Disclaimer

The views represented in this blog do not in any way represent the views of the KAEC, the American Fulbright foundation, or the American government, the Peace Corps, or any other such institution. The views represented in this blog, as well as the wayward ramblings and gratuitous introspection, are the authors and the author's alone.

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

tsuki no usagi: the rabbit in the moon.

It's said in Japan that there is a rabbit drawn in the craters of the moon.  He can be seen pounding mochi with a large wooden mallet.  

It's an interesting fact that we always see the same side of the moon.  This mean that each rotation of the moon elapses over the same time as each circum-ambulation (oh yes, I know there's a better word out there but...) of the earth.  Why might this be, besides the moon having some ghastly pimple on its other face which she would never want us to see?  It has to do with the lopsidedness of the mass of the moon.  The more massive side faces the earth.  The earth's gravity acts as a string holding the one side of the moon, so it's similar to the effect that if you tie a string to a ball and whir it around you will only see one side of the ball.  I guess it's a good thing that the earth is not so lopsided, because otherwise we might be stuck w/ 365x24 hour nights.  Who knows what kind of debauchery would take place during the darkness

It's also an interesting fact that mochi, Japanese cooked and pounded sticky rice, and fufu, West African pounded casava root, are made in the exact same way and taste EXACTLY THE SAME!  I came to this startling revelation when in Ghana 4 years ago (jumpin' jackrabbit it's been a minute) and I had my first exposure to fufu.  The locals expect that it will be a difficult food for foreigners to eat.  The truth is it tastes exactly like soft mochi.  They make it by removing the woody core from the cassava tuber, then pounding the pulpy starch into a goo which can be dipped in stew.  If it were up to me I'd put some nori and soy sauce on it and call it a meal...  Cassava and mochi are made in teams of two on a large mortar and pestle.  One person squats over the mortar (pop quiz: which part is the mortar and which is the pestle?  I had to google it...) and kneads the goo so that it can be evenly pounded.  The other person thrusts violently at the gooey blob with a large wooden mallet or a long straight wooden pounder/pestle.  The person kneading the goo has to keep a rhythm so that their hand does not get squished by the pestle.  For some reason it's custom to remove the hand from the mortar right as the pestle is falling towards your hand with committal speed.  

My time in Japan is coming to a close.  It's Wednesday morning, and I leave on Friday morning.  I will have trouble putting Japanese out of my mind.  Every day I am reminded of how much I have to learn.  Specifically, my vocabulary is not nearly good enough to say everything I want to.  I will try to increase it by several words each day, and for what it's worth I'll put some on this blog.  

障害者  しょうがいしゃ a (physically) disabled person
作業  さぎょう  work, manual labor
賭ける   かける to risk, to gamble
裏切る  うらぎる to betray
嘆くnageku- to lament, grieve
分割統治 ぶんかつとうち- divide and conquer
妊娠している   にんしんしている  To be pregnant (ninshin=conception)
共時性   きょうじせい  dependent co-arising


The last term, dependent co-arising (also called just dependent arising), is a Buddhist term which is resembles “synchronicity” in Jungian jargon.  It has to do with the idea that, dialectically speaking, one thing does not always cause another.  Rather than A causing B, A can arise jointly with B in an inter-dependent non-linear relationship.  In Jungian thought, this has to do with the idea that ideas can be “randomly associated” as they arise in our brain.  For example, the smell of cinnamon might conjure up a memory of my mother.  Buddhism is informed by a psycho-microcosmic view of the world in which the individual mind represents a microcosm of the universe.  

My friend recommended to me a meditation pamphlet the other day.  I thought it was very well written.  Here it is for reference:  
http://www.insightmeditationcenter.org/books-articles/the-issue-at-hand/chapter14/

It mentions the Buddha's explanation of the two arrows of suffering.  The first arrow is an arising emotion.  The second arrow is our reaction to that emotion.  The point of meditation is to learn to calmly observe the first arrow so that we can react appropriately to it, without inflicting ourselves with the second arrow.  This analogy filled my thoughts for several days.  I was constantly looking for the first arrow.  What am I feeling?  How am I reacting to it?  

I was reminded of a scene in the film “Aje Aje Bara Aje” by Im Kwon Taek (Korea's greatest director IMHO, and a Kwangju native) in which the antagonist, a young nun, argues that the nuns should engage the common people to help them gain enlightenment instead of selfishly disciplining themselves for their own enlightenment.  The Abotess, a harsh old woman, tells her that she must kill the immature Buddha inside her which makes her think she is wise.  

The point of the scene is that self-righteousness is often a product of inexperience.  I think that, in this case, self-righteousness is often the second arrow which follows the arrow of anger or fear.  It reminded me of my encounter with Mestre Moraes, in which I told him that I think capoeiristas should be free to play their own game in the roda.  It was a strange conversation.  I felt that I was sitting in the audience watching the words come out of my mouth, as if I was compelled by some spirit to challenge Moraes in front of the group.  He responded by agreeing with me, and answering my question at length in front of a captive audience of Japanese Angoleiros.  I will not post the entire discussion tonight.  In retrospect, I would not have restrained myself from asking the question.  Though it's important to be able to restrain oneself if need be.  

On that note I will restrain myself from saying more and get some sleep.  It's 2:00 AM here.  I got the news tonight that my uncle passed away in Ashikaga.  I might be making a trip to see the family before I head to Korea on Friday.  There's a Japanese custom called tsuuya (痛夜) in which the berieved stay up for 24 hours to grieve, reflect, and spend time with family.  I'm not sure whether they will do that, or whether I'll be able to partake, but we'll see how it goes.  I didn't get a chance to know him in life so I hope I will get the chance to see him off.  

2 comments:

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  2. I like your choice of vocabulary to teach us in this post.

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