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| Ueno Park, Tokyo |
Sakura! Japan's delight in springtime and sakura is palpable. With them, I have watched expectantly as
the cherry blossoms bud, expand, peek and then burst forth. Like them, I have strolled the parks
and gardens, oohing over the beauty of the individual blooms and the expanse of
trees – “sugoi!” – and taking pictures.
There are thousands of trees – in city parks, along canals, nestled in
nooks between houses or in front of office buildings, moving in waves along and up
Japan’s hills. There is nothing
like it in the US.
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| Imperial Palace, Tokyo |
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| Along a canal in Kyoto |
It was fun walking in the big parks of Tokyo
(Ueno near the Imperial Palace) and Osaka (the Osaka castle grounds and nearby
canals) and watch the throngs of people strolling through. In both, blooming cherry trees arched
across wide walkways. The walks
were hung with lanterns and on the sides were big blue plastic tarps laid or
taped down, places where people could come and picnic. People came in the morning to stake out
their space, bringing food, barbecuers, and beer to gather and celebrate
together. In addition to the
picnic tarps, the city authorities provided huge containers for different kinds
of trash. 
I had the most wonderful time going on a sakura tour
in Chiba prefecture, southeast of Tokyo. My friend Sara had introduced me to friends she had met
when in Japan, Munehara and Shigeko Tokura. Shigeko invited me to join her “tanka group” (more on that
later) to visit Minami Bōsō Park and other areas on Chiba’s southeast coast. We saw hundreds of cherry trees in bloom: in a small park overlooking the sea, on
the grounds of another town’s castle, and lining both sides of a river and
climbing up the nearby hills.
As
others did, we bought bento lunches and picnicked on the small picnic tarps the
group had brought along. We
listened as different groups played traditional Japanese drums, to my ear a mix
of American Indian and jazz. We
wandered among the booths of traditional crafts and foods before heading off to
another park. At night, we stayed in
a traditional ryokan and had a fabulous multi-course meal. Afterwards, we sang karaoke: a person’s song could be programmed into the television, and
a lovely scene, the music, and the words in Japanese appeared to guide the
singer and audience. I sang “Do Re
Me” from “Sound of Music” with the others clapping and laughing along.
As we continued our tour the next day, we stopped to look
at traditional terraced rice fields descending the hills. Machines farm most rice fields today, but these plots are too small. 
And the unexpected joy – riding on the bus back home at the
end of the weekend, watching the sun set over Mount Fuji. (The picture here is from the Shinkansen the next day on the way to Osaka.) I think the tanka group had as much fun
watching me delight in the view as I did in seeing it!
The Stately Zen of Archery. During my visit with Muneharu and Shigeko, Mune, who
recently retired from a career as a designer in a major marketing company, had
arranged for me to watch his archery class. I sat in the judge’s area inside the practice stage, where I
correctly sensed no pictures would be permitted. There were 15 archers ranging in age from 45 to 90, at
different skill levels. Seven were
women.
Archery is a combination of ritual, form, meditation, and
sport. Each person is
dressed in traditional garb: black
pleated wide-legged pants with a kimono-style top that varies according to
one’s level of mastery:
short-sleeves for the beginner, three-quarter sleeves for an
intermediate, and a black or maroon kimono style for the higher level(s). Each archer has his own bamboo bow,
with the tension varying between 15 and 30 kilograms (roughly 33-65 pounds),
and his own bamboo arrows, which can cost up to ¥10,000 (roughly $120) each.
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| Osaka Castle |
In a stately, strictly-followed and silent ritual, each archer approaches, kneels and waits for the people shooting to finish. He/she then approaches the
shooting line, turns, sets his feet, carefully positions the arrow in the bow, and
lowers them to wait his turn. At
the proper moment, he slowly raises the bow and arrow above his head, then lowers them to the proper height, pulls back the arrow and aims, pauses, and finally releases the arrow at
a target about 30 feet away.
Without expression, each archer lowers his arms, brings the feet
together and the process is repeated for shooting the second arrow. As each person finishes, he/she turns, walks to the back of the area, and turns and bows if leaving. Then the next row of six archers, who
have been kneeling patiently, rise and walk to the front.
Mune explained that the bow, shaped like a “}”, is very hard
to control. Mastering archery
involves positioning the body, form, breathing, timing, and release. Together they are designed to help
focus all of one’s energy and mind on the shot. Archery is part meditation, part sport, where form, from
entrance through release and bowing as one leaves, carries as much weight as
the accuracy of the shot itself.
Mune, who has been studying archery for four years, said he spent his first six months learning the proper form,
strengthening his body, learning to breathe and hold the bow and arrow, before
he could go into the practice area and shoot. The arrows first went in different
directions until he learned to control the bow and arrow enough to hit the
target. 
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| Shigeko Tokura |
Ikat Weaving. Mune’s wife, Shigeko, weaves excellent ikat that she has exhibited. Ikat is a traditional
form of weaving that is found in Japan, Indonesia, along the Silk Road in Asia,
as well as Latin America. In ikat, the warp (long vertical thread) is dyed before it is put on the
loom. According to a
pre-determined design, the area that will be dyed is wrapped so the color does
not seep through.
Shigeko specializes in double
ikat, where both the warp and weft (the horizontal thread) is dyed before it is
used. She creates a design, then
lays it out on graph paper to scale, roughly 30” wide and several meters
long. She uses her design to
determine how long the dyed and undyed portions will be, then wraps and dyes accordingly, sometimes using several colors. As she weaves, crisp geometric shapes
form in beautiful patterns. It is difficult,
absorbing, and special.
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| Philosopher's Walk, Kyoto |
Tanka. Tanka is a traditional form of Japanese poetry. We know of the 17-syllable haiku; tanka
is a five-line poem of 5, 7, 5, 7, and 7 syllables. Shigeko started taking a tanka class four or five years ago,
and her sensei (teacher) invited her to join her tanka group, ten women and two
men who live in the Yokohama area.
They meet once a month, each contributing two tanka. The members discuss
how well the poem conveys the feeling the author intended, word choice, and
beauty. Shigeko explained to me
that good tanka conveys a feeling beautifully and clearing, sounds beautiful to
the ear, and looks beautiful on paper.
Both kanji (Chinese characters) and hiragana (Japanese phonetic
characters) are used in combination:
because kanji is considered “hard”, and hiragana “soft”, it is the
combination that makes for a beautifully written poem.
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| The Tanks group |
Shigeko helped me write my first tanka in Japanese, which
the group thought was a good first effort. Here's the English translation:
For the first time:
Japanese sakura,
Spring spirit,
Minami Bōsō,
Meeting friends. Fun.
