A life with tea

An interesting article by Dr. Andrew Weil about the health benefits of green tea.  In part two he talks about drinking matcha in the morning.  I also drink matcha in the morning much like Dr. Weil.  I don't go through the whole ceremony, but I do warm the bowl, scoop tea and whisk it to a froth.  I always sit down to drink my matcha rather than stand in the kitchen and drink it.

When I was in Midorikai, I asked my sempai if I could make him a bowl of tea in the mizuya after class one day.  I was very casual about it and didn't do a good job whisking it.  He told me that every time I make a bowl of tea, I should whisk it as if I was making tea for the grand tea master: that I should put as much care and thought about making the tea as if I were in the tea room.  Every bowl of tea, he said, was the real tea.

So make yourself a bowl of matcha and take the time to make a real bowl of tea.

Robiraki, Opening the Winter Hearth

The new year for tea is upon us. Frost is forming and the mountain passes are filling with snow. The landscape and people are preparing for winter cold. Once again the fire moves to the sunken hearth and laying charcoal for the first time is celebrated at Robiraki. The chatsubo, the tea container that has held the tea leaves since the harvest in May, is brought out and opened in a ceremony called Kuchikiri. The sealed jar is displayed in the tea room as the guests enter. The host takes the jar from the mesh bag, allows the guests to see the seal before he/she opens the seal and takes out the tea leaves to be ground for tea that day. Then the jar is sealed up again.

There are two ways to display the chatsubo: in the mesh bag as noted above and with the three decorative knots, formal in front, semiformal to the right, and informal to the left. This is a beautiful way to display the chatsubo if you are not going to take the tea out of the jar in front of the guests.

The laying of the charcoal is always a feature of Robiraki, emphasizing the warmth of the winter hearth. Laying the sumi (charcoal) for the ro season is larger than for the furo (summer) season. It is usually laid at the beginning of the chaji (tea gathering) and all through the meal, the charcoal is heating the water in the kettle. Ro sized kettles are larger and it takes more time and charcoal to heat them up.

Another seasonal treat is the sweets for Robiraki. That is zenzai. It is kind of a sweet bean soup served hot in lacquer bowls. Sometimes there is bit of mochi or chestnuts in the soup.

Timing for Robiraki is sometimes a mystery. There are various ways to think about it: approximately 88 days from the time of the tea harvest is the time to open up the chatsubo, so timing robiraki for this allows for a kuchi kiri as well as robiraki. I think it was Rikyu who said that "when the yuzu (citron) turns yellow it is the time to open the ro.

Hisashi Yamada

Hisashi Yamada, a loving and devoted tea ceremony teacher at Urasenke Chanoyu Center of
New York, passed away on April 18, 2009 at the age of 81. He will be greatly missed by
all his family, friends and students.

Please share this information with anyone who was acquainted with Mr. Yamada.

Funeral Service: Tuesday, April 21, 2009, 2:30PM

The service will take place at Riverside Memorial Chapel
180 West 76th Street *entrance on Amsterdam Avenue- NYC 10023
http://www.riversidememorialchapel.com, tel. 212 362 6600

Opening of the Ro

Congratulations to President-elect Obama on his run for the Whitehouse.

In November, the winter time hearth is opened. The ro is a sunken hearth that is larger than the summer time brazier. A hole cut in the floor houses the hearth and the heat from the charcoal fire warms the tatami from underneath and makes the room cozy.

The event that marks this opening of the ro is called robiraki. It is one of the major tea events of the year. Rikyu said that when the yuzu (citron) turns yellow is the time to open the ro. Usually that is around the first of November. To prepare for this event, the tea room is cleaned top to bottom. Shoji are repapered, and the tatami mats are rearranged so that they can accommodate the cut out for the sunken hearth.

At this time also, the chatsubo (tea storage container) is opened where the new tea leaves have been stored to age since they were harvested in the spring. The chatsubo is contained in a net bag or elaborate knots are tied to the lugs. There is a ceremony to cut open the sealed chatsubo and take out the leaves called Kuchikiri.

The usual sweet that is served is zenzai, or sweet bean soup with a pillow of mochi. Sometimes grilled mochi is mixed in with a chestnut. The highlight of the event is the laying of the charcoal fire and partaking of koicha – thick tea shared from the same bowl by the guests.

This year I was fortunate enough to attend Robiraki in both Portland and Seattle. The season is turning round one more time and it is comforting to participate as we move into the colder, darker time of the year.

Intimate Silence

In the previous post, The host revealed, and by questions at tea demonstrations, I have been asked again and again about how much talking is allowed at a tea ceremony. While talking is not forbidden, there are appropriate subjects and times that guests and host can communicate.

In America, we are not usually comfortable with silence and talk to fill it or cover the perceived awkwardness. It seems more friendly and attentive to comment and chat about what is going on in the tea room.

If there is conversation in the tea room, most of it will take place between the shokyaku or main guest, and the host. It is the responsibility of the shokyaku to speak for the guests and to anticipate the questions the guests may have and to time the conversations so that the harmony and flow of the ceremony is enhanced and not disrupted. Other guests may address the shokyaku to ask the host questions and the shokyaku will find an appropriate time to ask the host.

It is in fact, more respectful at a tea ceremony to be silent and pay careful attention as the host goes through the procedures for making tea. Conversation, questions and chat during this time takes attention away from what the host is doing. For the host, his full attention should be on serving the guests. And for the guests, their full attention should be on receiving what the host has prepared and appreciation for everything the host has done in preparation/

Communications are subtle and nuanced in the silence and unspoken feelings can be intensified by a mere glance or gesture. In many ways, this careful attention on both sides creates an intimacy that cannot be achieved through conversation and talking.

Elusive scents, the way of Koh

I had an opportunity earlier this week to attend a lecture and demonstration on Kodo, the way of incense. Kodo is a traditional Japanese art, a ritual that is meditative in nature, but unlike chado, it is also playful. Kodo has deep roots in Japanese culture, dating back to the Heian period (794-1192). It is mentioned in the Tale of Genji and evokes images of the beauty and wonder of ancient Japan.

Mr. Kihachiro Nishura from Tokyo is a Kodo master, and he prepared for 60 people an abbreviated version of Genjiko, an incense ceremony where guests were given 3 different scents and had to distinguish if they were alike or different.

The incense used was wood incense called jinko (meaning sinking wood). It is rare and primarily found in Vietnam and Laos. How it is formed is mysterious and natural. A resinous tree is eaten by bugs and the tree exudes resin to protect itself. When the tree dies, it falls to the ground and over many years it decays and changes into jinko.

There are a few rules before starting an incense ceremony:

1. Don’t eat anything spicy or wear perfume
2. Wear clean socks
3. No accessories (rings, watches and bracelets can damage the porcelain incense burners)
4. No flowers or plants in the room
5. Don’t talk too much – the answers should come from your own perceptions

The incense burners (koro) are prepared by placing a live charcoal in a bed of ash, covering it up and pressing an intricate pattern on top with special utensils. A chimney hole is poked down through the ash to the coal so heat escapes. Over the chimney hole is placed a special mica plate surrounded by silver. The tiny, tiny bit of incense wood about the size of the letter o here is placed on the mica plate. This gentle heat releases the fragrance from the resin. The guests hold the koro in the left palm and cover the top with the right hand, leaving a small hole formed by the thumb and first finger. By putting your nose up to this hole, inhale gently and smell the fragrance. Exhale by turning to the left and down

This is often described as “Listening to the incense.” Mr. Nishiura likened the enjoyment of incense to listening to music – there are top notes and low notes and it changes over time. There is an immersion into the experience. Because our sense of smell is one of the most primitive senses, it is connected closely to our memories and smells evoke emotions and feeling connected to those memories.

So the Genjiko game we played was 3 different kinds of incense woods each packaged in 3 times in small wrappers for a total of nine packages. Of these, three are chosen at random and prepared in different koro.

Comparing these, there are five possible configurations to the set:

1. If each one of the three are different it is scored like this: | | | three vertical lines
2. If each one is the same it is scored with three vertical lines all connected at the top (sorry I can’t do it on the keyboard).
3. If the first and last are the same it is scored with three vertical lines with only the first and last connected at the top and the middle line a little shorter.
4. If the first two are alike then the first two vertical lines are connected.
5. And finally if the last two are alike then the last two vertical lines are connected.

To give more interest, kodo master can give poetic names to the combinations such as:

1. Three vertical lines (all different): Evergreen trees
2. Three vertical lines all connected (all the same): Dew on pampas grass
3. First and third connected: Snow on a lonely peak
4. First two connected: Sound of the koto
5. Last two connected: Plum blossoms form the neighbor’s house.

It was a challenge not only in distinguishing the fragrances (you only get one inhalation), but also in memory – did this one have as sharp a note as the last one, or did it gently fade away at the end?

In the game, the guests write their answers on small folded pieces of paper. The recorder collects them all, scores them and writes a record (in calligraphy) of all the participants’ scores. Many rounds are played and the one with the highest score gets to take the record home.

Knowledge of literature and poetry, calligraphy, as well as memory and discernment all play a role in the enjoyment of kodo.

If you'd like to try kodo, I have some supplies at sweetpersimmon.com

The tsukubai

"Guest and host both joined as one, share a bowl of tea. In tranquil meditation, no margin divides their hearts. The tea garden is a way apart from this bustling world and its many cares. Why not sweep away the dust from within our hearts?"

As part of the tranquility of the tea ceremony, one must leave behind the world and prepare oneself for the tea room. The host has cleaned and prepared everything, and now the guests must prepare themselves. Before entering the tea room, guests make their way through the garden and wait at the covered bench called the koshikake machiai. Sitting here in the garden, one can hear nature and begin to remove oneself from the cares of the world.

The host will signal the guests to enter the tea room by bringing a bucket of clean water and watering the plants around the tsukubai. Then she will rinse her hands and mouth at the tsukubai, and refill it with the bucket of water. After returning the bucket to the crawling in entrance (nijiriguchi), she will come to the middle gate, open it and bow silently. Then she will enter the tea room by the nijiriguchi and leave the door ajar.

One by one the guests will go to the tsukubai to rinse their hands and mouth. First squat down in front of the basin to dip a scoop full of water and rinse the left hand, then the right hand. Take another scoop and pour some water into your left hand and rinse your mouth. The scoop is tilted upright to let the water run over the handle to purify the handle for the next guest. The scoop is returned to the tsukubai and the guest wipes his hands on his own handkerchief. Thus purified, the guest may now enter the tea room.


NEW! Introduction to Japanese Tea Ceremony
Harmony, respect, purity and tranquility. These are the four principles of tea ceremony distilled from Japanese culture. In this ten week class, students will be introduced to Chado, the way of tea. The arts of Japan will be examined through the ritual preparation and drinking of matcha, Japanese ceremonial tea. An overview of Japanese aesthetics found in gardening, architecture, art and literature and how Tea Ceremony has influenced Japanese culture will be presented. Also covered are tea ceramics, calligraphy, kimono dressing, and participate in an incense ceremony. We will also learn zazen meditation and discuss how to put tea practice into every day life.

When: Thursdays 7:00-8:30 Starting September 4, for 10 weeks
Fee: $250 most materials, tea and sweets furnished. Others available for purchase at class.
Where: Classes will take place in an authentic Japanese tea room located at Ryokusuido Tea House, 3826 NE Glisan St. Portland, OR 97232.
How to register: Call Margie 503-645-7058 for registration or email margie at issoantea dot com.

Making a good bowl of matcha tea

Matcha tea is the powdered green tea used in the Japanese tea ceremony but more people are beginning to drink matcha. Starbucks has a drink called a matcha latte (sorry, I did not finish mine, it’s just not my cup of tea). You can get matcha mixed with sugar and milk and matcha ice cream is often served in Japanese restaurants, plus there are any number of matcha baked goods, candies and other food you can get now days. I even bought a pack of some matcha gum.

I made matcha for my brother-in-law and he said that it was so different when I make it for him. So I thought I would post a little bit here on how to make a good bowl of matcha.

There are different grades of matcha, so if you are making a bowl of matcha to drink, you should get matcha of good quality. Drinking grade matcha is sold in quantities of 40 grams or less (about one and a half ounces) and usually costs from $18- $50 or even more in that quantity. I recommend getting it on the internet from www.tea-circle.com, they have a good selection, or www.matchaandmore.com. (or if you’d like to support me, you can buy it from my site www.SweetPersimmon.com. I only have one kind of matcha, though).

When exposed to air, matcha goes bad quickly. So buy it fresh, and store it in the freezer until you unseal it. When it is opened, it can last for about a month if you put it in the refrigerator. When you first open a can or container of matcha it should be brilliant green and have a good fragrance. If you have a dull green and it doesn’t smell, or smells off, the tea is not good for drinking (you can still use it for cooking or ice cream, though). I usually put it through a sieve or strainer to remove the lumps.

Having a good tea bowl helps in making tea. If you don’t have a tea bowl, a ceramic bowl that is three and a half to four inches in diameter (9-10 cm) and about three inches tall can do. You will also need a bamboo whisk (they can be had from the two places above). It helps to have a bamboo tea scoop, but it isn’t essential.

Make sure you have good water. I use filtered water (don’t use bottled water) and bring it to a boil. I don’t know exactly what the temperature of the water is, but I can tell it is right by the sound of it boiling in my iron kettle. The sound is matsu kaze, (the sound of the wind in the pines). If you don’t have an iron kettle to sing to you, just before it comes to a roiling boil – when there are lots of small bubbles rising to the surface is about right. Heat the bowl by pouring hot water in it and letting it sit for about a minute. Empty the water and wipe the bowl dry.

If you have a bamboo scoop, put two scoops of the powdered tea into the bottom of the bowl. I had to go measure it, but it is between one half to a full teaspoon of matcha depending on how strong you like it. Then add water. Most people who are beginning to make tea put too much hot water in the bowl. I would say that you should pour about one quarter cup (2 oz. or 75 ml) into the bowl with tea in it. I try to pour down the side of the bowl because if you pour hot water directly on the tea powder it splashes up on the sides of the bowl and it’s hard to incorporate it and it looks messy.

Now whisk the tea to a froth. The technique I learned is to put the whisk into the tea bowl and whisk vigorously from 12 o’clock to 6 o’clock, not around in a circle. Just whisk straight across the bowl as fast as you can. You will start to get a bouncing action and the bubbles should start to come up. Use your wrist as well as your whole arm. It helps if the bowl is a lower than your elbow. (I use a low table like a coffee table if I can). You don’t need to move the whisk across the bowl, just whisk at the widest part of the bowl until the foam covers the surface. (that is why you need a big bowl for so little tea, it has to accommodate the whisking action). Bring the whisk to the top of the foam and whisk more slowly to break up the larger bubbles. If you have a good head of foam, it will form a hill as you pull the whisk out of the tea bowl. Now you can enjoy!

Matcha, tea bowls and tea sets for making matcha are now available at www.SweetPersimmon.com.

What to bring to a tea gathering

I have a class graduating from the 10 week introductory class and we are holding our final chakai (tea gathering) in a few days at Kashintei, the Japanese Garden tea house. Most people cannot believe that it takes ten weeks to learn to make tea. My students get to invite family and friends to show off what they have been studying and these guests will have a Japanese sweet and a bowl of powdered green tea (matcha) prepared and served by the students.

Most of the students want to dress in formal kimono for this special occasion so one must come dressed in kimono or bring everything needed to change into kimono for the chakai. The experienced guest will also make sure to bring their fukusa basami (tea utensil pouch) with fukusa (silk cloth), kaishi (sweets papers), sweets pick, fan, handkerchief and a packet of pocket tissues. Experienced guests always bring extras, in case someone else forgets or doesn’t have these things. Sometimes, a very conscientious guest will bring something for the host and kitchen crew as well – a light snack, a box of sweets or something small to show appreciation. And an even more conscientious guest will leave a discreet envelope with some money in it to help defray the costs of the tea gathering.

Most important of all, the guest must bring a good tea attitude to a tea gathering. While the host does his best to prepare everything for the guest, it is an experienced created by both the host and the guest. The guest role is every bit as important to a tea gathering as the host. The host’s role is to serve the guests. The guests’ role is to receive and to appreciate everything that the host has done to prepare for the gathering. A good way to show this is to ask questions or comment to the host about everything that the guest sees or experiences. How refreshing the garden looks, how beautiful the flowers are arranged. The guest can ask about the meaning of the scroll hung in the alcove, and about any of the utensils used to make tea or serve sweets. In fact, it is not unusual to ask about the names of the sweets and the tea – they often have poetic names.

After the tea gathering, it is polite not to linger too long. The host has many more duties to clean up and close the tea house before they can rest. And a well written thank you note is an essential part of being a guest.

So the next time you receive an invitation to a tea gathering you will know what to bring.

Order from chaos

When we first begin to learn chanoyu, it seems like all we can manage is to remember the order of things, and getting control of our bodies in the tea room. All of our energy is drawn inwards as we exercise the self-discipline of temae. We face the challenge of endurance as we build up our tolerance for sitting seiza for longer and longer periods of time without excruciating pain. Our focus and concentration improves and the movements become more familiar.

One day it just happens. Order comes from the chaos inside our brain. Something clicks and we are here in the tea room with a guest. Yes, we are making tea for our guest, but now there is a live person in the room with us. When this happens, the tea room changes. Our guest is breathing with us, he is participating in the ritual. Through mutual consideration, host and guest create a new experience for each other. Unspoken communication occurs and small nuances in the ritual take on new meanings. Though host and guest have their roles to play, the give and take of such an experience can be quite moving.

This, for me is the magic of chanoyu. This is why chanoyu cannot be done alone. This is why one cannot learn chanoyu from a book, or from the video “Tea mastership in a day.” Each experience of the ceremony is unique and special. All the training, all the preparation and all the years of work make it worthwhile.

Everything fresh and new

As member of the information age, it is always the next thing, then the next thing, even before we master the previous thing. By the time we know something it has passed and we are on to something different. There is very little time for reflection on what we have learned because we are always keeping up with the next new thing. But how do you make something that you have done hundreds of times fresh and new? As we begin the new year of tea classes, it may seem redundant when we do things over and over again.

In the world of chanoyu we learn things with our body. They say that in order for something to become a habit, you must do it at least 30 times. How do we know where to sit down on the tatami mat so that we are exactly 16 weaves from the line? How do we know what comes next in the tea procedure that is two hours long? By training our bodies for tea procedures, it becomes second nature to us. Training our bodies takes patience. We must do it over and over again until we can do it without thinking.

Like bicycle riding, when we train our bodies, we can finally look up and see the scenery rather than concentrate on keeping our balance. With our well trained body doing tea procedures, we can free our mind and our heart to look beyond ourselves to what is happening in the tea room. We can be sensitive to our guests and communicate on many levels at once. This is what makes everything fresh and new again even though you may have done it a hundred times before.

There is a saying in chanoyu – nichi nichi arata -- every day is new. To make each tea procedure, each movement fresh and exciting as if it was the first time you were doing it takes lots and lots of practice. What a conundrum. This attitude will make your tea study more exciting for you and ultimately more exciting for your guests.

Keiko is good training

In the course of my lessons for chado I had to drive across town after work to get to class. That meant fighting traffic for 45 minutes to an hour, struggling into kimono and sitting on my knees for an hour and a half at class every week. I did this for many years and there were days that I faced the freeway stopped up with cars and not looking forward to the pain in my legs. But as I drove home after keiko (tea practice), I was so glad that I did make it to keiko as I felt ready to face another week with more peace in my heart.

I learned that many of the unpleasant things we do often turn out better than we anticipate. By adjusting our mental outlook or the context of what we are doing, we have a shift in perspective that brings unlooked for rewards. The tedium of driving in traffic can be converted to meditation time. The pain in my legs from sitting in the tea room is my way of strengthening my endurance and concentration. As one of my sempai told me whenever I would complain about something “…hmmm, this sounds like very good training for you.”

Receiving a bowl of tea

The etiquette of receiving a bowl of tea at a tea ceremony may seem somewhat tedious as there is a lot of handling and moving the bowl around. The proper way to receive a bowl of tea is for the guest to slide across the tatami mat and get his own bowl of tea after the host puts it out; making sure the front of the teabowl is facing himself. It takes a certain amount of grace to slide backward then move the bowl with you back to your place in kimono without it opening up and become a mess. But once back in your place, the bowl is brought just inside the line and placed between you and the next guest. “Osaki ni” (excuse me for going before you) is said with a semiformal bow of both guests together. The bowl is then placed inside the line in front of your knees and a formal bow thanking the host with “Otemae chodai itashimasu.” The bowl is then placed on the left palm for kansha (silent thanks) and the bowl turned twice clockwise to the back to drink from.

When the guest has had the last sip, and it is okay to slurp the last of the tea, he wipes where he has drunk with fingers that are then wiped on kaishi papers. The bowl is turned counterclockwise to the front and put down on the tatami mat outside the line for haiken or appreciation. After looking at the bowl, the guest returns it to the host exactly where the host put it out. Before returning it to the final place, the guest turns the bowl so that it is facing the host. He then returns to his place.

This whole ritual of receiving the bowl of tea is good because we are not often taught how to receive anything. Using this etiquette we can express our respect, thanks and appreciation of not only the tea, but the bowl, the host, and the other guests.

The year for fire

Since ancient time in Japan, poetry has played a major role in cultural life and continues to be widely practiced today. One direct way that poetry influences chado is the Emperor’s annual poetic theme, called chokudai.

Poetic themes have been designated for poetry gatherings since the Heian period (794-1185). At the new year, it was the custom for poems from each province to be presented to the Emperor. The poems were thought to embody the spirit of each area and add to the Emperor’s spirit. In return, the Emperor’s spirit, embodied in his poem, was given to all the country.

Today, the Imperial Poetry Reading takes place in the Tokyo Imperial Palace in early January. Several poems are selected from the thousands submitted and are read or chanted in the traditional lyrical style before the Imperial family. Those whose poems have been selected are invited as guests and the Emperor’s poem is read last.

Last year the poetic theme was moon. The chokudai for 2008 is hi or fire. Why not compose a poem on new year’s day to commemorate the year? Everyone remembers writing haiku in grade school. Try to write a short fire poem with 5-7-5 syllables per line. Or try writing a poem in the classical waka style with 5-7-5-7-7 syllables per line.

Besides poems with the theme, every year craftsmen who make tea utensils use the chokudai to commemorate the year. I wonder what the new year will bring with the theme of fire? Will it mean that people will get fired up? I have a feeling that 2008 will be a very exciting and passionate one. For me, I hope so.

The return to the light

I have been looking forward to the solstice this year, and looking back on my writing, it seems to be preoccupied with light and sun lately. It must have something to do with getting up and going to work in the dark, and coming home in the dark. With overcast skies and fog all day or drenching rain in the last week , even during the daylight hours, it seems more like twilight. When I was out walking at lunch time, I saw a patch of blue sky yesterday. But you had to be looking in the right place, and it was just for a few seconds before the grey clouds covered it up again. I tell you, I have treasured that little patch of blue. I keep remembering it, where I was standing when I saw it and grateful for that little bit of hope. No wonder pagan societies all over the world throughout history celebrated the winter solstice, calculated it, marked it, waited for it. It is the turn of the world back to the light. The natural rhythms of the seasons coming around again. So in the deep, dark days of winter, we make the turn once again to light and hope. The pendulum will swing again in the other direction and in six months we will once again be sitting in the sun.

Bless you all this holiday season.

Bonenkai and preparing for the New Year

The end of the year is fast approaching. The Japanese have a tradition of preparing for the new year by cleaning and settling up so that one can begin the new year with a clean slate.

One such tradition is Bonenkai ("forget the past year" parties). The idea behind Bonenkai is to hold a party where lots of food and plenty of alcohol are served, to help wash away all the unpleasantness of the past year, review accomplishments and begin the new year with a clean slate. Bonenkai are a must for every work group. There may be parties for one department, the whole company, clients, etc. Options for these parties range from snack food and drinks to lavish social gatherings on a cruise ship sailing around the Sumida River in Tokyo complete with live music and dancing. There may be parties for other groups as well, such as judo or chess clubs or former classmates.

Another tradition is O-soji (big cleaning). According to ancient belief, Toshigami (God of the Year) visits every home at New Year's, so many preparations are devoted to being ready to receive him. These preparations include paying off debts, saying you’re sorry to mend relationships, and thoroughly cleaning the house, office, or classroom. Floors and walls are scrubbed, rooms and desks are tidied, and borrowed items are returned. School children always clean their school, but for o-soji they make a game of running across the floors pushing damp towels with their hands.

By mid-December people are busy addressing nengajo (New Year's postcards) to send to business associates and clients as well as friends and family. They are available in a great variety of styles, like American Christmas cards. Creative or ambitious people make their own. All postcards dropped off at the Post Office by a specified date are delivered on New Year's morning by an army of temporary workers hired for this one special day. It takes an army: four billion nengajo are sent annually. To add to the excitement, the Post Office prints cards with lottery numbers on one side and a blank side to be decorated by the sender. A lottery drawing is televised in mid-January, with thousands of prizes awarded.

Most stores close for several days at New Year's, so in the days before refrigeration a variety of preserved foods became part of traditional New Year's meals. The most important of these is mochi, or pounded glutinous rice. Mochi will keep for several days and is also tasty grilled. These days it is possible to buy mochi at the grocery store or to make it with an electric pounding appliance, but the very best mochi is made the old-fashioned way: hot steamy rice is put in a heavy wooden or granite usu (mortar) and pounded with a large wooden kine (pestle or mallet). Rice has been the most important crop in Japan for centuries, the key to prosperity and a full belly, and pounding rice brings out its sacred essence. The final result is a soft, smooth, and chewy dough-like glob that is pinched into small balls. It may be filled with sweet bean paste, dropped like dumplings into soup, or used in a hundred other ways (depending on the region). Mochituski (mochi pounding) is a family or community event, with people taking turns at pounding, while another person with courage and care reaches into the bowl between hits to turn the rice.

The final act of wiping the slate clean is played out at Buddhist temples all over the country, starting before midnight on December 31. In a ceremony called Joya no Kane, temple bells are rung one hundred and eight times to welcome the new year and obliterate the sins or troublesome desires of the past year. One explanation of this precise number is that, according to Buddhist teaching, there are six senses: sight, smell, taste, touch, hearing, and cognition; these have three natures: good, bad, and neutral. Each of these 18 attributes has both positive and negative aspects that can exist in the past, present, or future. Thus you have 6 × 3 × 2 × 3 or 108 reasons to toll the bell. People visit the temple grounds before midnight to watch and listen, or maybe be invited to climb a ladder to take a turn striking the huge iron bell. Those who prefer a televised ceremony from the warmth of their home can watch a team of thirty monks toll the seventy-four-ton bell at the Chion-in Temple in Kyoto. At some temples, people go to get a piece of string to be lit at the temple fires to take home and light the home fires for New Year’s day. The string must be twirled all the way home to keep it lit.