70 Cents of Bliss!

This has been quite a week. Leaving for Singapore's Changi last week on a 22:25 flight from Heathrow, I wondered what I was doing. One week on I still wonder when I wake up at odd hours, but the week has gone very well. The first apartment is back on the agenda again, and will now be painted and cleaned up this week. Servicing the air-conditioning every four months is one of the conditions of tenancy – step outside and you know why. I move in next weekend.

This weekend I caught up on some sleep, and wandered about a bit. Inevitably I was drawn to the electronics quarter, Sim Lim Square, but escaped relatively unscathed, just a cheap headset to use with Google Talk and a replacement disc drive for my laptop as the existing drive is "ticking" loudly as the heads park. The toys get more exotic as you go upwards, regular stuff on the ground floor, spy cameras and hidden microphones higher up, until at the top, the PC graveyard and everything you might want customised! Repairs, over-clocked PCs - water cooled with glowing cases, 19"-racked blade-servers, build-to-order, you name it, they do it. People cradling their dead PC cases waiting to see the doctor - there must be a place for that in the UK.

From there to Little India. In the Tekka Centre market wandering with the very colorful crowds amongst the food vendors, I discovered Ginger Tea. If I have an award for the week, it must be that, Ginger Tea - and only 70 cents. I thought I had mis-heard!! Nothing in this world is 70 cents. Now I can die!

And the flowers!

I do believe Singapore might get under my skin!

Bad for your health?

I read the FT, not because I have money and need to know about "hedge funds" and off-shore "instruments", but because I find the cynicism of much of the "red-top" and broadsheet press cruel and destructive, inflammatory comment rather than serious analysis. Most people remain, in my experience, decent and generous, as they always have been, yet journalists would have it otherwise. From supposedly sinister criminal immigrants carelessly released from prison, to knife-toting lads on every corner, you yearn for a sense of perspective. Some calm remains - Polly Toynbee is always worth reading: her article in today's Guradian on-line deals with this very issue. Simon Hoggart, Polly Toynbee and "The Northerner", are all I can read in the Guardian these days.

The FT here has, as you might expect, an Asian slant - and the weather map looks unfamiliar. It's also $3.50! I take it with my morning doppio macchiato as the world streams by. Then I join it.

Wednesday, I think.

They don't hang around here! Work permit collected, bank account opened, metro-card bought and loaded, twelve apartments visited, one selected, lease being drawn-up, two candidates interviewed for my new team. I think it is only Wednesday! The jet-lag is fading and I feel almost human today. A vegetarian Indian restaurant is nearby which I suspect will become a regular haunt. Hot and humid, what did I expect!

Update: took another look at the apartment before signing, and noticed a lot that would need attention. Decided to hold off, and revisit some, now having a better idea of what to look for.

Where did the day go?

Left at dusk, arrived at dusk. Likely to be a busy week.

Airport Training

Airports are good places for training and trying to hold on to that still centre. Indeed you have little choice. I have never enjoyed the departure process, and the thought of the future Airbus 380 with two decks fills me with dread. As Singapore Airlines takes delivery later this year, it is possible that I will put this foreboding to the test. Everything about airports seems designed to induce stress, an extreme version of a consumer culture distilled into a small space, devoid of anything calming and natural. Amsterdam's Schiphol has a meditation centre, and I'm sure many would welcome similar quiet oases, no talking, no mobile phones, peaceful lighting, calm. A friend used to find obscure stair wells in distant parts of the airport, and sit on the steps, but these days you are as likely to be cautioned or worse. So, I will make my own calmness.

It has been a graceful ending to the week, most things "resolved" (fine word). What isn't can wait. Bag packed, checked-in on-line, laptop backed-up, keys disbursed, taxi ordered.

Many small things have helped this journey, most unremarked. That includes several blogs whose authors have a lightness of touch I have yet to achieve. "Teaching without teaching". I thank you all.

If there are mountains, I look at mountains;
On rainy days I listen to the rain.
Spring, summer, autumn, winter.
Tomorrow too will be good.
Tonight too is good.

Yama areba yama o miru
ame no hi ame o kiku
haru natsu aki fuyu
ashita mo yoroshi
yūbe mo yoroshi

From "Mountain Tasting" Haiku by Santoka Taneda, translated by John Stevens, Weatherhill

Almost done!

Hopefully the last trip to the recycling centre today. Running down the food, cut back sharply on caffeine. Leaving Saturday night, arriving 24 hrs later. Start Monday 08:30!
Not much time for posting, but I noticed the following in yesterday's FT.

"The two companies fined a record £13.5m for safety breaches in the fatal Hatfield rail crash have received £21m from the government to cover legal costs".

The figures were released under the relatively new Freedom of Information Act that we now have in the UK.

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!

Vienna

I'm rediscovering Mahler after 30 years. I had everything on LP, but now must move a CD collection to iPod, or maybe to my Linux laptop in ogg format (arguably better). My choice is Claudio Abbado (Nos. 1, 3, 6, 9) Riccardo Chailly (No. 8), John Barbirolli (No. 5), Simon Rattle (Nos. 2, 10), Leonard Bernstein (No. 7) and Jascha Horenstein (No. 4).
There was something in the ritual of carefully cleaning the LP and lowering the delicately balanced stylus that set the scene for attentive listening, but my student flat could not cope with the enormous dynamic range of a Mahler symphony: constantly adjusting the volume did not make for attentive listening. Now headphones allow that concentration, but deafness and tinnitus are my new companions. No time to waste.
I was in Vienna last weekend to see a colleague, so had a coffee by the opera house. The apocalyptic horseman is on the roof of the Court Opera House. In the nearby bookshop, I bought the Blaukopf's book, "Mahler, his Life, Work & World", based on contemporary quotations from letters and newspaper reviews. I sat in the early morning sun, shut out the tour buses and drifted back 100 years to hear the horse-drawn trams on the Ringstrasse.

I am mindful that I have already had eight more years of life than Mahler was granted.

Financial services

I've never understood the financial sector and their increasingly byzantine trades. Somehow I stubbornly believe that society's wealth must ultimately rest on people making things. Of course a healthy financial system is necessary to facilitate this, but to this layman, the financial sector seems more and more to exist for itself. The FT comments (27 April 2006):

"By facilitating economic expansion, the financial system plays its part in raising living standards. For these functions the banks have always taken their cut. However this has increased dramatically in recent decades. US financial companies earned 10-15 per cent of total US corporate profits in the 1950s and 1960s, but now account for 30-40 percent of the total."
"This trend for finance to grow much faster than the "real" economy is also apparent in the UK and elsewhere. In return for absorbing a rising share of society's resources, especially highly qualified workers, what is being delivered in return?"

Good question.

To Kiyomizu-dera

The approach to Kiyomizu-dera: Ninnen-zaka and Sannen-zaka. Steep alleys, relaxed crowds, tourist shops. So far, no Starbucks.


A donation elicits a ring of the bell, or a bang of the staff on the ground, and an invocation. A Japanese friend suggested the monks may not always be genuine, if that's the word, but I've no reason to believe otherwise.



Maiko, I assume.

Reith Lectures 2006

Daniel Barenboim "In the Beginning was Sound". The first two lectures are available on-line, the rest to follow. Recommended. In the same vein, the book, "Who Needs Classical Music? Cultural Choice and Musical Value" by Julian Johnson, Oxford University Press, 2002.
Barenboim recounts hearing Brahms' Violin Concerto in a hotel lift, and having to conduct the work that same evening.

Incidentally, noise pollution is rife in Japan, though the lifts are mercifully silent.

Cherry blossom

The crow too was enjoying the blossom on this venerable, pruned tree in Maruyama-kōen, and sharing her pleasure with the hundreds of humans below.



"Poetry meetings were often held outside under blossoming cherry trees. Their organizers were often Amidist hermits from Ippen's Ji sect – or sometimes monks of the Ritsu sect – who invoked the souls of the departed. The canopy of the weeping cherry tree, like the oiled parasol of the reciter of the Heike, defined a space of shadow, midway between this world and the next. After the invocations, the participants wrote renga poems. Each in turn composed a verse on a given theme, which was continued by the next in line until all present had made up a verse. The quality of the poem reflected the degree of the participants' closeness. Anyone could come to these renga sessions 'under the blossoms'. Attendees had to hide their identities under loose-fitting clothes and broad-brimmed rice-straw hats that covered their faces. In the complete anonymity that guaranteed equality to each, everyone participated in the collective creation of a poem in the shadow of a tree, a space made sacred for a time by the invocation of the dead and the implicit agreement of the participants. Thus because renga meetings eliminated both status and sex barriers, a highly placed court noble or lady could draw pleasure from these meetings side by side with the lowest hinin."

From – "The World Turned Upside Down: Medieval Japanese Society", Pierre François Souyri, trans. by Kathe Roth, Columbia University Press, 2001




Well, maybe not much renga this year, but everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. It was good to be part of it.

Offering merit — 2

Above the main temple complex at Sanzen-in were some new buildings. Nearby were a series of stands which appear to be memorials to those who have died, and whose relatives wish to remember them and offer merit.



Recently we lost a member of our family, and such a way of remembrance matched a need I feel. Maybe there are similar ways here? So many boddhisatvas.

Offering merit — 1

Hidden on the British Library website is the opportunity to sponsor the preservation and digitisation of a sutra, or sutra fragment, from the Dunhuang collection, a collection of Buddhist manuscripts dating from 100BC to 1200AD, miraculously preserved in a sealed cave at Dunhuang on the Silk Road before their discovery in the late 19th Century. One might see such sponsorship as the equivalent of the former practice of paying a monk to transcribe a sutra to incur merit for others, particulary one's family.

Television Licence

I don't have a television. The TV Licensing authority, a uniquely British entity, writes to me:

"Thank you for informing us recently that you do not require a TV Licence.
Our experience has shown that a small but significant minority of people who tell us that they do not need a TV Licence, are found to require one when visited. We therefore need to verify the position for all households who inform us that they do not have a television, as a standard procedure."

Next time, I'll save the price of the stamp.

Nenju (念珠)

I bought a set of prayer beads, nenju (念珠) in Kyoto, to mark the move to Singapore (now put back to 1st June). It was a traditional shop, sliding door to enter, raised tatami platform to work, Japanese only, intimidating to this gaijin. Founded in the Edo period, the shop's current owner was the 12th generation. I selected a 108 bead nenju, made from sandlewood. A momentary fright when 1 million Yen was mentioned, but that was an error! The Japanese counting system has a "unit" at 10,000 (ichiman), which is where the confusion arose! Phew!

Later I began to think about the netsu's construction. I gathered some information from a website, but advice from a user, lay or monastic, would be welcome. It could be that I have a formal Nichiren rosary, but that does not concern me. First, I believe the beads are used as shown, over the left hand, joined in prayer. The counting requires care, as there is no change in colour, just a slightly smaller bead. One of the "leader" 2 x 5 bead strings has an extra bead (seen on the inner loop above). I take this to be the start. Then counting from the large bead (as 0), there is a smaller bead at position 8 and at position 23. It is the same counting the other way, 8 and 23, ie symmetrical.

It would be good to take it to a temple before leaving.

Change

Kyoto changes: Pachinko and Starbucks.

I think on what the architect Kisho Kurokawa says:

"The West seeks to hand down the actual physical original, while Japan hands down the ideas, aesthetic sensibility, spirit, and technique behind the physical work, according superior importance to the invisible tradition and making every effort to keep it alive. This Japanese attitude helps explain why we have been so quick to destroy elements of our built heritage and replace them with new structures. Of course, we Japanese need to reconsider this tendency, but on the other hand, the importance our culture places on the invisible creates significant opportunities for the transmission of traditional culture to contemporary lifestyle and architecture.

Much of what is most distinctively Japanese belongs to the categories of thought, philosophy, religion, manners, and sensibility. This forms an invisible spiritual tradition: the aesthetic of using materials in their natural state; minute attention to detail; the Buddhist idea that all living things possess the Buddha nature; the philosophy of Consciousness-Only, which resolves opposites in symbiotic relationships; a view of architecture and human beings as parts of the natural world; a curiosity that encourages the adoption of foreign cultures and new technologies; a concept of space as multivalent and ambivalent; a style of communication that values emotion as well as reason; and a high regard for intermediary zones and ambiguity."

Kisho Kurokawa "Each One a Hero: The Philosophy of Symbiosis" Kodansha International. 1997. Also available on his website.

Ginkaku-ji (銀閣寺)

Kyoto is always memorable whatever the season: the new continues to displace the old — my old haunt Maruzen has closed and the inexorable spread of Starbucks and Pachinko continues apace. But there are still sufficient traditional narrow streets to imagine the past, and the temples remain. All changes. The timing of the trip was perfect for cherry blossom, and the city was full. Despite the crowds, the atmosphere was very relaxed.
Reverend Master Mugo wryly observed that on her SE-Asian trip she would arrive the day after a festival. I had better luck. The birthday of the Buddha is observed on April 8th and with thousands of others we poured tea over the Buddha's head in Ginkaku-ji (The Silver Temple) in Higashiyama and then slowly walked along the philosopher's way (tetsugaku-no-michi) down to Nanzen-ji, stopping at Hōnen-in (and the nearby burial ground), and the Nomura museum on the way.

If you are in Kyoto, give Starbucks a miss: Inoda is the place for coffee.

Sanzen-in (三千院)

Ōhara, in the mountains to the north of Kyoto, is home to a cluster of temples, the most famous of which may be Sanzen-in (三千院). Founded in 784 by the monk Saichō (最澄), it is of the Tendai sect, and must rank as one of the most beautiful temples in Japan. Arriving early, the peacefulness of its famous gardens was overwhelming. Rain clouds were drifting through the forested hilltops, and a passing heavy shower just enhanced the colours, especially of the moss. The tiny supplicant I photographed in the moss simply filled me with great calm. A truly numinous place.


The Ojo-gokuraku Hall houses a trinity of Amidha Buddha flanked by Kannon and Seishi statues. Photography is not allowed, so I offer a scanned postcard.

The monk in attendance was pointing out traces of original coloring in the roof timbers, but my Japanese was not up to following him. The roof looked decidedly blackened, a reminder perhaps of the ever present risk of fire, hopefully lessened these days.

I think Wittgenstein had it (in another context): "Wovon man nicht sprechen kann, darüber muß man schweigen" — whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must remain silent.

To Japan

April 8th is taken as the Buddha's birthday. I will be in Kyoto, and offer for the journey and for my friends a haiku from this two volume scholarly work, privately published by Toshiharu Oseko.

On Buddha's birthday
Praying with wrinkled hands
The sound of rosaries

Kambutsu ya
shiwade awasura
juzu no oto

"Time: what one reads off clocks".

A good example of book design is this slim volume, beautifully laid out in small format, and perfect for the pocket when travelling. And the content is as good as the cover promises!
In 1905 the young Albert Einstein, an unknown patent clerk in Basle, published five extraordinary papers in rapid succession in Annalen der Physik. The fourth paper, on the 'Electrodynamics of Moving Bodies' ('Zur Elektrodynamik bewegter Körper') laid the foundation for Special Relativity.
The implications of science can never be completely foreseen. Special relativity predicts that a clock on a satellite such as used for global positioning will run ahead of the same clock on earth. Such is the accuracy of a modern atomic clock that these tiny differences can be precisely measured. If uncorrected, over six hours the difference would amount to five millionths of a second!
A tiny difference that translates to a positioning error of one kilometre, making all satellite navigation systems useless.

'Time: what one reads of clocks'. Subtle.

Special Relativity by Domenico Giulini, Oxford University Press, 2005

Too few science graduates?

From the Financial Times of March 15th and 16th 2006.

CBI warns of drop in science graduates.

John Cridland, deputy director-general of the CBI says,

"We're going to wake up one morning and find that it's overseas countries that have this very important cluster of science and engineering skills and we don't. The decline in science study isn't yet a crisis but it will haunt us unless we address it now".

But,

"Alan Johnson, the trade and industry secretary is due to highlight an increase of about 750,000 in the number of people of working age with science, technology and engineering degrees, compared with 1997".

So whom do we believe?

"But the CBI has strongly questioned the validity of government statistics, accusing ministers of 'propping up' the numbers by including psychology. While the government claims the number of biological science graduates has increased by 109 per cent in the decade to 2004-05, the increase is only 7 per cent if psychology degrees are excluded, the CBI analysis shows. The number graduating in chemistry fell by 18 per cent and physics by 7 per cent over the same period".

Then, the DTI said,

Graduate infusion for biomedical science.

"DTI quoted statistsics from the Higher Education Statistics Agency to show an overall increase in first degrees in science, engineering and technology from 87,435 in 1995 to 124,860 in 2004. But there were big differences between subjects. Biological sciences rose from 12,380 to 25,955 graduates and computer science from 8,275 to 20,205 over the nine years. Physical sciences fell from 13,440 to 11,995 and engineering and technology from 22,085 to 19,780".

"Lord Rees, President of the Royal Society, who hosted the meeting, was less impressed than his ministerial guest by the progress made so far".

The last word.

"Goldman Sachs in record form as earnings rise 64%", where average pay amongst its 23,600 staff is put at $900,000.

and

"40 per cent of A-level chemistry is taught by non-chemists".

No comment.

Old Friends

Some books become old friends: two are here. The first friend is Alan Watts classic "The Way of Zen". I have had this book 40 years, as the pre-decimal price in the top right corner will attest! A good introduction to Buddhism, not just Zen. Audio versions of some of his talks are available.

Robert Pirsig's "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" was the subject of a recent post by MovingMountain. Despite the title, the book is not explicitly about Zen. I have read the book several times over the years, each time taking something different from it. It is not an easy book, and indeed there is even a book about the book, co-authored by a Jesuit priest no less! But as soon as I read about the shim made from the alloy beer can I knew we were speaking the same language. To this day, I pause when something goes wrong and build up some "gumption" before proceeding. We all know rounded nuts or stripped threads, but there have been several occasions where a pause and a brew has averted disaster. Of course, Phaedrus has more important things to say, not least about Quality.
I have also Pirsig's "Lila, an Inquiry into Morals". That may be his entire output, before he went to Sweden and sailed his boat. A wise man.

I can't imagine anything on my computer being around in 40 years!

The Quiet Art

David Weatherall's book, 'Science and the Quiet Art', is subtitled 'Medical Research & Patient Care'. The cover of the book is of 'The Doctor' by Sir Luke Fildes. Fildes was born in 1843 in Liverpool, and was brought up by his grandmother Mary Fildes, a political activist. He trained at the Warrington School of Art, going on to become the most successful and well-paid portait painter of his day. 'The Doctor' was a £3000 commission from Henry Tate which, although he grumbled about the fee, prompted Fildes to paint more on social matters. The painting is in Tate Britain.

I've been thinking about the 'Quiet Art' as I prepare a talk. I am loosely involved in what has become known as 'molecular medicine'. There is strength to this reductionist approach, indeed most drug discovery proceeds in this way, but there is a risk of hubris: the notion that disease is an undesirable state and the state should be 'fixed' seems too simple, and 'Western' if I may put it that way. You see it in corporate advertising ('Disease has no greater enemy'), and in the press ('fighting disease'). Yet we spend little on palliative care, and in today's FT I read that the UK has over 100 unfilled vacancies for palliative care consultants. Perhaps the work is unattractive, but the end of life is surely as important as the beginning.

There is only so much you can see in a scanned image, so last week I went to the Tate to see it. I had not noticed the child's parents in the pale dawn light from the window, the man with his hand on his the shoulder of his exhausted wife. The first Noble Truth.

It is said that doctors like this picture, and I can why. The seated doctor lit by the shaded lamp could probably do little but give witness to the pain and suffering and see the night through with them. The pale dawn suggests that the child might have made it through the worst.

So, I work on the talk, trying to suggest the 'Quiet Art' is more than molecular medicine. We are more than cellular machines to be "fixed" when broken.

Today was my 59th birthday and so I am perhaps mindful of these things.

To be resumed

More drafts than posts at the moment.
Listening to Bach, Sonatas and Partitas for Violin Solo, Gidon Kremer, ECM New Series, found yesterday in Heffers, Cambridge. Ah, serendipity!

An English Obsession

Nowhere else have I encountered the English obsession with house prices, fanned by a barely numerate press. The 'average' price of a home in the UK is now £200,000, which begs the question how teachers, nurses and other essential and poorly paid workers live, especially in the capital. What prompts this on-going irritation is comment in today's Guardian that Bank of England interest rates remain unchanged at 4.5% for the seventh month running. Fine, but then the gloss:
"The service sector expanded at its strongest pace in nearly two years in February, a recent survey showed, while the Halifax house price index jumped 1.4% last month, pointing to a revival in prices."
Leaving aside how you can have a "revival in prices", the change of 1.4% is based on "soft" criteria, and certainly has substantial error margins: it is not a precise measurement. It could be 0% it could be 2%: the permitted range will be known. To thus say the index "jumped" is, to be polite, imaginative and manipulative. I doubt the journalist would see a salary change of 1.4% as a "jump".
We get the same nonsense in reporting government targets, be it for schools, hospitals, reportable crime — the same belief that the numbers are precise. A change of 0.4% in examination pass-rates becomes an inprovement, a change of -0.4% failure.
Time to grow up.

Gambling with the Planet

Today's image from Mars (where two robot vehicles, designed for a mission of 90 days, have been exploring the surface for the past two years). You can see the tracks as one of the robots, Spirit, goes uphill again. The pictures are returned via one of two satellites orbiting Mars. I am always amazed that these raw data are available for anyone who cares to look. Not all agencies are so far-sighted! Clever stuff, and a glowing testimony to a team that manages this project far from the public eye.

But, this is not my purpose. Today I chanced on an article on climate change that stuck in my mind. Perhaps we are dealing with a "switch" not a "dial". We act as if our impact on the planet is a "dial" we can turn back, if not today, then tomorrow, or when "big oil" allows us. But maybe the switch has been thrown, and we are headed for conditions you see here.

A 60th anniversary

Sixty years ago my parents were married: this is the only picture I have seen that records the day. My mother is Flemish, from the villages around Ieper, unmemorable but for the carnage of the first world war. My father met her at the end of another war, not uncommon for the time, I imagine. Less common perhaps, they were married in Belgium, having but few words to share, and not, I suspect, having the full blessing of her family. Then my father returned home to England and my mother followed later. Both no doubt had expectations that came crashing up against rationing and reality. Those early years were hard for both: for my mother loneliness, a new country, a language to learn, a new child (me), and money tight, and for my dad, sudden unwelcome responsibility for a young man, robbed of his youth by a war. But "human resilience" kicks in, neighbours were good in practical ways, and 60 years on, the evidence is there for me to see. Your Flemish may be limited, your French and German gone, but you beat my dad at scrabble most nights, so I guess you learnt enough English!
Enjoy your day in peace.

"Yet do thy worst, old Time: despite thy wrong,
My love shall in my verse ever live young."

Shakespeare, Sonnet 19, closing lines

Mikaeri Amida (見返り阿弥陀)

Mikaeri Amida (見返り阿弥陀) is one of the treasures of Eikandō (永観堂) or Zenrinji (禅林寺) in Kyoto. Why the head was positioned in this way derives either from the imaginative story about the Buddhist monk Eikan, or as practical solution to a problem in casting bronze. The story goes that Eikan (永観) was reciting the nembutsu (念仏), moving around on a freezing winter morning, when the statue stepped down, and led the way. Astonished, Eikan stopped, only to be chided by the Mikaeri Amida. Other variants echo this theme - "hey, why have you stopped, Eikan?". The mudras are not clear from this image, the remaining gilding suggesting both hands raised. In fact the right hand is raised in the Abhaya-mudra; "do not fear", and the left hand in the descending Varada-mudra; "bestowal".

The temple dates back to the 9th Century, the current abbot, Ogiso Zenryu, being the 89th in succession. It is the head temple of Jodo-shu Seizan Zenrin-ji sect. The grounds are particularly beautiful in spring and autumn, with cherry and maple respectively. See for example, an autumn "light-up" of the maples, and a "four seasons" view.

I can't make up my mind about the statue, it doesn't quite work for me as art, which, I confess, is how I see much Buddhist iconography. That may not exclude the numinous, but sometimes does. Another koan for me. Likewise the blue carpet.

Sign of Age.

You know you are getting old when you are irritated by letters from "Nick" at the bank. In Germany, you would scrupulously observe the "du" and "Sie" forms of "you". Never, I was taught, move from "Sie" to "du" without explicit permission — it could take many years, and might never happen. I still sign "yours faithfully".

So, while being the grumpy old man, I would add:

• Chewing gum. (A research topic: plot the abundance with distance from an exit of Oxford Road tube station - not exponential, but a power law I suspect). The plaza of the British Library resists heroically!
  
• Feet on seats. Default behaviour if you are under 30. Place the sole on the edge to effect maximum transfer of dirt.
  
• Street sweeping behemoths, shimmering with exhaust heat, usually on crowded pavements. Totally disproportionate solution to a problem.
• Gas heating outdoors on pavement cafés and in pub gardens. Literally burning money, even if you don't believe in global warming.

It arises, I let it go — most some times!

Fuji-san

Mount Fuji from the Tokaido shinkansen in late December 2002. December is a good time to be in Japan (at least on Honshu), the days are clear and the weather still pleasant. Sometimes the clouds hide Fuji-san, so on a good day it's always a pleasure to see it come into view. A thin plume of snow can be seen blowing from the edge of the summit at 3776 m. I'm told that you can drive much of the way up (to 2000 m), and the subsequent trail is well marked. Night climbs are popular, though my Japanese friends say, climb it once if you must, but never again. It last erupted in 1708.

A Luddite writes

Deep down I can't help feeling that computers should be used only for calculating, scientific number crunching if you will. One example might be the calculation of the latest Mersenne prime (2^30,402,457-1 ), another would be the application of Newtonian mechanics to put the Cassini spacecraft in orbit around Saturn after a 7 year voyage, and perform the intricate dance currently underway amongst the 34 moons. Of course, this Luddite view is not really tenable, but deep down I'm convinced that all other uses limit us as much as they empower us.

I am reminded of the "Electric Monk" in Douglas Adams' book "Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency" (Pan Macmillan, 1988):

"High on a rocky promontory sat an Electric Monk on a bored horse. From under its rough woven cowl the Monk gazed unblinkingly down into another valley, with which it was having a problem. The day was hot, the sun stood in an empty hazy sky and beat down upon the gray rocks and the scrubby, parched grass. Nothing moved, not even the Monk. The horse's tail moved a little, swishing slightly to try and move a little air, but that was all. Otherwise, nothing moved. The Electric Monk was a labour-saving device, like a dishwasher or a video recorder. Dishwashers washed tedious dishes for you, thus saving you the bother of washing them yourself, video recorders watched tedious television for you, thus saving you the bother of looking at it yourself; Electric Monks believed things for you, thus saving you what was becoming an increasingly onerous task, that of believing all the things the world expected you to believe."

In the very old days we occasionally read scientific papers carefully, it took a day or so, and notes were made to suit your style. Maybe a postcard to the author asking for a reprint, and usually we would receive it, often with some exotic stamps. Then we became busier, and so photocopied papers to pretend to read them later. Now we just download a pdf (a copy in effect), with some instantly forgetable file name, and scatter them over our laptops. If you are diligent, you place them in one folder, but read them? No time, too busy keeping up-to-date!

Now with wireless internet you can do this all the time, anywhere!

The Electric Monk is alive and well!

The turning of the wheel

Four years ago I visited a temple complex near the science city of Daedeok, Daejeon, South Korea. With that unnerving SE-Asian focus, there are said to be 18,000 researchers in the city, of whom 5,000 have doctorates. It was March, and the magnolias in the temple grounds were in full flower. Here, near London, they flower a few weeks earlier, and together with the plum blossom (ume) 李花 [りか], there are some fine old examples nearby. The days are lengthening, and while still cold, you know that you can make it to the spring. How more they must have welcomed those signs in earlier times.
I was reminded of this last week while visiting the Wellcome Trust Sanger Institute (WTSI) at Hinxton. Set in beautiful parkland, though the day was grey and snowdrops were carelessly everywhere, the crows were busy about noisy crow business in the tops of their trees. It was good to just be, everything was sufficient.
A gift accepted with bows.

Kūya Shōnin 空也上人

I had an earlier post on the 10th Century priest, Kūya, but this is a better image for detail. The full picture puts him in context as an itinerant monk. I recall that the small statue, at Rokuharamitsu-ji (六波羅蜜寺) in Kyoto, could not be easily photographed in this detail, so this is likely a professional photograph. He is chanting the nembutsu, the six small figures representing na mu a mi da butsu (南無阿弥陀仏). Perhaps the "Jesus prayer", "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me", often associated with the Orthodox faith, is a Western analogue. "For some there comes a time when the 'Jesus prayer' enters into the heart, so that it is no longer recited by a deliberate effort, but recites itself spontaneously, continuing even when a person talks or writes, present in his dreams, waking him up in the morning". (The Orthodox Church, Timothy Ware, Penguin books, 1963). He goes on, "Orthodox spiritual writers insist that those who use the Jesus prayer systematically, should, if possible, place themselves under the guidance of an experienced director, and do nothing on their own initiative".

I feel much the same about Ch'an or Zen: it is a hazardous path, once on it, you can't go back. We rely so much on those who have gone before.

(The image is from yowaiobake (in Japanese). The route there was via a blog search on Kyoto).

"Humanity to Others"

I'm prompted to mention Ubuntu which I use instead of Microsoft Windows, on both my laptop and desktop computer. It's not that I am messianic about Open Source over proprietary software, you can make your own decisions about that: it's more the underlying spirit (love) that underpins Ubuntu, and the sheer quality of the product. Being free, and well-supported by a very generous community, I wonder whether it might find wider use, in for example, monastic and similar communities. It works well on older computers. I run it on a second-hand IBM T22 Thinkpad.

"Ubuntu" is an ancient African word, meaning "humanity to others". Ubuntu also means "I am what I am because of who we all are". The Ubuntu Linux distribution brings the spirit of Ubuntu to the software world.

Why mention this at all? In the strange way that events unfold I was looking for something on the Ubuntu site, noticed and smiled at the "fridge". I noticed that they talk a lot about love, not a word you see often in the business world. Then I read a Moving Mountains post, and thought "this is all pointing the same way", something outside ourselves. To analyse more would be to lose it, but now it's as real as the keyboard before me.

Nine bows to you all for your wisdom!

Serendipity

For many years I had this picture in a clip-frame on my desk, culled I think from the Economist, but I cannot be sure of that. On one of my many moves it disappeared into a folder, but stayed somewhere in my head. I had no idea of its author.
Then by chance on Antipixel | Blog I found some beautiful pictures of recent snow around Marunouchi, Tokyo, an area I know, but have never seen in snow. They are really worth a look. One of the comments compared them to a famous picture by the Swiss photographer Werner Bischof. My unknown cutting is the famous "Shinto priests in the court of the Meiji temple, Tokyo 1951". I confess that I had never heard of him, but at the same time am pleased there is still so much to learn and enjoy - even at my age!
The cutting is just part of the original picture - but what a picture. I'm inspired to get a better camera. If I could acquire one tenth the skill of these people, I would be content.

(Postscript: Antipixel has also posted the Tokyo snow scenes to Flickr)

"Profit in the billions"

"Profits in the billions underline the vital role of banking in the economy". It should not surprise that this is a headline from today's Financial Times. It continues "This year the UK banking industry is set to break records again with profit of about £34bn – or more than the gross domestic product of Croatia. Next week, Barclays is expected to report pre-tax profit of £5.2bn and Lloyds TSB £3.35bn".

Gone are the days when a bank existed for its customers. Perhaps those days never existed. My parents, now in their 80's cannot deal with the terminals in their local branch, and while I can cope with that, other "progressive" features trouble me.

In January UK banks reduced interest rates to savers, driven not by a change in the base rate, but seemingly for no other reason than it was the begining of the year and, acting in concert, they could get away with it. To compound the insult, my bank wrote to me weeks later with a gloss that I am fortunate to have so many choices. Well, a choice is to change accounts, but to accomplish it is another matter!

On my secondary account I am locked out because I have not used it for some time, and despite a visit to a local branch with passport, statements, I remain locked out. Calling the help-line, I point out I have verified in person who I am and have the appropriate numbers, and politely observe that it is my money in the account. To no avail: a flag is set, and access cannot be granted.

While I can live with this delay, it brings home that banks can shut you out from your own money, and that our implicit trust in banks may be misplaced. The onus is on you to regain access. They are a business to make profit for their shareholders – that they have "high-street" customers is an anachronism they might like to be rid of. Perhaps our grandparents kept cash under the bed for good reason!

So, what do banks do with that hard-earned profit?

Hubris

On the train I listened to the valedictory address of Sir Robert May, the retiring President of The Royal Society (iPods have their uses). You have to remember that the Royal Society is an august body, not given to hyperbole, and that Sir Robert May served as the government chief scientist, and understands the political reality. So, his matter-of-fact presentation on global warming should alarm everyone. He uses the facts in an unusual and effective way, to spell out the damage done, and the risks we will pass to our children and grandchildren. They will surely curse our cupidity. The United States collected much opprobrium for refusing to sign the minimal Kyoto Protocol to reduce carbon dioxide emissions to their 1990 level by 2012, and for intransigence in Montreal last year. If we cannot reach such minimal targets what hope have we?

Each time I look at the images from the Mars Rovers Opportunity and Spirit (still going strong after two years), I think we are headed that way. A thin wind blowing dust around, no water, no life. Species become extinct, H. sapiens too.

The image is of a sunset on Mars from the Spirit Rover. I find it humbling, a sunset that no-one sees, save the cold CCD of a remote machine. Our strength and our weakness.

Hanko

Just for the record,

【烏】 [からす] (n) crow/raven/(P)
【旅烏】 [たびがらす] (n) wanderer/stranger

Hanko

As a parting gift I was given a "hanko" (判子), or more accurately (?) "inkan" (印鑑), the traditional seal that is still used, so I am told, for official papers. I know the company for which I worked, though a large multi-national, had a corporate seal in the safe in Tokyo. Mine lacks that gravitas. I can't read it, nor can many of my Japanese friends. Age is no help! It plays on my name, and my itinerant lifestyle.

Why am I waiting?

A new month, and a new resolve. Too long hanging around outside the gate — no amount of theorising will tell me what's on the other side. So, step forward.
While travelling this week, I took with me by chance, "Pure Heart, Enlightened Mind", the journal and letters of Maura 'Soshin' O'Halloran, who trained in her twenties at Toshoji in Tokyo and Kannonji in Iwate Prefecture. She died in a road accident in Thailand, returning to Ireland just a few months after her transmission. "She left this life immediately to start the salvation of the masses in the next life", Ban Tetsugyu. Without exploring why, I was brought up short by this re-reading. The journal and letters were obviously not written for publication and are the more powerful for that. They sit with the canon of the few other female Zen Priests who trained in Japan. More importantly, it shook me awake, the combination of the Chinese New Year, a move to Singapore, and the sudden realisation that my training hardly deserved the name, all coming together and ringing alarm bells. I take heed of Moving Mountain, acknowledge the fact and hit the "learn" button.

Through the gate!

I respectfully offer the merit of this post to Soshin O'Halloran.
Pure Heart, Enlightened Mind, Maura 'Soshin' O'Halloran, Thorsons, London 1995.

"As she was before she was"

"Marguerite Porete was burned at the stake on the first of June, 1310, at the Place de la Grève in Paris. Porete, from Hainaut in northern France, belonged to that class of woman known as beguines, whose status was midway between the laity and clergy. The beguines modelled their rule in part on the rules of the recognized monastic orders, but they were free to leave the cloister and marry. Porete followed in the distinguished line of beguine mystical writers that included Mechthild of Magdeburg (d. ca. 1294) and Hadewijch of Antwerp (fl. 1240)."

"The annihilation of the soul (with its reason, will, and works) entails a reversion to that precreative state of being, to what the soul was 'when she was not.'"

From "Mystical Languages of Unsaying" Michael A Sells, University of Chicago Press, 1994

Infantile adults

The Archbishop of Canterbury, Dr Rowan Williams, is a man of straight words. While thinking about childhood wonderment, I had at the back of my mind, something he said last year. More surprisingly, I found it! Speaking at a conference in East London he said, "Childhood is most positively valued and fostered when we resist infantilism. When adults stop being infants, children can be children." Further, "If we go on producing grown up infants we can hardly wonder why different sorts of violence and dysfunction exist in our society."

In a society that devotes newspaper comment to "Big Brother" (not George Orwell's), he has a point.

Reported in the Guardian on-line, April 11th 2005.

A Gift

MovingMountain describes a child's simple wonderment. We should cherish it in the child and nurture it in the adult. It is a divine gift. Fortunately, there are still those moments, even for me! I need to remind myself that the inner path is not all furrowed brow and striving, but more about recovering what was there all the time. Quite simple. Laughter is a clue.

"When I asked him for the real meaning of Buddhism, he immediately struck me. Three times I put this question to him, and three times I received blows. I don't know where I was at fault."
Thereupon Master Ta-yū exclaimed, "Your master treated you entirely with motherly kindness, and yet you say you do not know your fault."
Hearing this, Lin-chi was suddenly awakened and said, "After all, there isn't much in Huang-po's Buddhism!"

(Picture from a 1997 calendar I found while clearing papers: published by Pomegranate, photograph by Brian Harris. Text from "Original Teachings of Ch'an Buddhism, selected from The Transmission of the Lamp", trans. Chang Chung-Yuan, Pantheon Books, 1969).

The Han's version of Time

I'm reading The Labyrinth of Time by Michael Lockwood. Like his earlier book Mind, Brain & the Quantum I'm finding it tough going. Lockwood, an Oxford philosopher, publishes sparingly – always a good sign – so I'll make the effort.
As I age, time passes more quickly for me: I'm not sure why, but it's real. Inevitably we view time through the short span of human life (perhaps one reason why we have such difficulty with global warming). I can feel two generations either side of my own, grandparents to grandchildren, but outside that it dims rapidly. With my head, I know about Planck time, the smallest interval of time, 10^-43 sec, and about the age of the Universe, 12 billion years, say 10¹⁷ secs, but I cannot comprehend this vast 10⁶⁰ interval other than by manipulating symbols: I can't feel it, or act on it.
To say with Dogen-zenji that our bodies are as transient as dew on the grass is, on this scale, being very generous. In time they are nothing.
This much-used han speaks of a slow time: if you have spent time in a monastery you will know the measured "tok, tok, tok", scaled to the affairs of man. Today the monk is as likely as not to have a crystal oscillator in her watch, ticking to a different beat, the MHz of the computer world. Each in its place, provided they stay there. Somewhere I read, "if it can be measured it isn't worth doing". Like most aphorisms, a kernel of truth, for our frenetic world.

Beowulf's funeral

I am fortunate in my friends: they read me too well. Thank you.

If you need a reason to doubt that the future is digital, handle this slim volume and admire the publisher's art. Like Heaney's translation of Sophocles' The Burial at Thebes, this is a wonderful translation beautifully produced. It will survive when my CDs are dust. The introduction is a deeply felt essay: Heaney speaks of his task as "scriptorium-slow", yet the resulting translation is a work as relevant today as it was at the close of the first millenium. The agony of the woman's loss is ever present, Iraq, Darfur, Gaza, an anonymous missile, a timeless grief.

Composed in Anglo-Saxon between the 7th and 10th Century.

"The Geat people built a pyre for Beowulf,
stacked and decked it until it stood foursquare,
hung with helmets, heavy war-shields
and shining armour, just as he had ordered.
Then his warriors laid him in the middle of it,
mourning a lord far-famed and beloved.
On a height they kindled the hugest of all
funeral fires; fumes of woodsmoke
billowed darkly up, the blaze roared
and drowned out their weeping, wind died down
and flames wrought havoc in the hot bone-house,
burning it to the core. They were disconsolate
and wailed aloud for their lord's decease.
A Geat woman too sang out in grief;
with hair bound up, she unburdened herself
of her worst fears, a wild litany
of nightmare and lament: her nation invaded,
enemies on the rampage, bodies in piles,
slavery and abasement. Heaven swallowed the smoke."

Seamus Heaney, Beowulf, Faber & Faber, 2000, p98

Not the click of Enlightenment!

The Sony Picturebook emitted a sharp click, and stopped: instant blackness. No life, dead. An old friend, second-hand and slow maybe, but small and light, ideal for travel. One of those moments where non-attachment tests you. Repair was out of the question – it is long obsolete. I have learnt that the best thing is to make a coffee, build up gumption, and then think about what might be wrong. Precipitate action usually makes things worse.
I had been running from the battery, and most likely it had shorted internally and blown a fuse or similar internal protection. The laptop seemed unharmed. A new battery was ordered from the internet, delivered overnight, and it is working again.
Ubuntu Linux came up without a hiccup, not even a file check (I forced one anyway, to be sure). Even better, the new battery fully charged now lasts two hours or one railway journey! I will treat it with respect and cycle it a few times.

ASLSP - "As slow as possible"

I usually wince when I read about "personal productivity". It seems the antithesis of what life is for. So, it is a joy to read about the performance of John Cage's work Organ 2/ASLSP, now being played in the minimally restored ruins of the church of St Burchardi in Halberstadt. His instructions were that it was to be played "as slow as possible". But how slow is that? In Halberstadt, the performance will last 639 years until 2640, with an interval in 2319. One week ago, on 5th January, another chord was begun. The organ is being built as the performance unfolds. I missed the performance on January 5th, but another opportunity will occur on 5th May 2006, when the chord will end. Then you must wait until 2008. Perfect.
The website design is very fine and particularly apt for the project. The gallery offers a moving-camera view of the minimally reconstructed church.

A mad world.

Some years ago, a wise CEO for whom I worked, was looking over an applicant's curriculum vitae. We needed an affordable lawyer, if that is not a contradiction. After a few moments, and with increasing exasperation that it had reached him, he threw it aside saying it is impossible to have this experience at so young an age. I thought about this while reading about the Deutsche Bank trader, censured for over-stating his position by $30M. As the Financial Times put it "The world of synthetic collateralised debt obligations and of so-called correlation trading is incredibly complex and fast-moving. New products, some of them very illiquid and difficult to trade are created all the time .... But it often leaves senior managers and executives casting around for advice from independent experts about the actions of their subordinates". I think we are confusing jargon with complexity, but what struck me more was that the trader in question is 26. I started thinking about right-livelihood, the fifth path on the noble eightfold way.

Later I read about Macquarie Bank's hostile bid for the London Stock Exchange, "The bank's bid document revealed the offer to be one of Europe's most highly leveraged ever. The £1.5bn deal is being financed with £1.28bn of debt". Leveraged indeed! So why Macquarie? If we must sell the family silver, why not a UK "vehicle".

A mad world. I must stop reading the FT.

GNER

GNER has increased my train fare by 22% since December 2005 and 39% since January 2005. No explanation. Do I stop eating?

The Maitreya Buddha

So much comes to mind with this expressive image of the Miroku Bosatsu (弥勒菩薩) in Kōryū-ji (広隆寺) Kyoto. On the practical level, the realisation I can no longer pay my ¥500 and see it as before, cataracts have intruded – one fixed, one to go. The pictures therefore are all the more valuable to me. A professional photographer has access, lighting (and skill of course), that is not given to tourists – indeed photography in Kōryū-ji is not allowed. I have seen the Miroku Bosatsu image high-up on a neon-lit advertising site in the Ginza, (selling what I know not). It is said that in 1960, the little finger was snapped off the statue by an enraptured student who hugged it. I can understand that.

The statue is most likely from Korea, or carved in Japan by a Korean craftsman, during the 7th Century. The wood is not native to Japan, and a strikingly similar statue is in the National Museum in Seoul. Indeed, there are several variants from around this time, and it seems to represent an artistic development as Buddhism entered Japan via the Korean peninsula. Scholars admire the draped folds, the delicacy of the features, the verticality of the slender figure. It is without equal, timeless, yet in time, representing as it does the Maitreya Buddha, the Buddha yet to come.

Sometimes I feel I need to close a post with the sound of a bell. There is nothing useful to say. This is such a time.

Another trip round the Sun

You will not read this having no need of computers. Women give life, men work hard at destroying it, or so it seems. It was not easy, as I now know. But, you are strong, and I hope I inherited a little of that.

From the Asakusa Kannon-do Temple in Tokyo: as with the the smoke from the huge incense cauldron (occasionally on fire), rubbing this statue appropriately provides relief for aches and pains. So, I gave a rub for your arthritis! Happy birthday mother.

A New Year Greeting: Babar's Dream

Time to be affirmative.

"In an archetypal battle between good and evil, the graceful winged elephants—the angels of kindness, intelligence, courage, patience, perseverance, knowledge, work, hope, love, health, joy and happiness—drive out the demons of misfortune, anger, stupidity, discouragement, sickness, spinelessness, despair, fear, ignorance, cowardice, laziness. The qualities championed here are personal virtues, involving the life of the mind and the life of the individual. Although the orderly angel–elephants resemble an army, with little differentiation among them compared to the dramatically articulated figures of evil, the angels do not proclaim a nationalistic, corporate or moralistic cause but instead affirm a gracious and serene intelligence. Several of the flying elephants carry symbols characteristic of the virues; the flowers of hope, the candle of knowledge, the saw of perseverance, the hammer of work, the shield and sword of courage, the clock of patience. And so angelic harmonies banish discordant evils from Celestville, the home of Babar and Celeste."

From Edward R Tufte, Visual Explanations, (Graphics Press, 1997), pp 127-129 describes Babar's Dream, first published in Jean de Brunhoff, Le Roi Babar (Paris, 1933).


The text reads:
...de gracieux éléphants ailés qui chassent le Malheur loin de Célestville, et ramènent avec eux le Bonheur.-
A ce moment, il se réveille, et se sent mieux.

Peur, Désespoir, Mollesse, Ignorance, Malheur, Maladie, Lâcheté, Paresse, Colère, Bêtise, Découragement.
Courage, Intelligence, Bonte, Persévérance, Patience, Travail, Espoir, Savoir, Joie, Santé, Amour, Bonheur

Ushnishasitatapattra

In 1992 the Royal Academy of Arts held an exhibition of the Sacred Art of Tibet simply called "Wisdom and Compassion". This striking image is from the free guide, and for many years followed me around from desk to desk. I thought it worth sharing, it is truly beautiful. The exhibition catalogue describes her as follows:

Thousand-armed Ushnishasitatapattra is a special form of the goddess Tara, a female counterpart of the thousand-armed form of Avalokiteshvara. Her iconography is probably one of the most complex in the Tibetan Buddhist pantheon. The goddess has as many heads and legs as she has arms. She tramples on human beings, birds and animals. Pressed under her feet into two cubes in this sculpture, they symbolise egocentric existence.

(The statue stands 102 cm, and is from the State Hermitage in St. Petersburg. Description is by G. Leonov).

At the same exhibition Tibetan monks constructed an elaborate sand mandala over several days. I remember in particular a small child invited to share the task, rasping the funnels to trickle out the coloured sand. What fun! Then, when complete, the mandala was scooped up, and thrown in the Thames, for the merit of all Beings.

Impact factor

Perhaps some compassion is due Professor Hwang Woo-suk, the South Korean stem-cell researcher. The press is as quick to damn as it was to laud him, and then moves on. We might remind ourselves that the two papers in question in one of the world's leading scientific journals, had multiple authors (25 in one case, 15 in the other), and were peer-reviewed. Science is always self-correcting, not always so rapidly and destructively, and a more sober analysis will emerge: hopefully something will be salvaged, not least for the people involved. High-profile science, where publication priority and "impact factor" translate directly to funding, is fiercely competitive. Nobody, least of all politicians, wants to hear about the luck and hard-work that is research. Science doesn't win votes. This is the world we have made.

"I returned, and saw under the sun, that the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding, nor yet favour to men of skill; but time and chance happeneth to them all."

Ecclesiastes 9:11

Taking the step

I have a decision to make. Like most decisions of any import, it ultimately does not lend itself to analysis, so I have to simply let go and take the step.

"Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might: for there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in the grave, whither thou goest."
Ecclesiastes 9:10

I prefer the King James to Nike's "Just do it".

(At the entrance to Hônen-in, Kyoto)

Shadows of our Former Selves

On the Tyne Bridge, looking towards the Gateshead Millennium Bridge. There is a webcam looking at much the same view. The webcam images are said to show "the Date and Time in Newcastle and Gateshead". I know they guard their independence, but I'm glad to see they agree on something. Long may they prosper - fine cities.

Right Livelihood

A week ago, a typing error at Mizuho Securities cost the bank a fortune, as a trader sold 610,000 shares in J-Com at ¥1, instead of 1 share for ¥610,000. As anyone who has paid on-line will know, there is always the doubt and double-checking before you hit "submit". In an ideal world, the trade would have been automatically blocked by the system, but it is not that which bothers me. Other traders watching their screens noticed this very unusual trade, and acted instinctively, buying J-Com shares at a discounted price as fast as they could. That is their training. It could have been over within minutes. Then of course Mizuho has to buy back the shares to honour the trade. It is said to have cost the bank over $300 million. That would go a long way in Kashmir.
Could a trader act otherwise (and keep his job)? They are trained to spot and use opportunities, and computers are programmed to do much the same, and may well have beaten them to it. But after the flurry of dealing, it must have been apparent to all that a mistake had been made. If you took advantage of an individual in this way, you would be reviled, yet to do the same of a corporation seems inevitable and acceptable.
Lehman Brothers may yet decide to return the profit it made, and other Japanese banks will be under moral pressure to do the same, but at the moment it still looks like a very expensive mistake for Mizuho. We should spare a thought for the trader!

Reading Japanese?

No, I don't read Japanese, nor speak it - but I dabble. An excellent Firefox plugin for when I must make the effort, is RikaiXUL, from Todd Rudick. Moving the mouse over a Kanji does an instantaneous dictionary lookup and displays the matches. Its smart feature is the ability to intelligently use adjacent Kanji or Kana. Very clever. As it is released under GPL, Jon Zarate was able to enhance the code and create rickaichan. I have RikaiXUL installed under Firefox 1.0.7 on an elderly IBM Thinkpad, and it works well. Rickaichan I have installed on an old HP box under the new Firefox 1.5. It's faster, and displays more information, not all of which you may need (stroke count etc.). But, both are fine products, and very usable. Both can be easily disabled when not required. (I imagine the underlying dictionary is Jim Breen's KanjiDic).

Hall of Roaring Waves

The middle floor of Kinkaku-ji (1st floor to the British, 2nd floor to everyone else), is the Cho-on-do, The Hall of Roaring Waves, constructed in the bukezukuri-style of samurai dwellings. It houses the Kannon Bodhisattva and four attendant Shitenno Guardians of the Four Directions. Two are seen here. The floor is lacquered to a mirror finish, and the Hall also houses paintings by Kano Masanobu (1434-1530). As access is not possible, I relied on the guide book, from which this (part) image comes. Imagine it at night, faint light from a full moon filtering in and the golden warriors faintly reflected in the perfectly black floor.

Too little, too late?

Analysis of ice-cores drilled from the Vostock station in the Antarctic now extend measurement of atmospheric composition from 390,000 to 650,000 years before present (Science 2005, 310, 1313). The concentration of CO₂, at 380 ppm, is now 27% higher than the pre-industrial level. Methane is also at the highest level for 650,000 years.

New analysis indicates that the Gulf Stream that keeps us relatively warm in Northern Europe has slowed 30% since 1957 (Nature 2005, 438, 655). Melting Greenland ice could be disrupting the return deep water flow to the south Atlantic. Of course, none of this can be proven, so we can carry on as before, can't we?

A roadside sign protesting the expansion of Stansted airport, encapsulates it: "Cheap flights cost the Earth".

Takigi-Noh

I have been to one indoor Noh performance in Kyoto, but have so far been unable to make a trip coincide with an outdoor performance (Takigi-Noh). At the millenium New Year festivity in Kyoto, there was a Noh performance on Karasuma-dori, but I was on my way to the temple complexes in Higashi-yama to ring in the New Year. Noh is quite extraordinary and absorbing, even to this gaijin, and I must try again in 2006.
There is actually a Noh theatre in London at the Royal Hollaway College (The Handa Noh Studio). I hope it is still funded!
I have tried to find Noh on DVD while in Japan, but without success. Maybe I need the equivalent of BBC recordings?

(The image is a postcard from Kinkaku-ji)