On Conversations

This past week I had the good fortune to have coffee with The Dog Whisperer,  part of the larger "Grand Farewell Tour" that has been going on since the notification of the new job became confirmed.  

By the time I looked up at the watch, I realized that over three hours had gone by with us just talking about this and that:  our former employer, her job search, iaijutsu (when will I never talk about that that), animals, life in general.  "This was great" I commented as we were leaving.  "I never seem to have these sorts of conversations any more".

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This is not the first conversation of late I have had to this extent: recently my standing call with Rainbow ran a full two hours and coffee with another former employee ran 1.5 hours.  Conversations with La Contessa when I am in Old Home do not go less than 1.5 hours and often over that.  And as I thought on these things, the comment I made to The Dog Whisperer came up again:  Why do I not seem to have these kinds of conversations any more?

Or perhaps more appropriately, why do we - I, at least - not make the time to have them?

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Social media and technology has done a great deal, both good and ill. One of the good things that it has done is that it has allowed people to find other people that share their interests in a way that one could not before:  many of those that share my interests live in other states or other countries, and even on this blog I have "found my tribe" thanks to the InterWeb.  And it allows us to keep in touch with each other in a way that we would not have been able to before: information (pictures, conversations) can take place in virtually real time from anywhere in the world (not that I often awake to watch the live coverage of the annual Kobudo Kyokai demonstration with a massive time difference, but I could if I wanted to).  A large part of the origination of the more frequent writing on this blog, in fact, was to be able to share my life in New Home with my family, primarily TB The Elder, who faithfully read it daily up to the end of 2020 (although, as he often informed me, he did not always "get" everything I wrote about).

That said, social media and technology bring issues as well.  A simple issue is simply that by finding "more people like me", I also tend to focus on communication with those people and less with others, something that - like or not - we had to do in the analog age of society.  Another thing is that conversations often are not in "real time", but rather in the time it takes to respond.  It is rather like an author writing a book:  the author can get up, walk around, get a drink, and then get back to writing.  For the characters, it is as if no time has passed.  Thus, conversations are often always a sort of hanging conversation, with responses drifting in and out based on availability and interest.  

It can be great for keeping in touch.  It is less great when one is seeking deep and engaging conversations.

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Along with the fact we seem to talk less to each other, we also seem to set aside less time to talk to each other.

Once upon a time - within my lifetime - we dropped by to "talk to people".  I would be tempted to say that this is a preserve of the older generation (as I am almost "in" that generation now), except that habit seems to less prevalent than it used to be even among them.

On one hand, I can understand that.  In the modern day society in which we live, people are busy.  Schedules can be mapped out for days, weeks or even months in advance.  Simply "stopping on by" almost smacks of a certain rudeness, a sort of enforced demand to make conversation:  "Behold, it is I, descended from the bounds of Mt. Olympus. Stop ye thine activities and converse".  Most people will make an attempt, but there is nothing less conducive to conversation than someone constantly checking their watch or phone or the clock, fidgeting as the seconds tick by.

On the other hand, our modern day society can program time to where we simply have none to give:  every hour, every minute, every second needs to be "productive".  We must do the things and meet the objectives, personal or familial or corporate.  Conversation becomes something that happens "in between" other things, snatched at the beginning and end of meetings or mentioned as individuals pass in the home or church or social events on their way to the next thing - or, as noted above, in the quasi-timelessness of electronic space.

Unemployment gives one an odd reprieve on this order, almost a unique one:  one has all the time in the world and yet no time at all, flipping between the driving force of needing to find work and the reality that one cannot will a job into existence.  Conversations become easier when the currency one has is time itself with no other pressing thing to spend it on.

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In high school, and even into our community college days, Uisdean Ruadh and I would walk the rails and talk.

The walk to the railroad near my house was not more than a quarter mile; from there we would walk the rails into my home town - if one walks far enough, one ends up at the former train station from years gone by.  This was long ago, when two young men walking the railroad tracks in small town America was likely to cause no more fuss than a recommendation to "Watch for trains".

These walks could take two or more hours, the crunching on the gravel giving way to the slap of our shoes on pavement and sidewalk as we walked the streets until, tired or talked out, we would make our way back to my house.  The conversations are not now specific in my mind, except the fact that we talked - about everything: school, plans, wild fantasies of imaginations, girls, religion - in many ways like our conversations now. 

These were never forced, and likely we seldom had a specific goal in mind for for our conversations.  We just walked and talked, two young men with no money and no better activity than to banter with words.

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If one has a conversation - a true conversation, not just the banal sort of exchange that seems to pass for such these days - one forgets the wonder of what a conversation can truly be.

To talk back and forth, to see point and counterpoint spiral up and above and overtopping one another, to find out things one never knew about the other - "Oh, you enjoyed that too?" -, to spend the time truly talking about a subject without worrying about the time ticking down:  this is perhaps in some ways a very faint reflection of Heaven. I can never see myself talking to God in this way - the difference between us is far too large - but I can see having such conversations with The Saved, where time simply has no meaning and conversations can truly go on as long as they need to (as a side note, I suspect prayer is supposed to be like this, but mine never feel this way).

But all of this starts with something.  And that something is a conversation, a real conversation.  And to have a real conversation, one has to reserve and spend the time.

I cannot say that I will suddenly change how I do such things, or even that I can.  But these slivers of the real sort of thing make me hunger for such intellectual stimulation and true sharing of the intellect and souls are the more.

Odd that technology allows to connect more than ever, yet seems to deny us the ability to actual converse.

The Collapse CXXXVII: Things

07 July 20XX+1

My Dear Lucilius:

It is high Summer here. Not unbearable to be sure, but certainly even with insulation it is still a little warmer than I like.

In my absence, Pompeia Paulina took it upon herself to give the Cabin a thorough cleaning and reorganization, which I understand happened at her former house as well (now Young Xerxes and Stateira’s, of course). As much of a curmudgeon as I can be, even I am forced to admit that it was both called for and merited: old men bachelors may be good at a great many things, but internal home organization and even cleaning is not always one of them.

Beyond just the cleaning and re-organization, there was of course the inevitable combining of households. As I believe I have mentioned before, my house is “suddenly” decorated in a Southwestern motif that was not there before. My armoire and closet have a selection of clothes that were not there previously. Things have moved – not enough to be lost, but enough to be inconvenient at the moment when I look for them.

And wonder of wonders, my bookshelves have all been dusted.

The rabbits – always existing in the “now” – look at me with shock when I ask Pompeia Paulina about the location of something. “It has always been that way” they seem to say as they look at me and loaf, clearly enjoying the fact that two people in the home means more attention for them.

This re-organization did, however, bring up the rather pertinent question of what to do with everything else.

Once upon a time, of course, anything that was not used would have been ended up in a yard sale, local or community, or simply sent away to a donation for some charitable group. Yard sales are a thing of the past now, and charitable groups are neither present nor near nor, likely operational. And so now we have things which, although not necessarily needed now, are not easily disposed of.

I say not easily disposed of. It is not just because those yard sales and those charitable organizations no longer exist. It is because every thing now represents something of potential value, or at least something which for all we know will never be produced again.

Some of this, of course, can still be sold or given away (charity did not die just because society did). But although I like to believe that I did a good job of cleaning things out even before I moved and tried to minimize since then, even I am forced to admit that there are things that were still held on to for nostalgia or a purpose which has now disappeared.

Buried in a small wooden chest in my closet are cards, cards that are nothing but paper and pictures and signatures – but cards that hold all the significance in the world to me as they represent snippets of my life: birthdays, anniversaries, significant days, given to me by people who are no longer there. Sure, I could use the space – but I cannot bring myself to sacrifice the memories.

Others are more practical in nature: the small food processor or food dehydrator that once upon a time I used to prepare dried fruit and beef jerky, all now silenced by an absence of power that seems likely not to return anytime soon. Yes, parts of such items may still be useful – trays, for example, can still hold things – but as a unit, they are little more than paperweights now.

It is not just an idle discussion: Even if one does not need such things, where does one put them? Just laying things out and about has never been my modus operandi; like my father I like a house that is outwardly and inwardly organized. Yet there is only so much storage space in the shed to hold extra things, in a space that already full of items needed for maintenance.

We cannot just throw things away, but neither can we just keep everything. At least it makes for an interesting puzzle to think on as we work out in the garden and yard.

Your Obedient Servant, Seneca

A Post-Script of Sorts: While I have not said anything to Pompeia Paulina yet, the food situation for ourselves and indeed the community this year is a growing concern in my mind. Unlike last year, we do not have the tail end remnants of a society to pull from. I have an idea, albeit a rather ridiculous one that I will field with Young Xerxes. Better to be shot down by him than continue it up a chain without walking through it.

On Losing Interest In Brands

Although I typically do not discuss "modern" or "pop" culture here, it is not something that I am completely unattuned to.  I follow a series of posters on The Tube of You that comment on such things - mostly movies, games and comics.  It is not that I am specifically into any of those currently, but I am familiar with the intellectual properties and having a passing interest in the direction of the industry.

Earlier this week I was listening to one such broadcast in which they were discuss the trajectory of a long running intellectual property.  Listening to the discussion, I suddenly made the discovery of how little I held any interest in "brands" anymore.

As I sat and thought about it more, the fact became more apparent to me.  I am generally not a watcher of "series", and I have not collected any sort of things - be they series of books, entertainment, or even "things" - in years.  Sure, I still hold an interest in 1st Edition Gamma World items and look (here and here), but seldom if ever do I find something I do not have.  Most of my purchases for the past years have either been of specific authors I like or just random things that catch my eye and hold my interest.  

It extends to other things as well:  I am far more likely anymore to purchase something from a small or specialty vendor or local chain than I am from a corporate brand.  Part of that is just a preference to fund the small rather than the large; part of that is sheer obstinance on my part even if it may cost me a bit more more.

Which of course, is exactly the wrong sort of opinion to have in the current economy.

Consumer based economies require people to purchase things - be they actual physical things or non-physical things such as e-books (real books being physical of course), games, movies, or other intangible items.  Best of all if you can convince people that they "need" to have all the things in order to be happy.

What happens when - if by finance, economy, or personal choice - people stop buying things, or more specifically non-specifically, things that they do not need?  Maybe even the things that industry has “convinced them they need?  What happens if that built in market dies?

The good news, I suppose, is I think we are getting to witness it in real time - if by "good news", I mean "actual verification of theoretical impacts".  

For many years, many companies have been able to assume that customers would simply be there, because "brands" and engagement and the power of marketing convincing people they need everything, including those things that they do not really need to survive. In the world we seem to be entering, Such things seem to no longer be a given.

It is one thing to assume and believe that the customer can and will buy your wares because they have always done so.  It is another to realize that that customers are not necessarily the captive, built in market you wanted or needed them to be.

On The Ending Of Viewing The Job Search Boards

 On of the things I am looking forward to most about starting a new job is the fact that I will not have to look at job hunting sites anymore (LinkedOut, Maybe, ObscuredDoor).

To be fair, the actual job search process using these engines has been pretty streamlined (although, as a note, not one of the potential offers I had or the offer I accepted came from these sites). They are all to some extent more or less customizable, so it becomes more of a question of simply creating the search parameters and narrowing them to the dates one wants to look (anywhere from "past 24 hours" to "past 3 days").  

No, what I will not miss is what the sites are.

Maybe is the easiest site in that regard:  there is no news or posts, just jobs.  ObscuredDoor is a little worse in that regard in that there are some discussion areas, but those can be easily clicked away from and the search conducted.  No, the real issue is LinkedOut.

Opening LinkedOut always brings you to the main screen.  Here you will find a combination of one of the following:

- People starting new jobs or being promoted

- People laid off from jobs and looking for work

- People self-promoting

- Companies self promoting

In other words, it is kind of a big promotion fest stylized as the go-to location for business.  And to be frank, days of it get tiring.

Social media is slightly different in that on The Book of Face or ProlongedGram, you generally see things posted by friends or things that are of interest to you or sometimes both.  People actually share their lives in some form or fashion; humor actually makes an appearance occasionally (to be fair, not always good humor, but humor).

On LinkedOut, not so much.  Occasionally someone shares a personal story or an industry appropriate humor comment will appear.  But on the whole, it is social media for business:  imagine your workplace as a connection sties.  That is LinkedOut.

It is, in a word, boring.

Do I have a presence there?  Sure; I even updated it for my job search.  But I almost never post anything there about anything; given the current business environment it is better to be invisible than to be at all visible.  And - hopefully - once I start this job, I can simply forget it exists other than to update my history with my new job information.

It is not that LinkedOut was probably not a good idea at the time it started, a business portal for individuals to connect with other individuals.  And it does have its uses:  often when I am interviewing with someone or being audited by someone, I will check to see their experience and background. So for reference, it is a great tool.

For anything else, it has become the equivalent of the town billboard, a host of information posted that has almost nothing to do with anything of actual impact to my life.

The Week Of Lasts

 This has become the Week of Lasts.

Yesterday was my last formal day at both Church and the Church Coffee Bar and at the Rabbit Shelter.  This Thursday will be my last day on Produce (A)Isle.  This Saturday will be my last day of Iaijutsu at my current dojo.  Sunday, I will be on a plane - first to Old Home to begin the discussion about my parents' estate (and The Ranch), and then the following Thursday on what will become New Home 2.0.

It is an odd thing, this packing of Lasts into a short time frame.  On one hand it makes the pain of separation bard but fast, the ripping of the existential Band-Aid with the brief pain followed by relief - there is little time to drag on the leaving of things.  There is a date and then this thing ends, and this thing, and so on and so on.

On the other hand, it it feels like a series of great losses in my life.

These activities that are ending are not - with the exception of Produce (A)Isle - recent additions.  I have been involved with these places for ten to fifteen years.  All of a sudden - essentially in the period of two weeks - they are being put to the wayside.  Sure, I may return as a visitor in the coming year and periodically after that - I have been encouraged to do so - but those returns will be different.  One is no longer an active week in/week out participant.  One is a visitor - a visitor with history, but a visitor from the past, a sort of time-traveler that returns to see how things are going without the ability to really change anything.

Over time, the memory of me will fade in all of these places.  I will become "Hey, do you remember...."  If I am exceptionally lucky, I will pass into Institutional Lore, a sort of legendary presence that fewer and fewer actually knew but many know only through the stories told about them.   

Perhaps that is the best of all possible worlds - to live in stories, long after I am gone and the actual events are forgotten.  And, of course, new stories cannot start until the old stories finish.

One Road Leads Home

 

Farming Looks Mighty Easy

 Sadly, this is the opinion of most of the modern world about farming.  Yet they depend almost completely on someone - someone else, usually, do the work.

Despise that which you rely on, and eventually it will not longer be there to rely on.

Training 2024: Learnings

 

Utagawa Hiroshige, Autumn Moon at Ishiyama, 1834 (Source)

For my trip to Japan in 2024, we have discussed location and facilities, meals, vending machines, and other places I had seen (here and here).  What we have yet to discuss is what I actually learned.

It is not as ethereal a subject as it might sound like.  We are required to write a paper every time we train with our headmaster stating what we learned during our time with him.  My understanding is that somewhere out on the InterWeb, all of these papers exist (no idea where, of course).  My Sensei has always been kind enough to share his drafts with me; what I suspect is that everyone takes away both general things and things specific to their situation.

More relevant to this discussion, of course, is what did I learn?

Learnings for these events fall into two parts.  The first is that of technique, corrections received that are general to the waza being practiced and applicable to all or specific to the individual and their practice of it.  Mine for this category were not, for the most part, surprising to me:  Posture.  Grip.  Height (e.g., I need to be lower).  Straight(er) back (something I have been battling for 15 years).  Cutting angles (hasuji).  Area and direction of my gaze (metsuke).    To correct these is practice, feedback, more practice.

The second part - what did I take away as an individual - is always the more interesting and revealing part.  These have differed from year to year, based largely on where I was in my life at the time.

It all started with stiffness.

One of the corrections I received multiple times this training was that I was too stiff.  My grip on the sword handle (tsuba) was compared to a "death grip"; my completion of any technique was noted as being rigid not just in my grip, but in my whole body.   I was strong - very much so - but with flexibility, I would never truly perform the technique.

"A living hand is pliable; a dead hand is fixed" wrote Miyamoto Musashi, the 17th Century swordsman who knew a thing or two about swordsmanship.  It was not a minor thing.  

The encouragement, therefore, was to relax.

Relaxing in swordsmanship is something that seems to be at odds with the practice itself, at least in my mind - but then, as I considered it, in point of fact it was true of almost all aspects of my life: I am tense.  I tense up.   This is true in social situations for sure, but really it is true of any situation in which I have to make a decision or sometimes even just the thought of doing anything.  I become paralyzed and I become stiff.

Enter a hot bath and fluorescent lighting.

One evening in the ofuro, the beloved hot soaking tub that is a staple of Japanese onsen and even our humble training center, I sat looking at the reflection of the fluorescent lights above the tub in the water.  The water was stirred up due to the activity of people getting in and out.  The fluorescent lights above the tub chipped and shattered into a million light shards in the pool, lighted waves rippling back and forth in endless motion.

It was only when everything stopped - when no-one had entered or exited the pool, or when we just sat there - that the fluorescent lights reflected clearly in the pool.

The moon and water is a common motif in Japanese art, a staple of poetry and paintings and woodblocks.  Even in our sword art, there is a technique that is literally translated as "Water Moon Sword", the imagery of the two swords reflecting each other like the moon and water.  

Suddenly - in what I would not name "Satori" (enlightenment) but enlightening - I saw clearly that only when one is at peace and relaxed can one truly see and reflect what is around one.  Any stress, any disturbance, and the image is lost in a jumble of moving waves and fractured light.  And so if I wanted to improve my technique - to become less stiff and rigid - I needed to practice being at peace and relaxing, even in the midst of practicing forms.  It also helps in that only when one is at peace and still that one can see those subtle visual and mental cues that in the life a swordsman determined when to draw and in the life of ordinary people when an action was required.

The lesson, at least as I understood it, became even more critical upon my return and indeed during the past week:  being stirred up and anxious prevents me from seeing things for what the really are.  If I can bring my intensity down, manage my internally generated stress, I become free to act in ways that are actually beneficial.

I cannot say I am implementing this well; like anything it is a learned activity that has 50 plus years of habit and training going against it.  But I have at least been able to make myself conscious that such a thing is happening, and if I can realize its occurrence, I can take measures against it.

The moon will always be there to reflect in the water; likewise, every day is an opportunity to learn afresh that only through stillness and calm can relax enough to see things clearly.

A Collapse, A Passing, And The End of Things

(First things first - no post from Seneca (directly) this week.  My apologies as the week has taken turns I did not anticipate.)

One of the surprising things about life to me is that sometimes it imitates art; sometimes, that imitation even seems to precede life itself.

That is a bit of a ridiculous statement to me of course; the idea that somehow art (in my case, fiction) can somehow precede an actual change in life or events is the sort of thing of mystical fantasy, whereby the combination of unique ingredients and the summoning of An Other from The Outer Planes results in small glimpses into the future.

And yet, here we are.

Attentive folks have commented on the fact that Seneca seems to have undergone a change, sometime between setting out for what will go down in whatever annals of history are to be kept as The Battle of McAdams.  It is not a hard thing to write, of course; literature and history are replete with the experiences of those that went out to war and what they were like when the return (Note:  The 1920's called, and they are looking for their Lost Generation).  There are events which change us - and not all bad of course: something as benign as marriage or the birth of a child or graduating with a degree can suddenly set a different course.

When I had accepted the new job (was it only a week ago), my reasoning was sound at the time:  not only did I need a job (big one there), this was a job that had a good package associated with it and the potential for growth and even to end my career there.  It also had the benefit of being much closer to The Ranch and my mother.  The ability to be able to get down to see her had become a a very motivating factor - so motivating, in fact, that I surrendered another job option for it.

Ah, the difference of a week.

Since Monday, I have been re-asking myself the question "Did I really make the right choice?"  It is a fair question, perhaps, given that somehow one of the major things underlying that decision has changed and the decision itself has had its own series of impacts.

It is like this when one moves:  the decision to move is rapidly overtaken by a series of tasks that needs to be accomplished.  It is also overtaken by the fact that streams start to shut down, like bodily systems slowly closing out their appointed tasks on their way to death.

That is happening here of course:  end dates of things that I do here are counting down like clockwork.  The last day of coffee bar at Church is this Sunday, as well as the last formal day at the Rabbit Shelter.  The last day of Produce (A)Isle is the following Thursday, followed by the last Iaijutsu training and a departure lunch.    I leave the next day to go to The Ranch to do a quick sweep and meet with the lawyer about the estate.  

On Thursday, I leave for what is effectively a new life.

It is not a new life all at once, of course; these things never are.  But the locus of attention will have shifted. "New Home" is a place that I may still go back to and visit more frequently at first, but those visits will likely taper off as things move on.  As life, really, moves on.

On the one hand of course, it is a great End.  On the other hand, of course, it is a great Beginning.

It is a great Beginning because effectively, I get to re-create a life from scratch. Yes, there is a dojo there in my style and I will train.  Yes, there are rabbits shelters and I will inevitably find one and volunteer.  But both of those likely will be different days and times and probably involve less time overall. 

While certainly it is a not a "Everything burned to the ground and we are starting over", it is somewhat of a "Choose your own adventure" sort of moment.

Or, having seen a major change, everything downstream now changes.

Seneca, perhaps, is on to something.

The Passing Of Mom: Odds, Ends, And Plannings

 The Day After the Day.  The surreal sense of things is still present, brought on by things mostly outside of my control.

The notifications are mostly done.  I had to call my oldest and youngest (Nighean Gheal and Nighean Dhonn) as they are both out of town.  An awkward thing, especially for someone like myself who is not good at discussing my emotions at the best of times.  It is always a hard conversation, some version of "Hi, how are you, I have not the great news....".  Not a surprise to them either, but not any easier because of that.

I have being stalling on The Great Social Media post until we had a funeral date, which we now do - the middle of  May if you are in the neighborhood of the continental U.S. (offer not good in Alaska and Hawai'i). For someone that writes as much as I do, you would think this would not create quite an issue.  It does, though - both because of the fact that it is (hopefully, and possibly in all likelihood) the last one of these I will have to write for a long time (if ever), and partially because it will be seen by a lot of people that may have a lot of questions I do not have the answer to, like "What did she die from?" or "What happens to The Ranch?" or even just "How are you doing?"

Unfortunately, I have no idea how I am doing, well meaning person that is asking.  You and I both have the same question and concern.

For better or worse (mostly worse) outside of family, there are not many people left to contact - my parents have the same issue many of their generation has of having outlived most of the their peers and interest groups.  One call to their former church, one call to a colleague of my mother's - and that is that.  Likely the funeral service will be even smaller than my father's.  In 1.5 years, that seems like an ominous reduction of people.

Although given that I am moving soon anyway I had not initially planned to there again for a bit, but due to this event, I am headed back out the week of 10 March - mostly to go with my sister and meet with the lawyer and see what the next steps are in settling the estate.  While I do not have a lot of discomfort about this - we must be on some kind of timetable, but not a "We need to get it down right now" timeframe - it still makes me unsettled.  This is yet another change in a year which is already bustling with them, and brings to mind a new round of financial planning and repairs and "well, maybe I do not have to pack everything up" that I find myself suddenly unable to deal with all at once. 

And a funeral speech, of course.  I will have to write one of those - again, hopefully, the last one that I will have write in a very long time, perhaps forever.  Fortunately I have two months.

Knowing me, it will likely take that entire time to write.

The Passing Of Mom

 My mother passed away yesterday.  She managed to just slip past her birthday to 84 years.

Apparently the home she was in called my sister and let her know she had evidenced some problems breathing - and suddenly, she was gone.

I went to see her when I was home two weeks ago.  

In going, I knew she had been having health issues.  On my arrival that week, my sister let me know that she had fallen twice and was essentially unable to walk, even with our assistance - something that was not true 4 months ago.  The home had asked my sister to start buying nutritional drinks for her as she was not eating well; recently she would only take her food pureed. 

My visit this time was no different than they had been in the last few months:  my mother was awake (although just as often in the last few months she was asleep) and staring off into the distance.  She would not make eye contact and may or may not have been aware that I was even there.

I had become used to this, of course.  The first time or two it was disconcerting, but I had simply learned to just talk on.  And so this time - as in months past - I said hi and updated her on how the family was doing, where The Ravishing Mrs. TB was off to and what the grandchildren were up to, and what I was up to.  I finished with telling her I loved her, and was on my way.

I was probably there 5 minutes all told.  Even then, the gauntness of her frame (96 lbs. from a recent medical visit) suggested that that her passing was a very real potential outcome.

Now, suddenly, everything is different.

As Nighean Bhan said about the passing of TB The Elder, it is more of a shock than a surprise - after all, the outcome of Alzheimer's is never in doubt.  And my mother is now herself, as I remember her, united now with her parents and sister and all of her Great-Aunts - and TB The Elder, of course.

In the few months leading up to their moving in 2020 and 2021, every night my mother would offer to rub my father's back on the couch.  It remained the one thing that she apparently felt able to do for my father after all the other things she had done over the years had slipped away with Alzheimer's.  And so, every night, she would sit on the couch and my father would lay down and she would rub his back.  Likely they did so the last night before they moved.

As awful as it sounds, it is a great relief.  My mother can finally get herself back. Her long journey of slowly losing herself is going and, as C.S. Lewis would probably say, she is more herself now than she ever was.  But all of a sudden, this year seems a lot less like a musical coda, where one returns to the previous bars of music to repeat, and more like a transition to an entirely different section of the music.

Training 2024: Food

Beyond the three square meals a day we had at the training center, we still had to eat prior to our arrival there and after we left.  Below is a compendium of other meals we had.

Unagi Bowl:  Grilled eel over rice

Breakfast at our first hotel:  The bread item on the left hand side of the plate is a curry doughnut.  Actually better than it sounds:

Bento, the ubiquitous boxed lunch of Japanese train stations.  There are many varieties, and regions are known for their specialties.  This one was fried chicken:

Traditional soba (buckwheat) noodles.  The jar on the left is the dipping sauce, which one pours into small dish then dips the noodles in.  Slurping the noodles is considered polite.  Of note, one does not use all the sauce but leaves some in the jar.  There are containers on the table that contain the water the noodles were boiled in that day.  One takes the water and pours it into the jar, making a soup to drink.

Udon (wheat) noodles with tofu:

Japanese burger meal (with fries) from Mos Burger:

Onigiri (rice wrapped in seaweed in a triangle shape, sometimes with fish or vegetables inside) and a mochi (red bean) bun:

After our last night training in Tokyo, we went out to a traditional style ramen shop.

All of the additions, which included ginger, garlic, and various peppers:

The order board:

Our meal, pork ramen and gyoza:

Instructions for how to prepare and eat the meal:

After ramen, we had dessert later.  Gelatinous coffee flavoured dessert with ice cream and mochi

Typical hotel breakfast we had during our second stay in Tokyo:

Final meal at Narita Airport, Chinese style noodles with fish cake:

God’s Purposes

Or as C.S. Lewis said in Mere Christianity, "There are only two kinds of people in the end:  Those who say 'Thy will be done' and those who say 'Thy will be done'. "
 

Hammerfall 3.0: Week 10 Report (Final)

 Period: 17 February 2024 to 23 February 2024

Positions applied to:  I applied to 1 position during this period. Total jobs applied to/opportunities investigated are 86 unique positions.

Rejections:  I was rejected for 3 positions (26 rejections total).

Conversations: 

I had one conversation with the other potential job interview process.  As it turns out, they had not come to a conclusion the previous week but had this week and asked if I would be interested in advancing to the next round.  This was early Tuesday morning; later that morning I had the actual verbal offer.  I had to politely decline moving forward for the process.

And, obviously, I did get a call from the company that issued offer.

Offers:  I had (and accepted) one offer (Yay!).

Job losses:  Clade Therapeutics (no numbers) and Ring Therapeutics (19 people) both announced layoffs.

Mood:

As noted in my post on Thursday, the offer letter arrived precisely 70 days out from my initial notification of furlough.

An interesting note is that the position that ended up being the one that I received an offer for was the one that represented the "lowest" level position I had applied for.  I did it as something both of a lark and a gamble that for a large company, my chances of being hired in at my current level were low, but my chances of being hired as a lower level employee were greater due to my experience.  For better or worse, it appears that the gamble paid off.

As indicated in the announcement post, I continue to remain grateful to all who prayed and/or had good thoughts.  Even though I have job now, a heck of a lot of people still do not. If you have the occasion to offer a similar prayer or good wish once in a while for those folks as well, I am sure it would be appreciated.

Training 2024: Sengaku-ji And The 47 Ronin

 Sengaku-ji (Sengaku Temple) is a temple located in the greater Tokyo metropolitan area .  Originally founded in 1612 by Tokugawa Ieyasu, it became famous as the final resting place of The 47 Ronin.

Outer gateway to Sengaku-ji

The Ako Icident (as it is formerly referred to in the history of the time) started in 1701, when a daimyo, Asano Naganori, was forced to commit seppuku (ritual suicide, literally "cutting of the stomach") after he attacked a high court official, Kira Yoshinaka, in the palace of the Shogun.  To draw a sword inside the castle was strictly forbidden, to attack even more so.  Asano had felt deeply insulted as Kira has degraded and insulted him in the course of instructing him in court etiquette (popular rumor was it was because Kira was hoping for a bribe).

Original entrance gate to Sengaku-ji

After his suicide, the Shogunate demanded the Asano family's domain of Ako be surrendered (along with its castle), its goods confisticated, and its samurai made ronin (literally "A man of the waves" or a masterless samurai, which did not find a place in the Tokugawa's Neo-Confucian social structure of warrior, merchant, farmer, and craftsman).

Enter Oishi Kuranosuke, head chamberlain of the Asano Clan.

Statue of Oishi Kuranosuke

Oisihi, having been notified of the impending forfeiture, first moved the remaining Asano family members and then, against the arguments of some of his clan, formally surrendered the castle and its domain.  He requested to re-establish the house of Asano but failed.

In the meantime, he had a second plan.

Main Temple, Senkaku-ji

Oishi began reaching out to former retainers of the Asano with a plan:  To take revenge on Lord Kira by his assassination. This would be difficult, as Kira was on the watch and carefully monitoring the movements of Oishi and many of the former Asano samurai. 

Rear view of the Main Gate

And so Oishi hatched a plot.  Reaching out to key retainers, he began to construct a plan whereby he and the retainers would ambush Kira.  This would have to be completed in secret and could not be done while Kira suspected a thing.

Bell Tower

Not only would the men have to gather; they would have to get arms and armor without raising suspicion and assemble at a given time when Kira was in a location and no longer suspicious.

Temple Buildings

The execution of the plan took 14 months.  During that time, Kira's agents tracked Oishi in Kyoto.  What they saw was a man who apparently had given himself over entirely to pleasure, visiting the pleasure quarters and drinking and carrying on with women.  All the time in the background, the team continued to work to gather arms and manufacture armor in secret and remain in contact.

Plum blossoms in February

Finally, Kira's agents gave up. Oishi had turned into a wastrel and his men the same.  There was no threat.

On 31 January 1703, Oishi and 46 other ronin, all former retainers of the Asano, stormed Kira's mansion in Edo (now Tokyo).  Splitting into two groups (Kuranosuke led one and his son, 15 year old Chikara, led the other,) they captured the porters lodge and opened the gate.

Entrance to the graves

Prior to the start of the attack, Oishi emphasized to his men that their target was Lord Kira:  women, children, and non-combatants were to be spared.  He also sent messengers to Kira's neighbors, notifying them of the attack and that they were in no danger.  And at the formal initiation of the attack, one of the 47 Ronin climbed to the roof and announced the attack to the neighborhood and that this was an act of revenge.

Tomb of Oishi Kuranosuke

The attack went on through the night.  The 47 stormed the house and began searching for Kira.  Kira's retainers, when they realized they were losing, attempted to go for aid but were cut down by Oshi's bowmen stationed on the walls.  16 retainers were killed and 22 injured, but Kira could not be found.

Graves of The 47 Ronin

Finally, in a shed for storing charcoal and firewood, a man was found.  Refusing to give his name, he was examined.  His head bore a scar, put there by the sword of Asano.  Lord Kira had been found.

Graves of The 47 Ronin

Oishi addressed Kira as a retainer would based on Kira's rank, explaining why they had come and offering Kira the chance to commit seppuku and retain his honor; Oishi would act as his kaishakuin (second) and behead him to prevent suffering.  Kira was shaken and trembling; finally, seeing there was no change, Oishi cut off Kira's head with a dagger.  

Extinguishing all lamps to prevent any risk of fire, The 47 Ronin sent one man, Terasaka Kiechiemon, to the Asano domain to announce the deed.  The now 46 Ronin began a walking retreat to Sengaku-ji, a temple favored by the Asano's.  The story spread quickly and as they marched along, they were feted and offered refreshments by passers-by.

Grave of Oishi Chikara, Oishi Kuranosuke's son

Upon arriving at Sengaku-ji, they washed Kira's head in a nearby well and presented it and the dagger that had cut it off on the grave of Lord Asano.  Praying at the temple and giving their remaining funds to the Abbott, they surrendered to the Shogunal authorities.

Graves of The 47 Ronin

The Shogunal government was in a bit of a pickle.  Lord Kira was not a popular man, and at the time the decision against Lord Asano had been wildly unpopular.  Also, The 47 Ronin had demonstrated a retainer's loyalty to one's lord, something that the Shogunal government was effectively built on.  To decry that would be to decry the very existence of the Shogunate. 

At the same time, the government could not support acts of revenge like this - there was a process for seeking revenge, but it was a defined process and included a formal declaration of the act of seeking revenge.  The 47 Ronin had done none of this.

Grave of Horibe Yahyoe.  Oldest of The 47 Ronin, he was 77 at the time of The Ako Incident

The government came to the following decision:  The 46 Ronin, who had been placed in the custody of four daimyo, were to commit seppuku, allowing them to die as warriors and retain their honor.  No revenge could be sought by Kira's family.  The matter was closed.

The Ronin had always planned this as a possible outcome.  And so, on 20 March 1703, the 46 committed seppuku.  Their remains, along with the remains of Lord Asano and his wife Yozen-in (Buddhist name), were buried at Sengaku-ji.

Overlooking the graves, with Oishi Kuranosuke's in the background

One may note only 46 died.  The 47th, Terasaka Kiechiemon, who had been sent to the Asano domain to declare the revenge, was pardoned by the Shogunate.  Accounts vary of why he was pardoned: some say it was because of his youth, others that it was "plot" by Oishi and the others by clearly stating he as not part of the action to allow his survival.  He lived until 1747 and died at the age of 87, when he was then buried with his comrades.

Another odd note:  There are 48 graves for the Ronin present.  Added in their number is Kayano Shigezane, a retainer who was forced to commit seppuku when a family member disapproved of his taking part in the act.

A final note:  The Asano were restored to their status, but not as the Lords of Ako domain.

A festival for The 47 Ronin is celebrated at the temple on 14 December.

Entrance to the graves, with Oishi Chikara's in the background

One climbs the stairs above, where a monk and/or a volunteer will take 300 Yen and offer you lighted incense sticks, which are placed on the stone alters in front of each grave.

This was my second time in Sengaku-ji.  It is a humbling and haunting experience.

Head Washing Well - The well where the head of Kira was washed before being presented on the tomb of Lord Asano.

Further information:  If one wants to learn more, the Wikipedia link above is a great start.  Do not - and I mean DO NOT - by any means watch the more recent movie starring Keanu Reeves (whom otherwise I enjoy as an actor) - it has almost nothing to do with the actual story except there may be a revenge and 47 Ronin may be involved.  If you have a long period of time, there was a 1941 movie produced which, while not having the fighting, is probably more true to the actual events (located at archive.org). There have been more recent (1950's to 1970's) adaptations.  Perhaps unsurprisingly, it instantly became a classic in the samurai culture and remains so to this day.

For written works, I cannot recommend highly enough Donald Keene's translation of  Kandehon Chushingura (more colloquially known as "The Chushingura)".  Originally developed as a bunraku (puppet play), it had to recast the events to an earlier period due to Shogunal censorship but retains the spirit of the events (especially Oishi's deception).

The 47 Roinin (Source)

The 47 Ronin on their way to Sengaku-ji, stopped by locals for refreshment (Source)

Hammerfall 3.0: A Job Offer

 (We interrupt the normally planned Thursday post for a special job-related announcement.  Seneca has been notified of this change and approves this message.)

I have a job offer.

It is for one of the two jobs that I was interviewing for - the lower level position.  The pay is at the lower end of what I had requested, but there are a few things that still make this a better deal:

1)  They genuinely seem to want me and took the trouble to let me know they are aware of the level versus experience discrepancy.

2)  This is for a reputable large company that has a great deal of opportunity.

3)  The relocation package, as I had mentioned, is spectacular.

4)  The benefits package is also spectacular.

5)  As a lower level position, I can look forward to being an individual contributor. I have not be an individual contributor in Quality in 25 years.  The ability to focus on my work is welcome.

The start date is the middle March, assuming all goes well with the background check.

So a confused lot of activity in the meantime.  Sadly, Produce (A)Isle will have to be left.  My iaijutsu training will go on a short hiatus (although I am informed there is a dojo of my style in the new location).  My time at the rabbit shelter will also be on hiatus, until I join another one (there are three where I am going).

Oh.  And moving myself, deciding when The Ravishing Mrs. TB can or should join me, deciding what to do with the house, finding a living location, and getting our belongings moved.

And, of course,  figuring out what the name of the new location shall be (as I did not have enough foresight to realize that "New Home" might have to be more than one).

Of note, I was notified of the offer the past Tuesday, precisely 70 days or 10 weeks from the notification of my layoff.  In terms of the current market, that appears to be the equivalent of Warp Factor 7 (in the Original Star Trek of course, the speed where everything fails).  I remain the only one from the recent downsizing I know of to have secured a position.

It is a bit terrifying to think I will have to essentially uproot my life and restart it in my mid-50's, but there is some exhilaration as well in the opportunity to get a fresh crack at so many things.  Also, it is nice to start out on the foot that the company real wants you.

As ever, thanks for all of your prayers and well wishes during this time.  If would not be too much difficulty, I will need to ask you for them again as we get this all sorted out and start moving towards a new adventure.

I remain your most Obedient Servant,

Toirdhealbheach Beucail

Training 2024: Yasukuni Shrine

 Yasukuni Jinja ("Peaceful Country Shrine", located in Tokyo) is a Shinto Shrine created by the Meiji Emperor in 1869 to commemorate the spirits of those who died for the restoration of the Imperial Monarchy.  Since that time, it was expanded to include all who died in the service of Japan, which includes the Boshin War (1868-1869), the Sino-Japanese Wars (both 1894-1895 and 1947-1945), and the first Indochina War (1946-1954).  Over those years, it has been expanded to include all conflicts during the Meiji, Taisho, and early Showa reign (1868 to 1945), Koreans and Taiwanese killed in the service of Japan, and all those killed by World War II, regardless of nationality.  This includes Class A war criminals, which has lead to no Japanese Emperor attending the shrine since the 1970's.  

(Note:  Sakamoto Ryoma, a personal hero of the Bakamatsu period, is enshrined there.)

The first torii, the traditional Japanese gateway indicating the entrance into a holy precinct:

Statue of Omura Masujiro, founder of the Imperial Japanese Army (died 1869 by assassination):

A view towards another torii and the Outer Shrine:

Stone lantern:

The Outer Shrine, where anyone can visit.  Beyond this is the Inner Shrine and the area housing the kami (we went into it in 2020 as part of our demonstration):

Buttressed tree:

Area of the Outer Shrine:

As part of a display, each province of Japan contributed an artistic cherry blossom (sakura), which was to somehow represent that province:

Statue of War Widow with Children:  Donated in 1974, it was set in place to honor widows who raised their children after the War.