A Year Of Kindness (VIII): Do Unto Others

 

We often think of kindness of something that we are doing for others; I wonder if we ever think that it is something we do for ourselves as well?

"Do unto others what you would have them do unto you".  How often, when I am doing unto others, do I think how I would like it if they did the same thing unto me?  How often do I feel justified when I pop off a smart remark instead of remaining silent or contributing something useful?  How often do I let my anger at an inconvenience to me remind me of the times that I have inconvenienced others?

How often do I reflect on the fact that how people respond to me may, in part, be a result of how I respond to them?

Yes, I know.  People are in fact mean and can be cruel and not everything is a reaction to me:  people have their own battles and struggles going on and sometimes we are casualties in dramas we have no idea are even going on.  But I am not responsible for that.

Kindness is a real and practical way for us to practice what Christ says here.  By treating others as we would be treated, we demonstrate the kindness of Christ - who, after all, treated us with more consideration than we could ever treat Him.

On Memories And The Real World

FOTB (Friend-Of-This-Blog) Old AFSarge at Chant du Depart (and who invariably posts great things - if you do not follow him, you should) wrote a post which I found strangely moving entitled Old Times, Good Times.  It is worth a read; the very short version is it is a walk down memory lane based on a photo from his own childhood and history/story behind it.

From the post: 

"As I get older, I remember times like that more and more.  I can remember the smell of the smoke from the sap being boiled, the wood waiting to go into the fire, the mud, the snow.  The spring sunshine just starting to make the days a little more pleasant after a long winter.

I remember my grandfather, not a man to express his feelings in words, more by deeds.  My Dad, always trying to teach us boys not to be idiots, he had his work cut out for him with me!  Mom and Gram in the kitchen, cooking and/or baking something."

---

That post - those words - resonate with me on a couple of levels.

One is simply the remembering of times long ago, something made more real by the fact that - sooner or later - a place I have a great many childhood and adult memories of, The Ranch, will pass to other hands.  In visiting my parents' house, I have the memories of myself as an adult and Na Clann when they were children, largely suburban children in a forested wonderland.  In visiting my Aunt and Uncle's house - the house that belonged to my Great Aunt and Great Uncle - I have my own boyhood memories, of chickens and walking through a barn filled with all kinds of weird and wonderful things, of watching my dad change his oil and going with him and my Great Uncle to burn brush in the Winter, of family reunions and sitting in my Dad's lap driving the Ford 9N tractor.

Is it fair to call them simpler times? Perhaps, although I am sure to adults living in those times, they likely seemed no simpler than my life today.  Much of what for us is automated was for them manual, meaning more time spent doing things.  You could not have anything you wanted drop shipped to your door step within a day, so you made do with what you had and what your local retailers had.  The health issues we consider resolvable today were not then; we take cancer cures and artery cleanouts for granted when in those days they were death sentences.

The second thing that resonates with me is just the noticing of details.

Modern life, in that aspect, does a number on us.  For many or most of us, our lives are largely defined by the buildings we work in.  Our time outside is a walk from the house or apartment to the car, from the car to the office or light commercial building or industrial site or store we work at, and then the reverse when we go home.  Too often what we see or experience of The Real World is seen through glass or screens, temperatures only experienced in the moments where we do not have climate control.  Communications with others - especially significant others, like friends or family - are too often words on a glowing screen or the odd electronic voice through a phone call. Food is both abundant - and the same; we have strawberries all the time instead of in season.  

One could argue we have gained fresh (but not necessarily good) fruit and on-time delivery at the cost of our souls.

---

Am I calling for some kind of return to some sort of pre-Modern era?

Not necessarily, no.  I do enjoy climate control.  And frankly, the health benefits alone in that so many formally fatal diseases are now treatable and curable are, in my mind, a pretty strong reason to be thankful.

But it does make me ask two things of myself:

1)  Am I creating those memories for others that were created for me?  Arguably in our transient world of commercialism and virtual reality (instead of in-person reality), it is harder than ever to get the sort of Real World memories that are not things like shows we watched or games we played.

2)  Am I taking time to appreciate the world in its beauty and complexity as I can? Do I look at the sunrises and sunsets for a moment instead of rushing to my car?  Do I rejoice and even look wistfully at the clouds and rain (outside my window right now), or consider them a nuisance to be moved through as quickly as possible?  

Do I enjoy and make use (in that sense) of the Real World, or is it simply a place that I inhabit?

A Brief History of Haiku (V)

 One of the ideas that I had about traditional haiku was that it was always supposed to be a serious, meaningful reflection - or "snapshot", as we discussed last week - of nature or life.  Turns out that is completely untrue.  Many of the old masters wrote humorous haiku reflecting their situations as well, and late 19th-early 20th century haiku writers invoked more of modern life into their writings.

"The mosquitoes are out, they're out!"
says the idler,
walking along, slapping them.

- Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827)

Just now, the three bases

are loaded; uncontrollably

my heart is pounding.

- Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902)

Changing lodgings,

pulling out nose hair, too;

plum flowers.

Uejima Onisura (1661-1738)

Just like the persimmons,

my testicles are cold

in the autumn wind.

Taigu Ryokan (1758-1831)

Ignoring the fact that I need

to sleep;

cats in spring

Inoue Seigetsu (1822-1887)

In a lodging you have gotten used to,

even the mosquitos

are interesting.

Takahama Kyoshi (1874-1959)

Completely naked,

I write and offer up a thought 

for today.

Ogiwara Seisensui (1884-1976)

Shelling chestnuts;

how happy the children in beddy-bye will be

tomorrow.

Sugita Hisajo (1890-1946)

Will it be puckery?
I don't know;

the first-picked persimmon.

Fukuda Chiyo-Ni (1703-1775)

Our first telephone.

And sure enough,

my father's voice.

Hoshino Tatsuko (1903-1984)

Works cited:

Wilson, William Scott.  A Beginner's Guide to Japanese Haiku:  Tuttle Publishing, New York:  2022.

A Year Of Haiku (VII): Edo Moon

 

The Moon of Winter:

is it Edo or Tokyo

that it oversees?

(Author's note:  Prior to 1868, Tokyo (東京,"Eastern Capital") was known as Edo (江戸,"Bay Entrance") - The bay, of course, being Edo (now Tokyo) Bay.  Edo had served as the seat of the Tokugawa Shoguns since 1603 while the Emperor lived in Kyoto from 794 to 1868.  With the Meiji Restoration, the Imperial Capital was moved to the newly renamed Tokyo and the two previously seats of power joined into one.)

2026 Japan: Dinners (II)

 The second "kind" of dinners we had were specific restaurants.

One night we had dinner at a Tempura restaurant:

Available condiments were pickled daikon radish and pickled squid.  The pickled squid was...interesting...but not a favorite.

I can understand that some might think we had a lot of beer.  We did have one with a great many dinners.  Frankly, there is no beer so good as a beer after training, and Japanese beers tend to be light.

A paper, hand-written sign advertising the offerings of the restaurant.  This is very traditionally Japanese.

Rice, dipping sauce, and the first tempura offering.  Instead of coming out on a plate, the tempura items were brought individually as they were completed.

Ebi (Shrimp):

Vegetables and fish.  The one on the right is Japanese Pumpkin, which I have never had before.  The item in the small bowl is a tempura egg, almost like a soft boiled egg in tempura.

I have no idea.  It was good though.

Whitefish:

Another night we had dinner at a restaurant serving unagi (Freshwater Eel), a shop not too far from our hotel on a very narrow street. If you did not know (or have an App), as a tourist you would never have known it was there.

The kamidana, or small altar to the kami:

Opener: Salad, lotus roots (and beer, of course):

Pickles.  A small serving of these is often provided at many meals:

Soup:

The main course (in its presentation box):

And open!  Unagi over rice:

Another night, The Ravishing Mrs. TB and I went to a sushi restaurant.  I cannot name all of the sushi below, but at about $20, it was a deal (and delicious!).

Another night we went to a Tonkatsu (Friend pork cutlet) restaurant.  A starting dish (it happened more than once) was cabbage.  This could be refilled as many times as you would like (sadly, not true for the beer):

I had already eaten a pretty big meal before, so I had a small two stick tonkatsu with a side of edamame (steamed soybeans).  The bowl on the left is for grinding spices for the katsu sauce.

The front of the restaurant, showing their offerings:

2026 Japan: Dinners (I)

 Dinners in Japan fell into three kinds of categories.  The first - the ones we will review today - were mostly one offs.

Soba (buckwheat noodles) and donburi (rice with various items - chicken and egg in this case) on our first night in Japan.  This was a shop where one purchased a ticket from a machine, turned it in, and got one's order:

A couple of nights I had onigiri (rice balls) from the grocery store downstairs.  Three made a prefect meal. They were around 300 Yen per item - unless you got there at the last our of operation, when they were 600 Yen for three.  Everything was made fresh daily:

Ehomaki.  A rather fat roll, it is traditional consumed on the holiday of Setsubun, the last day of the Winter before Spring in the Lunar calendar.  Tradition has it that in order to insure good luck for the coming year, one must consume the ehomaki at a single go, without speaking, facing the auspicious direction for that year.

I am not really sure how to classify this. One ordered different kinds of meats and vegetables and they were brought on a very hot iron plate.  One cooked the meat and vegetables right there.

A little more formal dinner at the hotel restaurant.  The main courses are saba (mackeral) and karaage (Japanese fried chicken).  As you may note from the pictures, rice and miso soup is are standard side dishes (the beer may also appear to be a standard side dish but, sadly, must be ordered separately).

Dessert.  A coffee flavoured jelly with ice cream.

Something Lent

 The season of Lent is almost upon us (see what I did there?).

Lent has always occupied an odd corner of my existence.  As a family growing up Episcopalian and then Lutheran, Lent was not something we ever talked a great deal about or did anything for.  It was mostly a church related activity:  the hangings changed, the altar cloths changed, the service excluded certain portions.   I knew of Shrove Tuesday (because we always went to the pancake breakfast) and Ash Wednesday (which we occasionally went to).  It was only later in high school and after college that more of Lent came into view, fueled partially by my friendship with Uisdean Ruadh (a very strong Catholic) and partially by reading more about the history of Lent.

There have been years when I "gave up" certain things for Lent (sugar is the one that regularly made its appearance, although other things have appeared from time to time, like social media or some activity).  There have also been times when I tried to "add" something as a practice - here prayer or reading a particular work.

Interestingly, I do not know that either version particularly changed or improved my Lenten experience.

One of the better ones I remember is reading John Chapters 13-19 weekly.  There are seven chapters (which, conveniently, fit into a week's worth of reading) and it covers from the Last Supper to the Crucifixion of Christ.  It certainly fit well into the somber tone of Lent, reading of Christ's last hours.

I have not fully decided what I am doing this year for Lent - likely a combination of giving some things up and doing some other things.  What is not certain in either category, other than it has to be something that is a noticeable change to my life.

A general question:  How do you observe Lent?