Haiku

a crane takes wing
to mend a flaw
in the sky

(tsuru tateri ten no kizu woba tsukurou to)

Einstein's Century, Akiko Arima's Haiku
Brook Books, Decatur, Illinois 2000

For the pocket: Casio EX-S600

In Tokyo I thought about buying a "proper" camera, something like a Canon EOS, but I knew I would never carry it, and would be seduced by the need to add lenses, and all the other bits and pieces. I should learn to walk first! A good salesman at Yodobashi in Shinjuku did the deal. The best selling compact cameras were an Olympus and this Casio, not a name I associate with cameras. The Olympus was marginally bigger, 7 Million pixels: the Casio was slimmer, 6 Million pixels, and importantly for me, takes standard memory expansion cards. Proprietary formats make no sense. The Casio slips in my pocket and I find I take it everywhere. A Flickr account, and I am set up for those first few weeks in Singapore, now very close!

A small station can have great charm, and many have brickwork worthy of a small monograph. Staring at a much drilled and battered forgotten wall in Stafford conjures a vision of a skilled bricklayer, Woodbine hanging from the lip, shaping a brick with a few taps of the trowel. Custom shapes, unusual colours, glazes, intricate patterns. Poulton-le-Fylde on the edge of Blackpool, is such a station with a fine clock, old semaphore signals actuated by rods and pulleys, and unusually long, disused platforms suggesting the long steam-hauled trains bringing the huge crowds to Blackpool for Wakes weeks and Glasgow weekends. It's a classic station with its brickwork and a fine display of tulips a few weeks back. Excellent work from someone.

It makes a difference.

To those who move

Everyone seems to be moving, MovingMountain and Crabby Old Lady (a misnomer if ever there was one), and no doubt others. At the end of this month I will go to Singapore, and I am ridding myself of some of the clutter that an ageing recluse accumulates! Yes, it offers an opportunity for a new start, but equally I feel that to go overboard, is also not fully responsible behaviour. I don't think this is attachment, just a recognition that some structure is necessary if I am to remain mentally healthy.

I have tried to dispose of things thoughtfully, donating where possible, but I have had to recognise that, functional or wearable as some things may be, no-one wants them, nor do I have the time to place them. That we are a "consuming" society has been driven home by my visits to the local recycling centre. A whole skip devoted to computers, monitors and peripherals, skips full of bicycles, wood, clothes, shoes. Not too long ago, most would have been landfill, so I suppose this is "progress", but you can't help but feel, much could be re-used. But, you just have to do what you have to do, and move on.


My tutor at University (the late "GF") was an alpinist and skilled photographer (the first Hasselblad I saw). He told how in the Himalaya, the expedition's opened tins, were sought by local people as containers for water or storage. I have never forgotten that lesson.

As always, I shall travel with hand-luggage only, and take it a day at a time.

I offer a stick of incense from Sanzen-ji to those moving, and those remaining.

Japanese theatre

Traditional Japanese Theatre is remarkable, and would become an addiction if I lived there. I am not knowledgeable, but a recent post from Moving Mountain soliciting information about a carved figure, sent me looking through what I had. My main text is "Traditional Japanese Theater: an Anthology of Plays" edited by Karen Brazell (Columbia University Press, 1998). The statue that Moving Mountain shows has wild hair, and if you look closely, long braids on either side of the (fearsome) face. The stance is solid, perhaps seated. At first I thought it was a Thunder God (an example is the first picture above). But the figurine did not have any headgear. The lower picture is of the Shite from the Noh play Yamamba (a demon play, attributed to Zeami). No headgear, and the Shite is seated (on a round lacquer box): the stance is very similar to the carved figure. As an aside, the gesture with the closed fan emphasises that grace descends "even to the center of the earth" (Brazell, p.221).
I don't think these necessarily provide the answer, and Johnny Newt's comment is likely correct, but I am grateful for the excuse to revisit something I love!