More reading

In these dark days, it is always good to have a few books to curl up with to take us away.   Here are two more books that I have added to my bookshelf:

Japan and the Culture of the Four Seasons, Nature, Literature and the Arts, by Haruo Shirane. ISBN: 978-0-231-15281-5
I heard a lecture by Professor Shirane at the Portland Japanese Garden this fall.  Here is the publisher's description:

Elegant representations of nature and the four seasons populate a wide range of Japanese genres and media—from poetry and screen painting to tea ceremonies, flower arrangements, and annual observances. In Japan and the Culture of the Four Seasons, Haruo Shirane shows how, when, and why this practice developed and explicates the richly encoded social, religious, and political meanings of this imagery.

Refuting the belief that this tradition reflects Japan’s agrarian origins and supposedly mild climate, Shirane traces the establishment of seasonal topics to the poetry composed by the urban nobility in the eighth century. After becoming highly codified and influencing visual arts in the tenth and eleventh centuries, the seasonal topics and their cultural associations evolved and spread to other genres, eventually settling in the popular culture of the early modern period. Contrasted with the elegant images of nature derived from court poetry was the agrarian view of nature based on rural life. The two landscapes began to intersect in the medieval period, creating a complex, layered web of competing associations. Shirane discusses a wide array of representations of nature and the four seasons in many genres, originating in both the urban and rural perspective: textual (poetry, chronicles, tales), cultivated (gardens, flower arrangement), material (kimonos, screens), performative (noh, festivals), and gastronomic (tea ceremony, food rituals). He reveals how this kind of “secondary nature,” which flourished in Japan's urban architecture and gardens, fostered and idealized a sense of harmony with the natural world just at the moment it was disappearing.

Illuminating the deeper meaning behind Japanese aesthetics and artifacts, Shirane clarifies the use of natural images and seasonal topics and the changes in their cultural associations and function across history, genre, and community over more than a millennium. In this fascinating book, the four seasons are revealed to be as much a cultural construction as a reflection of the physical world.

The other book I am reading is Elements of Japanese Design, by Boye Lafayette De Mente. ISBN:9780804837491

Here is the publisher's description:

 Elements of Japanese Design introduces 80 key concepts in Japanese design in a readable and accessible short-entry format. Including a brief explanation and examples of every aspect of Japanese design-from Wah (Harmony) to Kaizen (Continuous Improvement), from Mushin (the Empty Mind) to Mujo (Incompleteness).

My review:  This is an excellent little book that talks about hard to explain aesthetic concepts.  They all apply to the study of Chado.  What is particularly nice is that each chapter (concept) begins with the kanji, the romanji, and phonetic pronunciation, and then a short description to help you remember the concept.  The further description helps to put these concepts into a western context to help us better understand it.  Easy to read and understand English language helps to bridge the gap in those unexplainable concepts like wabi, sabi, and shibui.

One Taste of Truth

I am not a student of Zen, but I am a student of tea, so anything in English that helps me understand the relationship of Zen to tea captures my interest.   One of the overt examples of Zen in the tea room is the scroll displayed in the tokonoma.  It is often a Zen saying. Although it may seem on the surface to be a simple statement "nichi, nichi kore kojitsu"  everyday is a good day, or everyday is a day to be liked,  it can have deeper and more profound meanings.

I recently came across the book, "The One Taste of  Truth, Zen and the Art of Drinking Tea," by William Scott Wilson.
ISBN: 978-1-61180-026-5 paperback.

Here is the publisher's description:  Traditionally in China and Japan, drinking a cup of tea was an opportunity for contemplation, meditation, and an elevation of mind and spirit. Here, renowned translator William Scott Wilson distills what is singular and precious about this traditional tea culture, and he explores the fascinating connection between Zen and tea drinking. He unpacks the most common phrases from Zen and Chinese philosophy—usually found in Asia printed on hanging scrolls in tea rooms, restaurant alcoves, family rooms, and martial arts dojos—that have traditionally served as points of contemplation to encourage the appropriate atmosphere for drinking tea or silent meditation.

Part history, part philosophy, part inspirational guide, The One Taste of Truth will connect you to the distinctive pleasure of sipping tea and allowing it to transport your mind and thoughts. This beautifully written book will appeal to tea lovers and anyone interested in tea culture, Chinese philosophy, and Zen. 

What I especially appreciate about this book is that is shows the phrase in calligraphy so we may begin to learn to recognize it. The book also shows the romanji, so we know how to pronounce it, and the English translation.  The explanation that follows for each phrase is easy to follow, and contains more gems for those of us looking for gomei from these phrases.  Historical and cultural context are also covered.   An overall good addition to your Chado library.

Gomei discussion

I have been having an extended discussion with a commenter about gomei.  See this post and the comment thread.

For the guests, learning the gomei is of particular interest and in our discussion the commenter said,

"It sounds like the choice of a seasonal name is, at least partly, also the gift of reminding the guests of a shared cultural experience. . . . Perhaps the best gomei is not only one that is seasonally approprite [sic], but also unites the host and guests in the warm feelings of a shared remembrance."

This is a nice way of putting it and I really want to make the point that the gomei while seasonal are also allusional, that is they evoke feelings or remind people, of the seasonal moment.  The gomei themselves are a shortcut to those feelings and shared experiences.

So if you are going to use a local seasonal gomei,  make sure that everyone in the room can relate to what you are talking about and that the gomei can evoke some shared cultural or seasonal experience.  The kigo, or words that evoke the season in Japanese culture are a great reference for seasonal gomei.  You might try this link,  HAIKU KIGO Poetic Seasonal Expressions.

Another part of the discussion was about zen gomei for koicha.  I am not a Zen practioner, and I have not studied the Zen sayings, so it is difficult to come up with good koicha gomei. I tell my students to think of the tea scroll that they know.

Wa kei sei jaku - or a combination of wakei (harmony and respect)
Nichi, nichi kore ko jitsu
Ichigo, ichie
Matsu kaze
Buji kore kinin

Are some scrolls you know, so take a phrase from them.  Also: 

"It pays to pay attention. When someone else offers a Zen gomei, or your teacher suggests one, write it down with notes on meaning(s) or if it was from a Zen phrase or poem. Whenever you go to chakai and they give a name, write it down. I keep a notebook of good gomei both seasonal and Zen. If you are ambitious, you might try to research them from famous utensils . I found Haku gyoku "White jewel" from a famous (meibutsu) bunrin chaire with a drip of glaze, in an exhibition catalog."

Do you have other suggestions?   Please let's continue the discussion in the comments.

Cicada's Cry

We have been talking about poetic names and the sounds of the Japanese summer.  The Japanese cicada or semi are a ubiquitous part of the soundscape in summer.  Different species, I guess hatch at different times so there are different songs throughout the summer. 

I remember trying to fall asleep in Kyoto and the semi being so loud that one night I opened my window and shouted "SHUT UP" at the semi and it got quiet for about ten or 15 seconds, then quietly, "meep, meep, meep, Meep,.Meep, MEEP, MEEP" louder and louder again.




There are some that sound like rain showers:  Semi shigure





But sometimes they just sing in the evening with an evocative song:



And this one sounds very sad or plaintive

The summer cuckoo

 natsu no yo no
fusu ka to sureba
hototoguisu
naku hitokoe ni
akuru shinonome

On a summer night,
no sooner have I lain down
than the first faint light
of dawn appears -- heralded
by a cuckoo's single song

ほととぎす

The hototogisu is a kind of Japanese cuckoo (Cuculus poliocephalus). The song of the hototogisu traditionally signaled the arrival of summer. In other tales, the mournful cry of a hototogisu in a lonely wood was associated with the longing of the spirits of the dead to return to their loved ones still living. The hototogisu has long been a popular subject in Japanese literature and poetry, making appearances in both The Tale of Genji and The Pillow Book, and practically comprising an entire genre of hototogisu haiku. It is a convenient word in that it contians 5 syllables and when you add yama(mountain)  it comprises 7 syllables. 

When the poet Masaoka Shiki was 16, he went to Tokyo to study literature at the best university in the country. He was admitted in 1890, but suddenly became ill at the age of 23. He was diagnosed with lung disease. That night he wrote the following haiku:

It seems to me as if
A little cuckoo could have come flying
To aim at deutzia flowers

The hototogisu was said to spit blood when chirping - a synonym of tuberculosis. Since his diagnosis, he used his pen name, Shiki. Shiki is another name for hototogisu, meaning "little cuckoo". He founded the literary magazine Hototogisu and patron to a number of young poets, Shiki played a leading role in the revival of the traditional waka and haiku forms. He advocated a realistic, descriptive poetic style, which he regarded as the original spirit of Japanese verse, and his poetic treatises greatly influenced the Japanese literary world in its quest to define modern Japanese modes of expression.

There are no less than nine ways to write "hototogisu" using Japanese kanji, only some of which have meanings that actually reflect the bird they name:

杜鵑, "woods cuckoo"
子規, "egg measuring" (may suggest the bird's practice of laying eggs in the nest of other birds)
時鳥, "bird of time"
不如帰, "homelessness"
蜀魂, "spirit of Szechuan"
霍公鳥, "speedy cuckoo bird"
田鵑, "rice field cuckoo"
沓手鳥, "shoe hand bird"
杜宇, "woods' roof"

 There is also a flower that can be used for chabana called hototoguisu, supposedly named because the speckled petals are reminiscent of the breast of the bird.

That lingering feeling

It is that time of year again, when the days are getting shorter and you feel the chill in the morning. I just heard the first flock of geese honking and flying overhead yesterday.   For some people it is a rather sad time of year because summer has ended, but for some people, it is the best time of year.  Crisp fall days, abundant harvest, and the coming winter to look forward to are all part of the changing season.

In chanoyu, October is a transitional month from furo to ro season.  It is when the tea leaf jar from last year is getting down to the bottom and all that are left are broken leaves.  The furo moves closer to the guests to the center of the tatami mat in anticipation of the ro season.  There is a nostalgic lingering feeling of farewell.that the a Japanese call nagori.

October is also called the most wabi month and it is the time we see the cracked and broken utensils that have been lovingly repaired.  Images of frost, wind, colored leaves, chestnuts, autumn grasses, wild mushrooms and mountain paths are good seasonal themes to use for gomei and chakai.

And one of my favorite little tidbits about this season is the Japanese folk tale kimamori or the guardian persimmon.  That is, one last fruit is left on the tree as a talisman to ensure that the harvest for next year is abundant.

Summer gomei

Summer is hot, so choosing gomei for your chashaku at class should make the guests feel cool.

Here are a few suggestions:

shimizu-- pure flowing water
koke shimizu - moss by the stream
natsugasumi - summer mist
kunpu - fragrant breeze
shigure -sudden shower
himuro - ice store room
suzu kaze - cool breeze
sei ryu - pure flow
haku un - white clouds
taki -waterfall
sei fu- pure breeze
ko un -floating clouds
niji -rainbow
ukiha - floating lotus leaves
yugao - moon flower or white gourd flower
hotaru - firefly
tombo - dtragonfly
kawa semi - kingfisher
semi shigure - cicada whose call sounds like falling rain

Please add your suggestions in the comments.  I'll be returning from Hawaii and live blog posts on the 24th.

Issoan summer intensive starts Monday July 26.  Contact me for details.

Thoughts on gomei, or poetic names

Students who practice Chanoyu are asked by their teachers to think of gomei or poetic names for tea utensils. Many students think it is a chore or silly to come up with names for your chashaku every week. But during the haiken, or the appreciation part of the ceremony, the gomei can heighten the drama, tell the story of the utensil or enhance the theme of the tea gathering.

Gomei, literally, most honoured name, are given to utensils, sweets, and other things related to Tea. Originally, names were given to various objects by great connoisseurs and Tea masters in the late Higashiyama period. Kobori Enshu gave many famous tea utensils gomei taken from poetry and literature.

Tea utensils may reflect nature by echoing particular seasons both in form and with their poetic names. In observing the seasons, there are many more than the basic 4: spring, summer, fall, and winter. For example, early spring is more like winter and late spring is more like summer. Flowers are a great indication of the season as they don't appear at once, but can evoke the time of year that they bloom. So noticing what particular flowers are in bloom are a good source of gomei. Also instead of just naming a flower, a good gomei may offer a description of the flower. For example, Kiku or chrysanthemum is a good autumn flower, but to use kiku as a gomei is a little general and not very poetic. If it is late November, the chrysanthemums are getting a little tired as their blooming season is coming to an end. So "rangiku" or ragged chrysanthemum might be a gomei for that season.

Gomei can also come from place names that evoke different feelings, seasons or memories. For example, the gomei "Tatsuta" refers to the Tatsuta river in Nara prefecture. In the fall this river fills with fallen red maple leaves and thus alludes to the momiji or red maple leaves of autmn. Likewise, Yoshino is a place where the hill sides bloom with cherry blossoms in the spring. With these place names, one can allude to the seasons without directly saying "cherry blossoms." It gives a little more sophisticaton, depth and feeling to the name.

For usucha and okashi (sweets) gomei can be very seasonal and light; sometimes they can be humorous, or emotional such as "chajo chashin" tea feeling, tea heart. When we get to koicha, however, the gomei are a little more serious. Many Zen words and phrases are used as gomei. For example, I have a scroll with a Zen phrase that says: White clouds come and go as they please. I might pair this scroll with a tea scoop name "Ao yama" or green mountain because the companion phrase to this is: Green mountain is unmovable.

Japanese literature is also a rich source of gomei. An example of this might be "Murasame" literally it means autumn rain. Murasame was also one of two sisters in the in the Noh play Matsukaze. The two main characters are the sisters Matsukaze and Murasame who once lived on the Bay of Suma in Settsu Province where they ladled brine in order to make salt. A Middle Counsellor named Yukihira dallied with them while staying at Suma for three years. Shortly after his departure, word of his death came and they died of grief. They linger on as spirits or ghosts, attached to the mortal world by their sinful emotional attachment to mortal desires. The name of the chief character, and title of the play, Matsukaze, bears a poetic double meaning. Though Matsu can mean "pine tree" (松), it can also mean "to wait" or "to pine" (待つ). Autumn Rain is strong and gentle intermittently, while the Wind in the Pines is soft and constant. Though the characters in the play actually represent the opposite traits - Matsukaze alternating between strong emotional outburts and gentle quietness while her sister remains largely in the background, and acts as a mediating influence upon Matsukaze. Many layers of meaning here: Autumn, love, tears, grief, desire, strong, gentle depending on how it is used.

So please think about your gomei for keiko next week and use your imagination and some of these suggestions. It will make your temae more interesting to both your teacher and your guests.