a Japanese friend translates a poem

We met in Bhaktapur, Nepal three hundred years ago.

He has a famous beard, laughs a lot and writes haiku.

His wife is known for her oils and watercolor paintings with a touch of fantastic harmony and mystery.

Every morning we sat near a Hindu temple when a man rang a huge iron bell at 7:30. Exactly.

Ame ni mo  Makezu (Be not Defeated by the Rain)

standing against the rain,

standing against the wind,

standing against the snow,

the intense heat of summer

keeping a strong body

free from desire

free from anger

regardless, smiling peacefully

four bowls of brown rice

miso, a few vegetables, enough for a day

putting myself aside in everything

taking care of others first

watching, listening carefully to the inner meaning,

appreciating

never forgetting

beside the pine forest in the field

sitting in a little thatched roof house

hearing news about a sick child in the east

I go and nurse him

hearing news about a tired mother in the west

I go and help her, rice bundles on my back

hearing news about a man on his death bed in the south

I go and comfort him

hearing news about a quarrel or lawsuit in the north

I go and tell them not to be so petty

weeping with them in a drought

aimlessly wandering around with them in the cold summer

being called useless by others

never being praised

never receiving complaints

such a person

I want to be Ame ni mo makezu (Be not Defeated by the Rain[1]) is a famous poem written by Kenji Miyazawa,[2] a poet from the northern prefectureof Iwate in Japan who lived from 1896 to 1933. The poem was found posthumously in a small black notebook in one of the poet's trunks.

tomita park, asahikawa

enter 
face 
stone basin water temple
clap hands three times

throw water
on grey stone guardian lions

red, orange, yellow leaves
fall 

into sky mirror reflections
escaping fresh snow dust 

old people shuffle along earth path
wearing intricate kimonos

designed by
stone 

Asahikawa loom creators 
weave wool season colors
into old mountain fabrics 

protecting brown bear families 
preparing their winter solitude

bow low 
o mountains
o west wind
o glorious lions 
at the entrance 

 

Hokkaido Fabric

Perfect for each other with no emotional attachment, they jumped in a taxi to Hirosake castle gardens, filled with wide paths, cultivated plants, flowers, 300-year old trees, lotus blossoms in ponds and miles of lilies. 

After crossing wide timber bridges, they passed through large wooden fortress doors into gardens. Ponds near bridges were filled with wild white swans gliding along green banks. A castle sat high above large walls of measured stone blocks with a tiered roof and metal ornamentation.

They walked down a long street to a wooden temple with fresh mythological symbols on archways and roofs. The temple interior contained ornate carvings with sand raked Zen universes. Brown robed monks sat in meditation.

Away from the temple, distant valley mountain peaks were covered in snow. High white gray clouds covered and protected peaks from sky. Fields of rainwater lay in small furrows of well- manicured attendance. Tight blue bundles of feed, grain and potatoes rested as a solemn oath to diligent pastoral life in the mud and meadows of reality.

“Come, I show you fabrics,” Akiko said, grabbing his hand.

The Yukara Ori Museum specialized in hand loom woolen fabrics of Hokkaido. Their brochure read, “When Hokkaido is mentioned, people think of long, severe winters and heavy snowfalls, but when the snow season ends, Hokkaido turns into a colorful world of greenery and flowers.

"An outstanding feature is that our weavings are based on such themes as ‘Ice Floes,’ ‘Lilacs,’ ‘Sweet Briar,’ ‘Lake Mashu’ and ‘Swan,’ drawn from the natural beauty and climate of Hokkaido.

"All of the work is done by hand - from the initial spinning and dyeing of the yarns into hundreds of colors - to the final weaving on the hand loom. It may take years to design and complete a new piece."

Colors ranged from white to black. Themes were ice, villages, cranes, meadows, rivers, mountains, land and sea, and combinations of extremes in clear intimate creations.

A woman at a large handloom gently worked threads creating a growing design. People watched in fascination, until, bored by the simplicity of her Zen, scattered.

She twisted threads into a balanced weight and line before pulling and pressing them into a pattern.

“I know her,” he said to Akiko. “Her name is Little Wing. She weaves old stories into life’s tapestry. I remember a dream she created. Would you like to hear it?”

Source: A Century is Nothing.

To Chiba

Namaste noble warrior of the Zen path,

Your haiku writing is inspirational. 
Farewell little French traveller someone whispered.
The father asks me if I have a (wi-fi) signal. You have three signal children and a beautiful signal wife. 
You don't need an electronic signal. He laughed with this small realization.
 
The crazy anxious German man insists on knowing the cremation cost.
I don't want to die, he said, The water is too dirty.
He needs medicine. He needs to slow down. His energy is a violent fireball. 
It consumes his desire. 
He creates his personal cremation ceremony in public places.
 
In dawn light women inspect orange and yellow flowers.
Men haggle over chickens for the new year sacrifice.
The chariot collided with a wall. Wooden wheels are pinned to stone. Towers shift toward gravity.
Boys play with tower brass bells, women offer fire flowers.
Men discuss future engineering projects.
 
Your Sakura cherry blossom are sublime. 
Seasons bloom with love, beauty.

Metta.

Nature

Greetings,

Nature is a gigantic, sublime, violent experiment. Nature is an awesome, beautiful, terrifying and magnificent dramatic lesson in natural laws. Magma at work. Do not disturb. Nature is a wonderful teacher. Nature informs humans in clear non-negotiable terms, you adapt, adjust, evolve or you die. This is natural selection.

Simple as that. Nature said, Unfortunately for all living species, I have no agenda, flight plan, schedule, meeting, commerce, economy, plan, or boarding pass. My departure gate is the crust.

I have a free pass. I have total power. I am unpredictable. I am violent and I am benign. I am gentle, kind and generous. I giveth and I taketh away. Humans will never, with their severely limited intelligence control me, manipulate me or own me. I have vast powers. I create and I destroy. That's my Nature.

Some humans call me Shiva, the Auspicious One. I am the destroyer of life. Fire is my source of power.

Another manifestation is Mahakala, the Lord of Time.

Humans are naturally naive. Naivety and stupidity and laziness is their Nature. They don't listen or pay attention to Nature until it, for example, shifts the plates below the Tibetan plateau causing an earthquake. The natural result is loss of life in Sichuan because shoddy buildings built by greedy humans all fall down smashing 10,000 children. 

Humans use fire to cremate bodies because there are not enough vultures to eat the remains. 

Japan is another example of my power.

Ash, on the other hand, a buy product of Nature goes with the flow.

Metta.