living room downstairs, or running around an empty auditorium while my parents were in the middle of an orchestra rehearsal.
My mother devoted so much energy to my own music studies. She sat by my side while I practiced, took me to music camps, and listened to recording with me. I also remember when my dad would come to the lessons. He liked to play Richard Strauss recordings, sometimes at dinner time, even when I was little. I remember playing 'family concerts,' and I remember the sound of the old wooden metronome very clearly. Music seemed endless, like life, at that time.
Somewhere along the way, I gave up wanting to be or thinking I could be a professional. I think it was in high school, but I can't be sure. So now I'm slowly understanding music's place in my life, if not 'center stage.' My palette was empty way back and can still be now. Listening to or playing music is becoming a practice for me. A training, something which helps me to come closer to that person I'd like to become. Until the point at which it ceases to teach me, I consider it a welcome and loving accompaniment to get where I'm going.
Sorry, not Japan related, but I'll get back to that next time.
I can't remember the time before classical music was included in my life. I know there was a time when my palette was empty, and before music's many colors were shared with me. My parents were playing music in our house since before I was born. Many of my comforting childhood memories involve hearing classical music while falling asleep or listening to my parents' brass quintet playing in the living room downstairs, or running around an empty auditorium while my parents were in the middle of an orchestra rehearsal.
My mother devoted so much energy to my own music studies. She sat by my side while I practiced, took me to music camps, and listened to recording with me. I also remember when my dad would come to the lessons. He liked to play Richard Strauss recordings, sometimes at dinner time, even when I was little. I remember playing 'family concerts,' and I remember the sound of the old wooden metronome very clearly. Music seemed endless, like life, at that time.
Somewhere along the way, I gave up wanting to be or thinking I could be a professional. I think it was in high school, but I can't be sure. So now I'm slowly understanding music's place in my life, if not 'center stage.' My palette was empty way back and can still be now. Listening to or playing music is becoming a practice for me. A training, something which helps me to come closer to that person I'd like to become. Until the point at which it ceases to teach me, I consider it a welcome and loving accompaniment to get where I'm going.
Sorry, not Japan related, but I'll get back to that next time.
Saturday, February 25, 2006
Finally, we had a warm day today.
Along with the warmer weather, the Aikido mat was packed tonight.
There seemed to be a positive energy in the air, and I noticed right off that I was able to stretch much further during warm-ups, with what seemed to be to be less effort. I think the coldness has a strong effect on our bodies during practice, and that's why (I think) warm-ups in the winter ought to be long and vigorous. About a month ago, during our 'ki' generating drills, I started to imagine dousing myself with buckets of cold water when we pull our arms down from over our heads. I think that 'visualization' of sorts helps to deal with training in cold weather, but I personally still have a lot of work to do to overcome the effects of cold weather on my training.
Today, I noticed many connections between posture and technique, and posture and ukemi(falling). In keeping my posture aligned, the techniques became almost secondary to the awareness and sense of being balanced that were generated as a result. (My idea of 'posture' is a feeling of keeping my lower back and abdomen in a vertical line with my upper chest, and also keeping my neck and head on the same line. In this way, I feel that my body is moving as one connected unit, rather than separate parts)
Currently, I'm working on engaging the inital connection in ikkyo(first technique) omote(to the front) from the nage(thrower) side, and kotegaishi(wrist twist) rotating on a central/spiraling axis. The kotegaishi stuff is fascinating to me, because it joins together so many other Aikido techniques: shihonage(4-directional throw), kaitennage(revolving throw), and even ikkyo, because they all work with rotating around a center point. There's a few people at the dojo who will work ultra-slow with me while I figure it out more and solidify it. I'm so into it, and I feel that I'll be able to progress very quickly when this becomes second nature. For now, very slow practice.
The ikkyo thing is something that's always been there, like an abstract math problem to be worked through to a reasonable solution, only to be disproven time and time again. Ikkyo is also a constant source of fascination in my practice. Working with that initial point of intention really seems to be the basis of ikkyo. Recognizing and responding to that intention takes awareness at the moment it arises. Therefore, the key to ikkyo seems to be constant awareness, so as to appropriately translate the intentions of oneself and others. That is how it seems.(results from tonight's shomenuchi(front strike) ikkyo practice---->)
If someone knows how to create separate folders in blogger, would you send me an email or a comment?
This kind of blog should go into some sort of 'Aikido Chatter' folder or something.
Monday, February 13, 2006
Princess Kiko's pregnancy
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/4688056.stm
The Japanese Royal Family's tradition is that only a male succeed the throne, and until recently, it looked as if that requirement would have to be reassessed. With the announcement of Princess Kiko's pregnancy last week, conservatives and believers in the 'male-only lineage' of monarchs may have one more shot for peaceful male inheritance threatened now by the current all-female line-up.
The conflict over the issue surrounding male-only succession is one that I doubt I can and will ever fully understand.
I suppose just having it as a tradition itself gives it meaning. For example, we don't go switching around the king and queen's roles on a chessboard every other game. We keep queen as the piece as the queen, a very powerful piece, and king as the king, the most valuable piece for capture. We don't change these rules because times have changed--we keep them the same. For that reason, I can understand the desire to keep a male-only rule.
But what is royal blood to begin with? Royal blood probably began with someone or something great that continued to pass those qualities of greatness through from one generation to the next. In the case of the Japanese Royal Family, it supposedly originated from deities themselves. But I wonder what is considered different about a man's ability to pass down royal blood, and a woman's ability? Or is it something about having a woman in power? I suppose a lack of convincing answers to these questions keep me from understanding the issue.
I don't want to have a discussion about feminism, but it is quite interesting to look at the ferocious energy that issues like this can gather.
The Japanese Royal Family's tradition is that only a male succeed the throne, and until recently, it looked as if that requirement would have to be reassessed. With the announcement of Princess Kiko's pregnancy last week, conservatives and believers in the 'male-only lineage' of monarchs may have one more shot for peaceful male inheritance threatened now by the current all-female line-up.
The conflict over the issue surrounding male-only succession is one that I doubt I can and will ever fully understand.
I suppose just having it as a tradition itself gives it meaning. For example, we don't go switching around the king and queen's roles on a chessboard every other game. We keep queen as the piece as the queen, a very powerful piece, and king as the king, the most valuable piece for capture. We don't change these rules because times have changed--we keep them the same. For that reason, I can understand the desire to keep a male-only rule.
But what is royal blood to begin with? Royal blood probably began with someone or something great that continued to pass those qualities of greatness through from one generation to the next. In the case of the Japanese Royal Family, it supposedly originated from deities themselves. But I wonder what is considered different about a man's ability to pass down royal blood, and a woman's ability? Or is it something about having a woman in power? I suppose a lack of convincing answers to these questions keep me from understanding the issue.
I don't want to have a discussion about feminism, but it is quite interesting to look at the ferocious energy that issues like this can gather.
Friday, February 10, 2006
Sweeping our troubles away...
It got colder and windy recently. Today at school, when we opened the windows and doors at cleaning time, the dust bunnies scurried to the far walls and fresh, chilly air swept itself up and down the hallways and through the classrooms.
Cleaning time is one of my favorite parts of the work day. Unlike the janitorial system we have in many schools in the West, whereby one person or a team of people get paid to keep the school tidied, the school's students and teachers here have a designated 'cleaning time.' Each school has their own system: some clean after lunch and some clean before school, but all of the schools I've worked for have had cleaning time.
At the school I work for, we clean after the last class period of the day. Typical responsibilities taken on by both teachers and students include: sweeping the floors, wiping them down with wet rags, wiping the blackboards, vacuuming rugs, clapping erasers, and so on. A particular cleaning method used at this school, which is quite unique, uses tea leaves as a freshener. A student or teacher tosses chopped, wet leaves on the floor in the teacher's room. The leaves are spread with brooms, and the smell of green tea fills the room. Then, the leaves are carefully swept back up and discarded. I used to think the method was crazy; now I just think it is nice. I usually sweep one of the classrooms up on the third floor with the freshman students. When I come back to the teacher's room, it smells fresh and clean.
Sometimes, I would be surprised to see even the vice-principal or principal wiping down the floors, but everyone participates equally, even the head faculty. Hard to imagine such a scene at my old high school!!
Cleaning time is one of my favorite parts of the work day. Unlike the janitorial system we have in many schools in the West, whereby one person or a team of people get paid to keep the school tidied, the school's students and teachers here have a designated 'cleaning time.' Each school has their own system: some clean after lunch and some clean before school, but all of the schools I've worked for have had cleaning time.
At the school I work for, we clean after the last class period of the day. Typical responsibilities taken on by both teachers and students include: sweeping the floors, wiping them down with wet rags, wiping the blackboards, vacuuming rugs, clapping erasers, and so on. A particular cleaning method used at this school, which is quite unique, uses tea leaves as a freshener. A student or teacher tosses chopped, wet leaves on the floor in the teacher's room. The leaves are spread with brooms, and the smell of green tea fills the room. Then, the leaves are carefully swept back up and discarded. I used to think the method was crazy; now I just think it is nice. I usually sweep one of the classrooms up on the third floor with the freshman students. When I come back to the teacher's room, it smells fresh and clean.
Sometimes, I would be surprised to see even the vice-principal or principal wiping down the floors, but everyone participates equally, even the head faculty. Hard to imagine such a scene at my old high school!!
Thursday, February 09, 2006
Saturday, February 04, 2006
Michael Jackson can't sing
These are words you won't hear coming from my mouth, not after my own unconvincing rendition of "Billie Jean" tonight at Paradise Karaoke. It takes some true skill to perform that song, especially with all the 'woo!'s and 'A hey!'s, let me tell you.
Now, you could be wondering what on earth got me back into a karaoke room--you know, one of those private rooms where you've got complete freedom and they serve you coffee and ice cream. No, it wasn't the ice cream, but nice try. It was Etsuko.
We had a nice dinner tonight of nori-maki, sushi rolls that we made by hand. Due to the Bean-Throwing Festival tomorrow, we followed the ancient tradition of the north, made popular across Japan by Daiei Supermarket(which recently went bankrupt). We ate our nori-maki facing south-south-east, this year's 'lucky direction,' in complete silence. I AM NOT KIDDING. We made bets on how long it would take to eat them. I said 12 minutes, she said ten. Exactly ten minutes of silence later, we both finished the last bite.
At the end of the meal, Etsuko looked me directly in the eyes and said, "I have an idea." Another ten minutes later, we found ourselves walking down the silent halls of a karaoke joint which vaguely reminded me of a casino. I took comfort in the fact that I couldn't hear any music from the rooms as we passed by them one by one. The staff woman stopped at number 19. We went in, took off our shoes, and gave it a mighty go!
Can you guess which song I chose to sing first? I'll give a couple of hints: it's by The Beatles, and it's words are simple enough that I once taught it to a class of Japanese fourth graders. Also, I became familiar with it only after coming to Japan.
Now, you could be wondering what on earth got me back into a karaoke room--you know, one of those private rooms where you've got complete freedom and they serve you coffee and ice cream. No, it wasn't the ice cream, but nice try. It was Etsuko.
We had a nice dinner tonight of nori-maki, sushi rolls that we made by hand. Due to the Bean-Throwing Festival tomorrow, we followed the ancient tradition of the north, made popular across Japan by Daiei Supermarket(which recently went bankrupt). We ate our nori-maki facing south-south-east, this year's 'lucky direction,' in complete silence. I AM NOT KIDDING. We made bets on how long it would take to eat them. I said 12 minutes, she said ten. Exactly ten minutes of silence later, we both finished the last bite.
At the end of the meal, Etsuko looked me directly in the eyes and said, "I have an idea." Another ten minutes later, we found ourselves walking down the silent halls of a karaoke joint which vaguely reminded me of a casino. I took comfort in the fact that I couldn't hear any music from the rooms as we passed by them one by one. The staff woman stopped at number 19. We went in, took off our shoes, and gave it a mighty go!
Can you guess which song I chose to sing first? I'll give a couple of hints: it's by The Beatles, and it's words are simple enough that I once taught it to a class of Japanese fourth graders. Also, I became familiar with it only after coming to Japan.
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