Traditional Japan: Cherry Blossoms, Archery, Weaving and Poetry

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. 

 

Imperial Palace, Tokyo

Along a canal in Kyoto

The Japanese celebrate sakura and springtime in a big way.  It is the time when the weather suddenly becomes noticeably warmer; the cherry trees bloom all at once, and in two weeks are gone.  It is a time of new life, new growth, and is Japan’s most important seasonal event.

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.

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.  

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.

 

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.

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.