Back to Miami

I returned to Fukuoka Thursday, thirteen days before the official end of the retreat. It's been a mostly rainy weekend and I've spent a good part of it writing about my experience at Shogoji. I'll be posting some of that shortly, but in the meantime I wanted to share something unrelated.

Last night I took a trip back to the place where I grew up. I saw my old street, the houses where my friends lived. Like it was 30 years ago, I left home and walked to school. I didn't need to consult a map. The memory of the streets and the directions were still there in my flesh and bones.

And it wasn't a dream. You can do the same with Google Maps.

After you have Google opened in your web browser, type in your former address, hit return, then at top-left click Maps. You should then see a satellite photo of the surrounding area, with a pop-up box that includes a photo. Click on Street View and the pop-up reconfigures to a scrollable, 360 degree, photographic representation of that street. Click on the direction arrows to move north, south, east or west. You can also click-hold on the photo and by moving the mouse rotate your view.

Our house on NW 201st Street

Norwood elementary school

Our family church, what used to be Bethany Lutheran, now Grace United

I haven't been back to Miami since 1980. None of my family lives there anymore and I've lost track of friends. I sometimes wondered what the place looks like. Now I know.

Click the video below for appropriately nostalgic background music for your own search.

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What's next?

Now that my pilgrimage is complete, a few people have asked what I'll be doing next. You might not be terribly surprised that it doesn't involve English teaching.

Beginning May 31^st I'll be joining a meditation retreat at Shogoji temple in Kumamoto prefecture, right here on the island of Kyushu. The retreat is an annual event for overseas Zen students to practice in an authentic Japanese monastic setting. To learn most of what I know, you can have a look at the temple's English language web site here: http://www.shogoji.com.

Photo from Kumamoto prefecture website

I first learned about this retreat from one of the artists at our CD shop, Australian jazz pianist Tom Vincent, who visited with us for a day in Fukuoka on his way to Shogoji two years ago. While in Nepal I applied for a position, but as one of the requirements is a recommendation from a Zen teacher, and I don't have one, I wasn't really expecting a positive reply. I now count myself fortunate.

There appears to be little about the temple on the internet, in either Japanese or English. Two that I have found are here and here. The only other person I know of who will be in attendance is an American Zen priest, who appears to be acting as the guide for the foreign participants.

I won't be able to tell you much about my experience until after it's over. The temple apparently has limited electricity from solar collectors, so except for emergency phone calls, I'll be out of contact until mid-July.

It will be a bit of a change, from walking everyday to sitting everyday, but I'm looking forward to it, especially more hours of daily meditation and quiet mindfulness.

Enjoy the next few weeks. Remember me if you can. I'll be back here again in July.

_/|\_

gassho

Shogoji 2008 International Ango: Pt 1

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Buddhist Superhero

(Clicking on the pictures below should open larger versions.)

In the tradition of American comic superheros, the spoken word has had little power. Incantations, spells, charms – these were the tools of heroes of an earlier age. The modern hero's abilities are the frequent result of contact with nature unleashed: radiation exposure (Spiderman, Fantastic Four), toxic chemical spills (Daredevil) and genetic mutation (X-Men). A few have their powers conferred from aliens (Green Lantern), while a smaller number are themselves aliens living amongst us (Superman).

But there were at least two superheros who derived their power from magic words, both first published in the year 1940. One went on to fame, the other obscurity.

The best selling American comic book of the early 1940's followed the adventures of boy radio reporter Billy Batson, who transformed himself into Captain Marvel by shouting “Shazam!” The magic word was a neologism, an acronym of the ancient heroes from whom Captain Marvel derives his powers: Solomon, Hercules, Atlas, Zeus, Achilles, and Mercury.

The other character whose superhuman abilities issued from the spoken word had a much shorter publishing history. By the 1950's he was already forgotten. But he had a most unusual mantra, a real one (if you believe in such things) dating back to the 5^th or 6^th century, one that is still used today by millions of people to summon the compassion of the celestial deity Chenrezig. An incarnation of this god is believed to be with us still today. His name – the Dalai Lama.

Long before Americans ever heard of the Dalai Lama, though, they may have heard of the Green Lama, the superhero alias of Jethro Dumont, a wealthy New York socialite who for 10 years studied in Tibet and through the recitation of the sacred mantra, Om Mane Padme Hum, transforms himself into a caped and hooded superhero.

You won't be surprised to find the stories of the Green Lama bereft of Buddhist philosophy or ethics. Few Americans in the 1940's knew anything about Buddhism or Tibet. What you'll find instead are folk bromides masquerading as Asian wisdom. “It is said good luck walks beside good people,” Dumont remarks to his Tibetan sidekick, Tulku, while viewing the fishermen of a bucolic New England village. A rapacious lender holds the mortgages on the village's fishing boats and hopes by preventing the fishermen from doing their jobs to foreclose the following day. Dumont observes under a sky of dark clouds that “Evil sails on speedy wings” before changing into the Green Lama to drive a massive school of fish into the nets of the waiting fishermen. There is no hint of misgiving about herding so many sentient beings to death. Especially not if it means a Merry Christmas for the villagers. For the Green Lama, it's results that matter. Even it it means a few bombs over Japan.

Should you care to sample the Green Lama yourself, you can download four mid-1940's issues from the public domain archival site Golden Age Comics. If you prefer paper to digital, then you might like to pick up the recently issued first volume of a planned two volume set of reprints from Dark Horse Comics.

Om Mane Padme Hum!

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Results

It seems I passed my first year art school exams.

Results were supposed to have been posted 19 March, after I had already returned to Japan, but I never heard from anyone. I even emailed the school office address to ask (though to be fair they were having some computer problems before I left and perhaps never recovered).

I know everyone was probably eager to leave on vacation once results were published and perhaps I was forgotten in the excitement.

Today, though, we got a message from Tsering, one of my classmates, who wrote:

"I passed in class also Jeff , he is better then me I think. He is 5th position or 4 th position, something like that."

While she may have remembered incorrectly about my rank, that I passed I feel pretty certain is an accurate recollection. And it couldn't have come at a better time. I'm off tomorrow on a new adventure. Have a peek at my companion blog for more: http://fullhenro.blogspot.com

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Sakura second helpings

Mutsumi and I had lunch in the park this afternoon, what we refer to as hanami, or flower viewing. There were a surprising number of people in the park for a weekday.

The forecast calls for rain this weekend, which means most of the blooms will likely be gone by next week.

Sayonara, sakura.

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Sakura season

I've been back in Fukuoka for two weeks and it seems almost like I never left.

Besides going through accumulated stacks and folders of mail and sorting out insurance (both domestic and travel), I've done a recording for a television commercial, a small bit of jingles recording for LoveFM, rewritten a research paper for a Japanese academic, and transcribed some Betty Boop cartoons for an language materials publisher who seems to think there may be a market for early 20th century black-and-white animation.

I've also been planning a pilgrimage, about which I'll write more later. In preparation for long days of walking, I've taken to getting around on foot as much as possible. This morning I went out for a two hour walk around the city that turned into a three hour outing after stopping to shoot a number of cherry trees that have begun blooming. Most of these were taken in nearby Maizuru Koen.






For those that might be interested, you can keep updated on the cherry front here. While you may not be able to read Japanese, you can probably figure out what you're looking at because it uses a familiar format, the weather map. But instead of showing an approaching typhoon, it depicts the blossoming of cherry trees across the archipelago, moving in a roughly northeasterly direction from the southern most prefectures. The clickable map will take you to any place in Japan and give you detailed information on the state of the blossoms in your neighborhood.


Directly above is the latest prediction (from March 25th) on approximate dates for the cherry trees to begin blossoming across the country. The numbers are month.date.

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Perfect Spinoza

While laying in hospital, I finished Re-enchanment, a highly readable review of the key players and issues in Tibetan Buddhism as it was introduced to North America beginning in the late 1960’s and early 1970’s. Author Jeffrey Paine’s comparison of Buddhism and cinema is especially interesting (both ignore the metaphysical and require the individual to build meaning out of sensation and movement), but it was a small remark about Spinoza that captured my attention.

Paine notes that the 17th century Dutch philosopher found perfection in reality, a conclusion I reached myself in my musings below. A little research reveals that Mr Spinoza was quite a forward thinker and makes me wonder why I never learned much about him or his ideas in my university philosophy classes.

For an intelligent discussion of Spinoza’s work, have a listen here. (You’ll need RealPalyer to listen.)

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Rewind to Fukuoka

Coming back to Fukuoka feels a bit like watching a favorite movie. You know the places, the faces, the names, the music. You know how the story plays out. There’s no suspense only a comfortable memory that slips on as easily as an a faded shirt or scuffed pair of shoes you can’t manage to throw out.

Fukuoka feels dangerously relaxing, a place where I could easily slip into old routines – whole days spent feeding myself stimulants - new movies, television shows, music, books, games - then trying to make up for “lost” time by spending equally long hours working.

I arrived here Sunday morning, having slept - thanks to lack of proper rest in Bangkok and the timely consumption of medication just after boarding – through the entire overnight flight. Day 4 was no better. (For more on 1-3, see Bangkok Malfunction below.) I woke again to diarrhea and spent the day in hospital being rehydrated and pumped full of antibiotics – and at some rather outrageous rates. The admitting doctor refused to treat me until I signed myself in, committing myself to paying for a bed, a room, meals, a nurse, etc, etc. For 5 hours in the building, an IV, some antibiotics, and an inappropriate meal of fried fish (which I left on the tray), my insurance company will be billed approximately US$220.00. I discovered during check-out that the hospital administrator is an American. He seems to be doing a good job teaching the Thais how to bilk their customers – er, bill their patients.

Tomorrow I have my first bit of paying work since last summer, a television commercial for Walker Hill Casino, the third such commercial I’ve done in as many years. If you’re visiting Korea, listen for my voice.

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Bangkok Malfunction

My watch stopped working again. And so, it seems, has my body.

I arrived in Bangkok as scheduled without difficulties until I got to my hotel. It took them a while to find my reservation, after insisting they didn't have it and after my insisting that I'd already made online payment.

Krit was waiting for me to call about dinner and I also wanted to call Mutsumi. So I decided to go out to nearby Khao San Road to get a phone card, make some calls, and welcome myself to Bangkok.

By the time I got back to the hotel less than an hour later I was hyper-stimulated by the traffic, the noise, the lights, the people, the smells. Kathmandu is such a quiet place by comparison. Mutsumi said I sounded like the country bumpkin overwhelmed by the big city. And that is exactly what I was. (Interestingly, Krit and Knot, who grew up here, claimed to have had similar reactions when they returned to Bangkok six weeks ago after a couple of years living in Savannah and the Atlanta suburbs.)

I slept little that night and decided that since my first day in country was already a write off, I might as well spend it shopping, which I dislike in any case and which wouldn't ruin an otherwise fine day. I called a tailor advertised in the in-flight magazine to come and pick me up for measurements. I waited 90 minutes and then decided to go to the malls. I must have visited at least a dozen shoe shops only to find only a few selections in my size, none in styles to my liking. So, Day 1 was no sleep, no suit, no shoes.

Got back to the hotel, took a dip in the pool, ate a plate of fried veggies and rice, and went to bed. I slept fitfully, but I slept. Woke up around 04:00 with diarrhea, which a dose of loperamide seems to have cured. After breakfast I went to a bookstore I had read about on the internet that specializes in Buddhist books, but the selection was anemic. On the way back to the hotel I checked out Khao San Road for shoes. One of the girls at the front desk noted that there are some shops there selling brand knock-offs, mostly for foreigners. Which I found. I didn't, though, find any shoes my size. Went back to the hotel, napped, read, and waited for Krit, Knot and Peung to show up for dinner. They took me to a little hole-in-the-wall family run restaurant that served up some tasty Thai home cooking. So, Day 2 was a little better. I met old friends and had a nice meal. But no books, no shoes, and no clear head.

Day 3, today, started again at 04:00, again with diarrhea, but this time more severe than Day 2's. Loperamide didn't seem to help, so around 09:00 I was off in search of pharmacy and some antibiotics, which seem to have conquered the runs for now. It's now nearly 18:00 and I haven't had to make a dash for the bathroom since this morning, most of which I slept off after getting back from the pharmacy. In the afternoon I went to another bookstore recommended on the internet and was again under whelmed by the tiny collection.

And now here I am at a large, brightly lit, western-style shopping mall sipping a frozen blueberry/yogurt concoction and detailing what has to be the most disappointing visit to Bangkok, or any other destination, that I've had the misfortunate to experience.

I was looking forward to stopping here to enjoy the heat, which has done nothing but make more miserable my sleep-deprived, diarrheal body; I was planning to pick up a suit and shoes, but all I’ve gotten in my shopping are some antibiotics; I chose my hotel based on its having a pool, which I haven't been able to enjoy; and my hope to indulge in the local cuisine has been confined to the hotel breakfast buffet.

I've got one day left. My fervent prayer is for a good night's sleep, no more diarrhea, and a decent meal before I board my plane Saturday night. I guess there’s hardly any need to say that I hope you're doing better.

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Tibetan Independence Day

The Tibetans began gathering at the monastery at around 08:00 this morning. Following prayers and a few speeches, the crowd made it's way around the stupa and then attempted to move out onto the main street. The police tried to prevent them but were overpowered. After we got into the street the police tried forming a running blockade that was breached three times. By the fourth attempt they had reinforcements that charged the demonstrators. Details and photos are in the following links.

I was standing with the Tibetans, including several of my classmates, when the police charged. And suddenly I found myself behind police lines with rocks and bricks raining down around me. I was standing under a bus stop shelter and didn't get hit - by rocks or the police.

Here in Nepal we have demonstrations that shut down highways and cut off the supply of petrol and the police do nothing. But if Tibetans want to march peacefully to the Chinese embassy, the government sends in the troops to baton women and monks.

What a way to end this visit to Nepal.

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Nepalnesw.com: Tibetans clash with police; scores arrested

BBC: Nepal police break up Tibet protest

Rompres Photos

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