Voom! And the world is green again.

"There are flowers uncurling and buds on everything and the green veil has covered nearly all the gray"

- Francis Burnett, The Secret Garden

Summer days are here, or something like them. I had forgotten how close the air is, how near it clings. Spring must be a very unreserved creature, for it embraces you without even asking your permission.  And it brings with it its own peculiar kind of snow too. Pink snow. Though this is only a carpet of petals, it still makes me think of eating cake in a hot tub, and other extravagant pleasures.

I've been getting on in Daughter of the Samurai, but the chrysanthemum book has been sadly neglected.  A story of another's life is more inviting to me than the guessed at essence of a whole nation. It is more personal. Individualism, I suppose, has a great hold on me. And I think it has finally managed to plant seeds in little Estu-bo. Well, she is not so little now. The timeline is a little hard to construct, but I gather she is around fourteen

 at this point in the story. And, of course, she is engaged to a friend of her brothers. Lets forget the fact that she has never seen him; that he lives on the opposite side of the world. She was not surprised, not overly alarmed, not crushed by raging emotions. So why should we feel for her? I wonder if it doesn't stem from our own individualism. 'Cause don't we sometimes feel we were born with the reigns of life in our hands? And, though every now and then someone comes and gives them such a jerk, so that our life goes completely off course, we believe that we can chart our destiny. The American dream, you know? 

                The question is, do we really think we're competent enough to plan our lives? Estu-bo grew up knowing that she would marry and "die" to her family. She was used to the idea of it being her duty, but I wonder if she gave anymore thought to how it could be her duty than we give to how it can be our right. Insisting a thing is so does not mean one knows why that thing it is so. Of course, as Sigimoto tells us, tradition stated that there were marriage gods in charge of placing the right people together. Makes you think of Fiddler on the Roof.

"Have I got a match for you, he's handsome, he's young. All right, he's sixty-two."

             Secretly though, I rather like the idea of someone older and wiser helping young people along. And even more beautiful is the true, and oft repeated verse. Jeremiah 29:11 - "For I know the thoughts that I think towards you, saith the LORD, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end." God, infinitely wiser, and with a better knowledge of our destination, will take the reigns if we will only let Him.

Grey Monday and the Power of Will

"The lioness pushes her young over the cliff and watches it climb slowly back from the valley without one sign of pity, though her heart aches for the little creature" 

  -- Sugimoto, From Daughter of the Samurai 

                                                     

It is very grey today. Sometimes I can be delighted with whatever the day chooses to be. But then there are days when I just need to see the sun. We had delicious weather on the weekend though. And some duck sighting in the "pond." 

        I've been waiting to post on self-control since I read the first few chapters of Daughter of

 the Samurai. That was Thursday I think. I haven't read any farther in it because I don't want to get to far ahead of myself. I've picked three things to comment on today. 

The first two concern hair.  I must admit, of all my outward features, my hair takes up the most thought. It is longish, thick, and crinkly. I've never really liked it. Somedays I love it, and somedays I know that I wouldn't be happy with any other kind, but most days I ignore it. As a child I really think I despised it. When I reached chapter two of Daughter of the Samurai I had too smile. Curly hair. That was the title. Estu-bo, the 'daughter' and author of the story, has wavy hair - everyone else, straight. On the days when the hairdresser comes Estu-bo gets to go first, because her hair needs the most attention. To get her hair straight they boiled it in hot tea and pulled it tight. Ouch! But more painful was the nasty comments the poor child had to hear about her "ugly, twisty hair." I was blessed to grow up with much wiser adults, and the only person who I ever heard criticize my hair was myself.* 

             While we're on the subject of hair I must relate one of the strange accounts Estu-bo gives. She tells of a time when the women were giving some of their hair to Buddha and one girl cut so much off that she had to post pone her wedding for three years. Apparently short hair was associated with widowhood; thus, being married with short hair would be a bad omen.  

               And now I can talk a little about about will power. Estu-bo was raised in a society that put high emphasis on the spirit. There seems to be an understanding that the less material  you are stronger your spirit will be. This emphasis on self-control is illustrated in the story Estu-bo tells of the coldest, harshest day of the year. On this day, day nine out of the thirty days alloted to midwinter, all of the household was employed with their most challenging work. For Estu-bo this meant practicing her writing in a room so cold her fingers were frozen by the time she was done. Another example of the her culture's love of discipline, she once shifted position during her lessons and was sent home in disgrace. They said her mind must've been wandering. The other book I'm reading, The Chrysanthemum and the Sword, also mentioned the Japanese' mind-over-matter mentality. The chapter I read was explaining how the Japanese had viewed WWII. I wonder if this ideal of "the spirit of control" is as prevalent in Japanese society today ( I also wonder what it means to sleep in the Kinoji position). I guess I really won't know until I get there. 

* Okay, I do remember receiving one insult about my hair as a child, but it was from a strange little boy. I, even as a little girl, was more amused by it than offended. 

A Goodly Dinner

I've been thinking of that word all week: goodly. It's rather out of use now, isn't it? But there is no other word that so entirely sums up a dinner of cake. 

         I made a trip to the library on Monday. As you can see, amongst The Chrysanthemum and the Sword (a anthropologist's study of Japanese culture) and Daughter of the Samurai

 (an autobiography), is a complete collection of Agatha Christie's Miss Marple stories. A little dash of murder to lighten up the mood.  Of course, I went right off and finished Miss Marple before properly starting the other books. I'm counting it as 'cultural studies' too. Not of Japan, but of America and England. I had never read a Christie before, but I've grown up hearing about them. Miss Marple is certainly less vain than Sherlock Holmes, who is my standard for every mystery, and she solves cases with a great deal of talk about human nature. Sherlock Holmes prefers rationale deductions, rather than psychological factors. In fact, I think most of the cases he botched were foiled by a disregard to the human element. Now I wish I hadn't left his complete anthology at my parents house, I'm interested to see if this theory rings true.

T.S. Elliot; his lines from The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock are still going through my head. "the women come and go/ talking of Michelangelo." I had the undecided pleasure of listening to an old recording of that poem today, and a decidedly delightful opportunity to have it, slightly, explained. When was the last time you had a conversation with someone? The last time you discoursed with actual thought, and with an intention other than to just be heard or admired? Don't we often talk "Michelangelo?" Fashionable thoughts, recycled from previous chats, and totally irrelevant to anything in our lives........ 

Authors Note: In case you think that Miss Marple can have nothing to do with Japan - Click Here

"Never Been Unloved"

Some days are just bursting. Some days are just bursting with God's splendor. Overflowing with glory; exploding with wonder; oozing with promise.  Somedays you know that you have "never been unloved." These are Romans 5:8 days at their best. They make you want to... to... to break out, or something.  

      Friday I got a package from Japan. A sweet little packet of goodies for my trip. You can be sure I spent all of yesterday reading One Rock at a Time. 

Every book I've read about Japan is like a another piece of  a 3-D puzzle. With every piece from a different point of view. The first book I read, The Wind is Howling, was from the perspective of  a Japanese lady who, for a large portion of her life, was unsaved. One Rock at a Time is a completely opposite situation. Mr. Oxley, the human focus of the story, was an american who became a dedicated christian at age twelve. His whole life was devoted to showing others the incredible truth of God. Ayako-San spent most of her time searching for God. How strange and beautiful; God's story reaches every situation, every possibility. God is nothing if not diverse, and yet He is always the same. The story of His love never changes.

Can you tell I'm feeling a little wordy? If I had a shrink I could spare you my ramblings. Of course, I could always try practicing restraint. That will be easy, as I update you on my to do list. I need to:

• Research airplane tickets. Which requires me to:
• Figure out when I'm coming home  
  

Not that hard. But a little time consuming. I also need to mail my health waiver (I finally got a signed copy). I've been really bad about doing things promptly, but I trust the details will all come together. Church was on the last few chapters of Job today, and it's evident from them that God is into details.  

 

Fractions - to the tune of "Bad Day."

               

  Lately, and even more today, I have felt stupid. All kinds of  stupid. I have felt the dull, hot, muggy kind of stupid, which is a feeling just like hot and cold, and I have felt the dumb, moronic, unchanging stupidity, which is attributed to character.

 And then I see the pansies, growing in their plotted patches. Their colors so disperse, and their shades so subtle; a molted mix of gradations, blues, periwinkles, violets and a rich purple just coming to its own. 

Or I stumble upon a blow, and find a shield has already been thrown around me.  

I must admit that I'm feeling a little artsy today, for I spent a few hours in the library. I skimmed the chapters of  a few books, but mostly I went to read poetry. A volume of poems concerning the ocean (The Eternal Sea), and a thinner, older 'folio' of 'ballads' depicting books. Ah, love! To top of my literary mood, I picked up a fine arts collection of  local origins, and thought of how, in just three or four months, my perception of my own abilities has changed. 

Perhaps that is why I feel stupid. Change distorts the frame you had constructed for the world. It changes the value of x, if you may, and if you forget that the value has changed you end up with the wrong answer. And then sit there feeling stupid. Wondering why. 

I finally mailed out the pictures for my visa, which is both relative and good news. I hope it gets there by Thursday, but I suppose it isn't likely to. My waiver is, to the best of my knowledge, winging its way to me as I type. Once it gets here it will be promptly sent out to its final home, as it should've been three weeks ago. More things to do, and more things to have done yesterday. Life is a frontier, nee? 

Inattentive

Last week was so full of good, challenging, solid thought that every impulse of my mind was towards sharing it with you. I finished The Wind is Howling, read excerpts from Nietzsche and Marx, and flipped around in C.S. Lewis' Surprised by Joy. But, as you are all well aware, there was no fruition to all this industry. And what ever profit we can hope was attained from such employment can now find no proof and share no gain. 

Other unrealized plans have fallen victim to this peculiar idleness. Mainly the entire absence of stamps from my office. How can I mail out pictures for my visa, or my stack of prayer letters, without postage? A journey to Wal-mart on Thursday resulted in unexpected photos, but none of the small sticky squares I was after. A similar experience on Saturday, only this time a the post office, meet another dismal end. Who could have foreseen that such a necessary establishment would close on a weekday? At any rate, I should be able to mail out my Visa photos on Monday, and I shall probably attempt another search for those evasive stamps as well. Until then, to pacify my poor conscious, I am uploading a pdf of my prayer letter (which will require you to click on it in order to see it proper). 

As a parting note, and in way of explanation, I have been listening to Mansfield Park all day, and I fear that it has rather colored my speech. But I have no worry on the account, it is sure to pass in nine or ten chapters. 

Living on the Surface

I started on my homework today. My homework for Japan. I got The Wind is Howling from the library. There are so many things to say about it. Mainly that I'm very impressed. I have not thought even half so deeply on life. Reading Ayako-san's story, how she pondered so many hard questions,  I feel inadequate. Why have I never taken the time to consider so seriously the underpinnings of life?  I think it is because, even when I didn't know what it meant, I always had a 'christian' outlook*. And this outlook, while it didn't explain away everything, made it easy for me to brush away serious concerns. On the other hand, I do remember being obsessed with Ecclesiastics a few years ago.  Perhaps I managed to get the majority of my questions out while I was young, and therefore do not feel the need to think of them again as a I get older. I think I'll take this book as an opportunity to remedy that fallacy. 

  At any rate, Ayako-san's book is so interesting, and so easy to get into, I must guard against the sin of not actually reading it. Since it is a library book I can't write in the margins, as I have been learning to do in my schoolbooks, and that makes it difficult to actually respond to the ideas presented. Reading deeply, which is what I should be doing, is like a conversation. Reading with out responding, which is much easier, is like attending a lecture where you don't take notes. 

*This outlook is commonly referred to as a christian worldview. It is used with the understanding that just because we both say we are christians doesn't mean that we see the world in the same light.