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Japan: A Culture of Quality

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Edo Period: Yakumi Gata

 

    Rhett (my main contact in Japan and the reason I can behere) took me to an auction today. In his 20 years of auctions in Japan, he has never taken anyone else. Having gone today, I understand why. I'm really happy and grateful for that experience. I'll write more about that later. Working with Rhett is remarkably easy. It's as if we have been working together for years. No worries, no crossed messages, just an ease of going through each day together, enjoying the same things and working with the same challenges. What a gift.

 

    Strangers have been overwhelmingly generous to me. When we are out buying, often prices are half what Rhett would have expected. I think people sense my love. We walked into a junk/antique shop today owned by an old friend of Rhett's. After looking for half an hour and buying a few good pieces at good prices, I found on a table in the back of the shop, a very small, wooden folk art animal/toy that appeared to be about a hundred years old. I wanted to ask about it, but the owner and Rhett were outside talking. I held the toy for a minute and thought, "If I were to be given a gift, this would be it."

 

    It was an idle thought because that kind of gift giving is unusual in this situation in Japan. It happens frequently in Indonesia, but not here.  I put the toy back and wandered through the shop until the owner came back in. A few minutes later, as I was pawing through a stack of kimonos, the owner touched my arm and held out a small wooden toy to me and said, "Gift."  It was the same toy I'd held and wished for only a few minutes earlier.

 

    Of the thousands of objects in the shop, she chose that piece as a gift. Perfectly in tune, that gift was followed by a string of other gifts, a copper hibachi, Japanese dolls in glass cases and more. Rhett pulled me aside and asked: "What's with the gifts, man?" I said, "Just a past life connection, it's OK."

 

    I don't understand what took me so long to get here. The Japanese aesthetic, the beauty, the off-balance balance, and a hundred everyday nuances touch me. This is a culture I know I will never truly understand yet it feels so easy, so natural to me. Japan's everyday rhythms match my own. I bow and bow again and am happy to be bowing to others. I want to honor each person whom I meet. Our bows to each other do just that, and more...

 

Be well.

The Gateway to Heaven

    On my first morning in Kyoto I walked into an 800-year-old temple garden. When confronted by the precision of elegantly raked sand, vivid mounds of spring-green moss, and 400-year old windswept pines, I stood stock still, deeply touched, and unable to move forward. I'd found perfection. In this garden, man and nature merged to create a simple, absolute gift. This was one of those rare moments when thought utterly disappears and inexplicable joy takes its place.

 

    Tears welled up and spilled down my face: "I'm home!" These were my first thoughts when the sweet shock of ecstasy faded and my thoughts returned. This experience was what I might imagine stepping through the gates of heaven would feel like.

 

    The sensation of tears drying on my cheeks reminded me I was in a public garden, so I moved through the next gate and stepped aside for a group of high school kids taking photos of themselves, each other, and almost incidentally, the garden, with frenetic goodwill. They were sweet to watch and I enjoyed the replay of memories that surfaced from my teens. Having sensed another wave of home/heaven emotion coming my way, I scanned the garden for a spot to hide and let the beauty sink in. 

 

    I try but can't understand the unbalanced balance of the Japanese aesthetic, the seemingly effortless perfection that took 700 years of constant attention to create. Nature, so carefully managed and controlled, became perfectly natural. My thoughts were again forgotten as a group of multicolored koi swam past me and under a small, arched, 600-year-old stone bridge, only to disappear quickly around a bend in the stream.

"Take 99" Wrap Up

   "Take 99", our Elephant Show in April was a huge success.  Thank you for coming to the opening and buying elephants. The eight, happy Balinese who won the prizes for best elephants were honored at a dinner in late May in Ubud, Bali where I presented the awards and cash prizes. I think the awards and recognition were more valued than the money.

 

    It was a sweet, memorable evening for us all. In addition, the foundation, IGNITE: A Foundation for Learning (www.igniteafl.org) was presented with a check for over $1,500 derived from sales of the elephants. This donation will be used in our school for severely underprivileged children in Delhi, India.  Thanks again for contributing to a fun project benefiting so many people in Bali and India.

Bali's Beloved Ducks

    The rice was planted two different times in front of the villa this season with some fields being harvested a few weeks before the others. The harvested areas are being gleaned by huge squadrons of ducks, while the rest of the rice is still ripening and awaiting the scythe.

 

    For some reason this season there are no morning bird-chasers out in the fields, shouting, banging garbage can lids, and waving flags on long poles to chase away the wild birds who steal the precious rice. While the bird-chasers make a good story, the noise disturbs my morning contemplation of the universe, so I'm grateful for the break in that rice field routine.

 

    The morning remains quiet...until the ducks are sent out on their daily sortie. The ducks' performance varies minute to minute, from military precision to quacking chaos.  They line up in ranks and charge over the rice field terrace walls to conquer new territory, screaming their unlikely battle cry.  Once the field is secured, quiet descends as they get down to the serious task-at-hand of eating fallen rice from the muddy soup the fields have become. They eat and they contribute to the fertility of the fields in almost equal measure. The ducks' by-product is the reason for their existence in the farmer's eyes. That and duck soup or grilled sate the family will enjoy sometime in the future. 

 

    With enough territory conquered and explored for the day, the ducks again gather back into formation and march along the foot wide rice field dikes on their way to the duck-barracks for some quiet quacking until dark, some shut eye, and the chance to do it all over again tomorrow, if they're lucky.