Writers In Kyoto

Page 45 of 65

Featured writing

The Seven Forms of Infiltration (Kimura)

October 10, 2018

Author’s note: I am attempting to write a short novel (entitled The Seven Forms of Infiltration) that takes its inspiration from manga, Japanese comic books; the excerpt below is the first few pages of this novel. The heroine is a young woman who is training to be a ninja. For artistic effects, I use actual (translated) quotes from ancient historical ninja training manuals (set off in italics in the text and labeled) such as The Shinobi Hiden, The Koka Ryu Ninjitsu Densho and the Yoshimori Hyakushu. These training manuals have been collected in a book entitled The Secret Traditions of the Shinobi: Hattori Hanzen’s Shinobi Hiden and Other Ninja Scrolls (edited and translated by Antony Cummins and Yoshie Minami) (Berkely CA: Blue Snake Books, 2012).

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The Seven Forms of Infiltration (by Marianne Kimura)

Shinobi from the first have been utilized by generals since ancient times with a great emphasis. It is the case that one man and his strategy can destroy tens of thousands of enemies attain virtue and achievements, or make his way where there is no path. [~from The Shinobi Hiden, Vol. II]

What were the merchants talking about?
Hers was an assignment without any point.
And what if the fortune-tellers were wrong?

Dressed as a young monk, with a shaved head and a pointed flat straw hat, Sumi no longer really looked like a woman, though she thought, perhaps, that she still walked like a woman, with a faint swaying motion. It was frankly both impossible and exhausting for her to convincingly walk like a man. The sauntering splayed legs and large arm movements of men were beyond her skill.

The merchants, nicely dressed in dark and immaculate kimonos with crests, wandered away before she could ascertain what they were saying.

Feeling lost and disappointed she wandered down the dusty street.

The Seven Forms of Infiltration:
Through temples and shrines
As a medicine peddler
As a craftsman or merchant
As a sake merchant or farmer
Through exploiting the arts of performance [of all manners]
Through love
Through greed or desire
[~ from The Koka Ryu Ninjutsu Densho]

A woman was rarely selected to be a ninja. Lacking physical strength, women could not compete with male ninjas. Yet she had been chosen. Somehow, perhaps because her father and her elder brother were ninjas, she had also been recruited.

“Sometimes we have a job that needs a woman, you understand”, the local man organizing staff in an informal way for the warlords and generals and other military men had said to her. She had known all that. Growing up in a ninja family, it was clear that women sometimes, though quite rarely, became ninjas.

He wanted her to sign a paper and agree to undertake ninja training at his school, for a fee, to be paid by her family, of course.

Though she hadn’t asked, he continued to explain further. “You know a woman ninja is called a kunoichi”, he said, “but do you know why?”

He formed a hole with his thumb and forefinger.

She looked at him in puzzlement.

Then he calmly traced, with his pointer finger, some invisible yet familiar figures on the black lacquer table: くノ一 “ku, no, ichi” he said and then traced them on top of each other: 女, he wrote: “onna”.
“Well, of course I know that a female ninja is called a kunoichi, I’m not so stupid”, she said.
“Then maybe you are also clever enough to know that ku is nine?”
“Yes”
“And ichi is one”
“True”
“And nine plus one is?”
“Ten”.
“And, so you see, whereas men such as myself have only nine holes in our body, you, as a woman, are blessed with an additional one, a tenth one. That is what makes a kunoichi”, he said matter-of-factly.

She raised her eyebrows in comprehension mixed with surprise. It was new information to her.

“Use it as a weapon”, he advised with a nonchalant, careless air, unrolling the scroll and glancing at it. His fingers were elegant, long and slender, his movements economical yet graceful.

He must be a ninja too, she thought. Of course he wouldn’t reveal that secret to her until she was one too.

She remained silent, watching him hold the document open and flat so she could stamp it.

And she had stamped it. Her conscription was sealed.

When heading toward the sun or moon, you have no visible shadows ahead, but if you have light from behind, your shadow will project forward. [~ from The Yoshimori Hyakushu]

The sun was so hot. She couldn’t bear it. Monks robes were quite thick and the outer robe was black.

She was assigned to discover why, for years, fortune-tellers had singled out this little non-descript town.

When put into trances, various fortune-tellers, by which I mean practitioners of palmistry, card-reading, stone-casting, mind-reading and other such esoteric crafts, had often, too often for it to be random chance, muttered, in their theatrical croaking, halting, lisping or high-pitched voices, the name of this town. Why?

The local warlord and his administration had even become curious and had spent fortunes questioning the fortune-tellers more deeply and had even hired scholars to work on the mysterious project.

But no definitive answer was forthcoming, though there were rumors that there was almost certainly an unimaginable amount of gold secreted somewhere either in or near the town. Some lord, one scholar was certain the man hailed from Shinshu, had been attacked by mountain bandits and his treasure had been stolen is what generally had been concluded, though no official reports recording any theft had been heard.

Of course, everyone whispered that, “no one would discuss such an important secret officially even if they knew it, would they?”

People agreed that the lord himself would have been too embarrassed to admit that any of his gold had been stolen, though it was more likely that he had been killed during the attack.

Now, all because of this vague, ridiculous and unsubstantiated gossip, Sumi fumed, she was suffering in the hot sun in a town in the middle of nowhere.

[To be continued…..]

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To read of Marianne’s novel success, click here. To read of her thoughts on ninjas and goddesses, click here. For an extract from her novel, The Hamlet Paradigm, press here.

Featured writing

My Kyoto Cats (David Duff)

October 3, 2018

All photos courtesy Google Images

My Kyoto Cats (Davd Duff)

Kuma and Kinta were my first Kyoto cats, both blazoned with that distinctive tabby ‘M’ arched above their soft green eyes. Both had the same mother but different fathers so Kuma was a short hair while Kinta sported fluffy long hair. We shared a traditional Japanese home together and savored every moment given us.

Cats have taught me many valuable lessons about life, none more praiseworthy than their own carefree, natural spontaneity that seems to elude so many of their two legged companions. Humans, myself included, are often hamstrung by the so-called rational mind, twisted into needless agony under the cruel auspices of logic. My cats help me loosen that Cartesian straitjacket, liberating my Tao essence.

Born and raised in sunny Southern California, both boys suffered in the frightfully cold feeling Kyoto winter. Me, right along with them. One pleasant aspect of the severe, arctic like conditions was that everyday Kinta eagerly sought out the warmth my lap generated. Sometimes, as I taught English downstairs, nestled snugly under that fabulous invention of the Japanese, the kotatsu, Kuma would join me, sitting right below the heater, not more than six inches away. Although the actual winter weather temperatures seem on the surface to be moderate, Kyoto somehow even has polar bears looking for a campfire on some of their colder nights.

When we first settled in our Kyoto home, we often heard sounds of little feet pounding on the roof. The rapidity of their movements suggested the rodent family. Our boys would sit quietly by an open window, listening intently to the mice as they scurried back and forth. One day, a solitary mouse foolishly entered into the kitchen area, his last such adventure. Kinta pounced on him immediately and despite my best effort to save the reckless critter, died the following morning after I left him in a nearby shrine. We never heard the mice on the roof again. Kinta also rousted out a nasty centipede that had taken refuge in one of my book covers. These mukade, as they are called in Japanese, have quite a painful sting so I was grateful for his kind assistance.

Both boys were more alert than busy airport traffic controllers when it came to flying objects, particularly flies. Sometimes they snatched them right out of the air in a remarkable display of agility. Other times they trapped them in corners, then hungrily devoured them.

Kuma enjoyed watching sumo with me but I was afraid he was trying to emulate the gigantic wrestlers. His weight had exploded since the first basho and he was nearing the twenty pound mark. More huggable but I worried about the danger of excess poundage. No neck Kuma. He always carried his tail straight up, proudly displaying it to all the world like porn star John Holmes’ 14 inch priapean member. His massive gut still hovered several inches above the ground so we hadn’t  forced him on a crash diet yet. Undisputed lord of this old Kyoto dwelling, Kuma acted accordingly. Supremely self confident he strutted.

Kinta, on the other hand, of a far more gentle disposition, suffered bullying from a three colored cat my first wife recused from the trash outside an apartment nearby. She gave this cat we called Cookie, who should have been named Cookie Monster, to her parents who lived with us. She had a personality more suited to a pit-bull than a house cat. In spite of the fact that she weighed less than half of what Kinta did, she chased him around the house, hounding him all hours of the day. Curiously, when the two of them were outside in our backyard garden, they were cordial to each other. The bullying was restricted to inside the house only. Must be some territory dispute I guessed. Cookie, however, groveled before Kuma, deferring to the true master of the house.

I read somewhere that soldiers like dogs while artists prefer cats. An oversimplification but the more I thought about it the more it made sense. A dog’s slavish attention to man, like an obedient private following the barking of his sergeant, diminishes his appeal. I am not discounting the nobility of that loyalty and certainly not overlooking the dog’s usefulness to man. A long distinguished list indeed: Arctic dog teams, police dogs, dogs for personal protection, seeing eye dogs, and even some dogs that can sniff out cancer.

Cats march to no military band or blindly follow any orders. Our noble feline doesn’t heed commands from stuffy or finicky owners. Their own counsel guides them. That very independence adds to their aesthetic value, for a cat’s love can’t be demanded, it must be earned. Even then there’s no guarantee of success. It’s no wonder military types like Hitler and Napoleon had difficulty with cats. That roguish self-sufficiency attracts the free-spirited bohemian. Begotten to no man, the cat is a paragon of pride and dignity.

I am certain that Descartes’s appallingly ignorant assertion that animals are only soulless ‘automata’, mindless machines without feeling, reflects a total lack of feline interaction. No cat owner would utter such balderdash. Of course, he was only following those misguided authors of Genesis who supposedly gave man dominion over all animals to do with as man desired. What incredible contempt. Some Christians have attempted to wriggle their way out of that biblical passage by arguing that dominion meant responsibility, not a license for abuse, but that is a minority viewpoint.

My mother was a cat fanatic so right from birth I was surrounded by hairy bundles of love. We shared our home with anywhere from five to eight cats, along with several dogs as well. How my mother managed to keep the house clean and orderly with all those animals I will never know. Now, in my mid sixties, and never without a cat for a companion (except while in the Marines), have I ever spent a tedious or wearisome moment in a cat’s presence? No, impossible.

One day, a beat-up, badly injured, black tomcat stumbled into our carport. His right eye, damaged beyond repair in a vicious cat fight, hung loosely outside the socket, held only by a few strands of tissue. My mother rushed him to the vet and had him fixed up. With only his empty socket remaining we logically named him Cyclops. He always loved to have his hole scratched, I guess, like those amputees that still feel like itching the body part they no longer have.

My dad loved cats too and I think the shared appreciation of my parents helped keep our family together. They didn’t have much else in common. Dad would often carry his favorite cat on his shoulders when he strolled out to grab the morning paper. My parents were also hard drinking, festive folks who always gave the best parties, traits that were passed on to me, in addition to their passion for cats.

I am always learning new things about cats by diligent reading and close personal observation, although sometimes I wonder if I have been really paying attention as I didn’t notice until recently the M pattern above their eyes that all tabbies share. That was after staring right at it for decades. We see what we want to see. No more, no less. It makes me wonder what else I might have missed.

A close friend of mine, also a cat devotee, recently enlightened me about winking at cats, which at first I thought a bit silly. However, after experimenting with both Kuma and Kinta, I soon discovered such action anything but. Cat winking is a two eyed affair, with both eyes working in unison, not the one eyed version we men sometimes employ to catch the fancy of a lovely lady strolling by.

First you have to make eye contact with your targeted cat. Then, slowly, about every other second or so, blink both your eyes while maintaining rapture with your hairy companion. If love and trust are present betwixt the two of you, the cat’s eyes will gradually close as if it’s falling asleep. There’s something of a mesmerizing component to all this, a mutual hypnosis if you will. I want to try this on the bigger, more ferocious feline, the tiger. Would the winking produce the same result? “Tyger, Tyger, burning bright. In the forests of the night.”

Divorce and my resulting relocation brought a sudden end to my wonderful relationship with my first Kyoto cats, Kuma and Kinta. Although I would not see them again, those cherished memories of the time we shared together will be with me forever. Thank you, boys!!

After the breakup of my marriage I moved to a funky, ivy covered, old wooden house in Shimogamo, just a stone’s throw from the Kamo River, where I still reside today. Almost 23 years in this magical village we call Kyoto, no sane man could ask for anything more. Barely a year into my new life here, Jiro appeared. A robust brown tiger tabby he was with shiny, yellow/greenish eyes. Obviously familiar with humans, he rambled right into my genkan and said hello with a fearless but friendly meow. Had his owners abandoned him, I wondered?

One day, while I was out teaching English, Jiro discovered an old cat door the previous tenant had installed in my back door. Impatient and upset that I hadn’t returned yet, he proceeded to rip open the Friskies and help himself to the crunchy delights. Since he was a very healthy tomcat I worried Jiro might spray his urine around my house so I covered up the cat door.

Well, the very next day coming home late after drinking with my sweetheart, Mayumi, I opened my front door and low and behold, Jiro was waiting for us. How the hell had he gotten in? And upstairs there was a suspicious indentation on my comfortable bed, just about the size and shape a sleeping cat would leave. The impudent intruder had been enjoying the luxury of my own bed. It turned out that Jiro, being as powerful as he is, had pried open the back door.

Jiro’s weight, from all the tender loving care he has been receiving from me, has ballooned, his prominent belly proudly protruding. As charming as he is there is little doubt that he is coaxing food from other nearby residents. He is nestled in my lap as I now write about him, providing inspiration for my prose.

Inseparable we are, Jiro and I. My house cat guard boy even follows me to the restroom occasionally, I guess, to make sure I am not molested by any of the various wildlife that share this old castle with us. Not only protecting my ‘jungle house,’ Jiro also acts as a backup alarm clock as he gets up about the same time I like to, around 5:30am, when he then proceeds to knock over a book or two or jump on my fax machine. Always an early breakfast time for my hardworking feline companion.

Shortly after he started living here, I had him fixed, not wanting him to suffer the same unfortunate fate that so many unneutered males suffer. Although he still tangles with the other toms in this neighborhood, the fights are nowhere near as violent as before, when Jiro was more than a match for even the most menacing tom rival.

Coming home after a lesson or having a beer or two, I often find Jiro waiting for me in the middle of the narrow road fronting my house. Recognizing the unique squeak from my bicycle, he springs to life and warmly greets me. Never had I cat that behaved so but then Jiro is one very special example of feline development.

Adding a few final comments on why cats so bedazzle, so arouse, and so galvanize me, I will conclude this earnest tribute dedicated to the Japanese cat. Of course, all cats, everywhere, are praiseworthy but somehow the Japanese people have found unique ways to show their profound love of the noble feline. Thank you, Japan.

When I am with my cat I feel the presence of the divine in every single stroke of its soft fur, hear the deafening roar of eternity in its thundering purr, and see the radiant glory of god in its sparkling eyes.

Cats are so instinctive, so intuitive, and so staunchly here and now, that they often remind me of the Japanese people. I say that despite knowing full well the heavy burdens that constrain them for they have managed to retain that naturalness synonymous with cats, especially the women.

To act in a free and spontaneous manner, in complete harmony with one’s natural essence, is something the cat does easier than any other creature I know. When they are hungry, they eat, when they are tired, they nap, and when they want to play, they play. Watching cats play is a joy without equal. Well, almost. If any animal is more like the Tao than the cat, they must live outside our solar system. I yearn to capture that elusive spirit and live like the cat.

For cat worshipers, Japan is the ultimate destination. There is something here for all types of feline lovers. Trust me, you will not be the least bit disappointed. Drop in to Kyoto and say Hello, or Meow if you like. Look me up on Facebook and let’s have a beer or two together, my cat admiring brothers and sisters. Cheers!

Tama-chan, station master, who became japan’s most famous cat

 

Featured writing

Spirited Spirit Guides (E. Taylor)

September 23, 2018

Courtesy Korea Tour

Edward J. Taylor writes: ‘As John Dougill, the editor of this Writers in Kyoto webpage, has been posting about Korean Shamanism at his blog Green Shinto, I thought that I’d submit a travel piece about a two-week meander up Korea’s east coast in 1997, playing connect-the-dots with the country’s sacred Buddhist and Shamanistic peaks, which was no mean feat in winter.’

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I awoke to find that my watch had died. Despite this, I was still on time for my early bus to T’aebeksan, a modest mount of 1566 meters, but regarded as one of Korea’s most sacred mountains.

A group of middle-aged couples paid for my admission ticket, so I hiked with them awhile, not sharing a common language, me acting as their Sherpa guide up front. The pace was slow, with a lot of stopping to fiddle with equipment and arguing about whether or not to wear gloves. I thought it respectful to stick with them, since they’d paid for me, but gradually the distance between us grew, and I continued on alone.

It wasn’t long before the path grew a little treacherous. With spring coming on, the snow had melted and refrozen, then was covered again with a fresh coat. This created an incredibly slick surface which covered a mountain road for about two kilometers. At the crest, I descended a stone staircase, which ran beneath a sort of Indiana Jones-like pulley system leading to Manggyeongsa Temple, the highest elevation temple in Korea.

My approach set some dogs to barking, and a nun’s head popped out a window to shut them up. As I turned my head back to the trail again, a strange man was right in my face, grinning. I indicated that I couldn’t speak Korean, pointing to my ears and shaking my head. He answered this by pulling his hat sideways to show one of his own ears. I waited for him to say something, but he simply stood there, grinning. So I walked back up the steps, looking back once to see him standing by a payphone, which he was apparently guarding.

The trail grew steeper, the ice slicker, making the ascents slow and the descents perilous. I dealt with the latter by literally sliding from tree trunk to tree trunk, with no hope at all for footing. At the top, the snow was thin, covering a trail that led along the ridge to an old worn shaman’s altar, now little more than piled stones. On the next peak was another altar, and walking toward it across the ridge, I was blasted by a cold wind that seemed dead set on stripping the skin of my face to the skull.

A sign on the true summit gave a brief description of the mountain, as well as a warning that hunting and breaking branches was “immoral.” But looking around, I assumed that tossing cigarette butts and hawking up huge balls of phlegm was okay in the eyes of the gods.

The adjacent altar was about two meters high and rounded like an old medieval turret. Amidst a number of candles in the center was a stone platform littered with food offerings, surrounding a pig’s head, the mouth stuffed with money. As I was fumbling with my camera, a Korean man clad in robes came and yelled at me, “America! I love you!” He shouted this again, pumping my hand excitedly. After repeating this a few more times, he then gave me a big bear hug. I of course could do little more than laugh and hug and shout back, “I love you!”

Finally he stopped and with a thumbs up asked, “Agassi?” From me, thumbs up.

“Yeah!” from him, and a big hug.

“Clinton?” Big hug.

“Hillary?” Big hug.

So for a minute or so we stood hugging each other, yelling “I love you!” back and forth, until another hiker, who turned out to be a Korean living in San Jose California, walked up and said, “You two must really love each other!”

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For a piece by Edward J. Taylor on watching the World Cup see here, and for a lengthier travel piece on Havana, Cuba, see here. For an account of the Silk Road see here, and for Sri Lanka see here.

For a full-length interview with Ted, please click here.

Writers in focus

Improv Poesy (Preston Houser)

September 11, 2018

Written for a Friend Frightened of his Screens
by Preston Houser
for F.L.

on a day like this when it’s too hot
to do much more than stare or sleep
I follow the cats’ lead and find a cool place to lie
if I had any fur I suppose I’d lick it
that’s what world LA culture does to you

I read poetry but the only poet that makes sense
in this heat is Charles Bukowski who thought that
the certainty of death would make us love one another

but it doesn’t

he was right about that
Bukowski’s conclusive epitaph was “don’t try”
and I certainly agree with him there
I remember liking the poem “tv”
where the poet switches channels between the movie
Alexander the Great and roller derby—a “great night”

Since you broached the subject of television
aka the glass teat, boob tube, idiot box
I thought I should mention that even though Orwell
envisioned a television that watches the watcher
he could not for all his prophecy foresee
that a camera in the tube looking back at the viewer
would not be necessary, the screen on its own
would pacify nations—he was wrong (nice try tho)

nevertheless cameras are everywhere
on corners cars corridors rooms helmets
God may be dead but all-seeing Santa thrives
even J. Kerouac lamented that there were so many cops
that one could not even aspire to be a proper hobo
“The woods are full of wardens” was Kerouac’s conclusion

what with cameras recording so much
that only more cameras can watch it all
I’m reminded of the perfect unsavory metaphor:

mid-nineteenth century, a southern whorehouse,
a white couple going at it
a black servant enters mid-fucking
with a tray of drinks that he puts on the table
exits
hooker and client pay him no mind

today the proverbial house n. has morphed into
the camera the twentieth-century electronic n.
weird but that’s how I see it
tv makes us it or tries anyway
scary but nothing to be afraid of

that’s the parano…I mean that’s the poem
for all the good it will do
delete after reading

—apologies to C.B.

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To see an earlier posting of four poems by Preston, click here.

Preston ‘Kaido’ Houser, adding atmosphere to one of WiK’s events in his role as shakuhachi master

Featured writing

Goddesses and Ninjas (Kimura)

September 1, 2018

Goddesses and Ninjas: the mad, dashing world of Shakespeare

Diana with stag (by James Houstian)

interview with Marianne Kimura

Q. It was a fiercely hot summer in Kyoto, the ancient capital of Japan. How did you cope?

A. I stayed indoors in my air-conditioned bedroom and sat on my futon writing papers. First, I wrote about the goddess in As You Like It. The next paper was about how Hamlet is similar to a ninja.

Q. A goddess? Are you sure? No one talks about goddesses in Shakespeare usually.

A. I first discovered a goddess figure in Shakespeare on Halloween, a few minutes past midnight, last year. It was really quite spooky. I was doing an investigation of Love’s Labor’s Lost (written around 1595) and its original subtitle is “a pleasant conceited comedy” so I knew there was a conceit (an extended metaphor) there. I read the play carefully over a few days at the end of October when my college gave us a break from teaching classes for a student festival. I also watched the play on YouTube—a production with Jeremy Brett. It’s very well done. By October 30, I was finished reading it and that evening after dinner I started to try to think how any allegory or conceit was functioning. Finally, late in the evening I realized that there were all these images of and references to blindness, goddesses, sun worship, wounded deer, philosophy, the number nine, and pedants.

If you take all these elements together, and if you know the importance of Giordano Bruno to Shakespeare’s work, then all of these elements are found in only one book: Bruno’s Gli Heroici Furori (The Heroic Furies), which was published in London in 1585. I suddenly realized that Shakespeare had hidden the main ideas and elements of Gli Eroici Furori in this play. That is the conceit! I happened to check the time then and it was few minutes past midnight on the 31st: Halloween! I felt as though a ghost had dropped in to whisper the answer. Halloween, you probably know, is the day spirits are said to return, kind of like O-bon in Japan. I was happy but also I was sort of freaked out.

Q. What happened after that?

A. Well, I wrote the paper and it got a lot of views on Academia and also it got published in a journal of the college where I work. And I sent in the idea to the British Shakespeare Association which was organizing a conference to be held in June in Belfast and they accepted the idea and I got to go to the conference and present my idea. It was great fun.

Glastonbury goddess (photo John D)

Q. What do you mean by the Goddess?

A. Bruno knew about goddesses in general but he also came up with his own specific vision in Gli Heroici Furori, which is an allegory too, because the Divine Feminine (also known as the Goddess) was a heretical idea in Bruno’s day of course. There are two supernatural characters in his work, one is the goddess Diana and one is a nymph in the River Thames. Each one stars in a little story in the book. In the first one, Actaeon, the hunter, is used as Bruno’s metaphor for the Heroic Lover, a philosopher in search of the Divine Truth. Well, he finds it, symbolized by Diana bathing in a pool under the moon. She sees him, of course and turns him into a stag, whereupon he is killed and devoured by his hunting dogs.

According to Bruno, the Heroic Lover then achieves his goal of finding the Divine Truth because he merges into nature, into the world, he becomes one with it and ceases to see himself as separated from it. This is pretty deep actually: this is the place where the material world becomes sacred because we see ourselves as one with it. This is a worldview that modern people associate with indigenous tribes who, of course, usually have goddesses. But to Bruno, this is the correct view. It’s very much an environmental idea too: don’t corrupt and pollute your planet because you corrupt and pollute your own body too.

Q. What about the nymph?

A. In this anecdote in Gli Eroici Furori, nine philosophers near Rome are struck blind by the witch Circe when she sprinkles water on them. Then she kindly gives them a sealed jar and says that if they can open it they can sprinkle the water inside it on themselves and see again. They are very upset since they can’t open the jar and though they are blind, they somehow wander all the way north through Europe and end up in London, near the River Thames. A river nymph there opens the jar easily and sprinkles the water on them. They can see. Some scholars see this nymph as Queen Elizabeth I, who was in power at the time. Scholars also see the nymph as representing learning, scientific scholarship, wisdom, knowledge and these things that were going against the superstition and closed-mindedness of the Catholic Church of that day.

I think what Bruno was trying to say was that a goddess should have two aspects: one (Diana) is the sacred beauty of nature, the other (the river nymph) is a positive mind for learning and education. He saw Europe as very much in need of such a goddess. And Shakespeare liked this idea tremendously too. To him, the Divine Feminine was obviously sacred. He put it into his works as much as possible. Of course he hid it; the idea was totally heretical. That’s why all the major female characters in the comedies are disguised in one way or another.

Q. Ah ha! So in As You Like It, Rosalind and Celia, who are dressed as men, are goddess figures.

A. Exactly! There is so much Brunian imagery in the play too: a wounded stag, a philosopher from the Continent, a magician hidden in the forest. Plus, the play is against capitalism and fossil fuels. Little words like “mines” show the hidden concerns Shakespeare had with coal. And he was completely correct to be concerned: fossil fuels (coal) were wrecking London in his day and now they (coal and oil) are wrecking the planet. Plastic pollution is a huge concern but climate change is another big problem. It was often too hot to go outside safely in Kyoto this summer and many other places around the world also reported record high temperatures. 2018 is one of the hottest years on record, surpassed only by the four most recent years preceding it. Scientists warn we will also see huge problems developing with agriculture with such hot temperatures. We need to phase them out a.s.a.p.

Q. What about the ninja and Hamlet then? That also sounds unconventional for a Shakespearean!

A. I was casually chatting about ninjas with one scholar I met in Ireland at the BSA conference. I’ve been studying ninjas for a while actually and I was explaining to him how ninjas use unconventional fighting techniques. A few days later, just daydreaming, I put the idea of Hamlet together with ninjas because I realized that Hamlet uses unconventional fighting techniques too. He waits a long time to strike and ninjas often also had to wait a long time.

The first kanji in ninja is 忍, which means shinobu, to bear or endure. Then I checked a book I have called the Shoninki (正忍記) which was originally written on scrolls in 1681 in code by a real ninja master named Masazumi Natori. The Shoninki is rare because mostly ninja instructions and educational material were orally transmitted to preserve the secrecy of the ninja strategies.

The Shoninki has a lot of specific advice for those who want to be ninjas. I compared this advice to some of the things Hamlet does and says and I found many similarities. I don’t mean that Hamlet was exactly a ninja, only that ninjutsu has some philosophical background in Taoism and Zen Buddhism and it’s possible that Shakespeare could have intuitively grasped some of the principles involved: for example the Way, the nebulous and profound idea from Chinese philosophy that touches on morality and other aspects of our fundamental connection to the universe.

Q. You found ninjas and goddesses in Shakespeare! Your views are very unusual indeed! How do you cope with being so unusual in your field?

A. I don’t really care. To me, Shakespeare and his works have more in common with the mad dashing world of Japanese manga and anime, (where indeed you can sometimes see ninjas and goddesses), than anything else. In manga we often see outsider, underdog, even sort of ridiculous characters up against overwhelmingly strong powers.

To me, Shakespeare was a mad (in a good way) dashing hero fighting secretly and valiantly for a bunch of outsider underdog causes: he was against capitalism, against fossil fuels, against monothesism, and he was for Giordano Bruno, for the Divine Feminine, for our planet, for sun worship and nature worship. He hid his real ideas in allegories; it’s like a secret code, another ninja-like aspect of him. It’s fantastic, heroic, brilliant, romantic. As an academic, I’m perfectly content to explore this aspect of him and I know that as long as I stick to this ideology, I’m necessarily an outsider, in exile, and an underdog myself in this world we live in now. I’m also extremely grateful to Japan for being a country with this wonderful culture that gave me a deep education in goddesses and ninjas—often, yes, I turned to anime and manga for information and inspiration. Also Shinto shrines and folktales. I think Shakespeare would have loved Japan.

Q. Lately, you’ve been focusing on non-fiction, your scholarly articles. How about more fiction?

A. Yes, maybe, I might try a third novel soon. I am trying to come up with some plot ideas. I want to explore this idea of the goddess a lot more. A novel with a goddess might be great fun. I only want to write something, non-fiction or fiction, if it’s great fun for me. That’s my only rule.

Altar at the Goddess Temple, Glastonbury (photo by John D)

Writers in focus

Writers in Oxford

August 27, 2018

John Dougill writes…

John Dougill of WiK with Robert Bullard of WiO

Few WiK members will be aware that in a sense Writers in Oxford is our parent organisation. Not in any formal basis, but simply as a source of inspiration. The links go back to 1993, when I had returned to Oxford after a six year spell in Japan and heard of an organisation for writers which had started up the year before. Since I’d published textbooks and a couple of guidebooks to Oxford, I signed up and was flattered to find myself among such luminaries as Philip Pullman and Brian Aldiss.

During my year in Oxford, I attended several functions, including a dinner talk with an agent, an informal open house, a quiz and a punting party. The emphasis was on friendly socialising and writerly camaraderie. I got to know novelists like Sara Banerjee and non-fiction writers like Jennie Hampton, both of whom I believe are still active members of WiO 26 years later.

The launch of WiK in April 2015, with instigators John Dougill and David Duff, together with guest speaker Amy Chavez (author and columnist)

After returning to Japan, I spent a few happy years researching and writing a cultural history of Kyoto, and subsequently wrote books on other aspects of Japanese culture. Then one day in 2014 a friend mentioned over a game of chess that several of his acquaintances were writers and that it would be good to have some kind of regular get-together. My mind immediately went back to Writers in Oxford, as I’d enjoyed the sense of community it brought to what is often a lonely activity.

For a while half a dozen of us met in my university office to discuss matters related to writing. We took it in turn to give presentations, but pretty soon it became evident that we were running out of steam. Something needed to change, and so we tried an online grouping instead. The idea was to keep it loose and commitment free, so that members could participate as little or as much as they wished. Most people in Kyoto have busy lives, and on any given day there is sure to be something special going on in the city, so flexibility was a key part of the set-up.

We were given a huge boost in our first years thanks to Eric Johnston, a leading journalist with the Japan Times, who not only provided us with contact to famous authors in Tokyo but to those willing to visit Kyoto. In addition, he single-handedly took on the editing of our first Anthology (see here). In this way we were able to host such illustrious writers as Robert Whiting and Karel van Wolferen.

WiK’s first Anthology party

There were magical evenings too, such as the Allen Weiss reading at Robert Yellin’s gallery, with candlelight and shakuhachi to enhance the atmosphere. Another very special event was WW1 poetry reading on July 1, 2016 in commemoration of the centenary of the Battle of the Somme. Along with readings of 11 poets by 11 different readers was a singalong of WW1 songs led by Felicity Greenland. As for book launches, two outstanding events were those of Another Kyoto by Alex Kerr in a stunning old machiya in the geisha district of Kamishichiken and a photo exhibit of Zen Gardens and Temples of Kyoto by photographer John Einarsen.

Other events in the past couple of years have included Robert Yellin on Japanese ceramics; a Basho symposium with invited speakers; Justin McCurry of The Guardian; Mark Richardson reading his poetry and sharing his encyclopedic knowledge of Robert Frost; a dinner talk with famed translator Juliet Winters Carpenter; and meetings with Eric Oey, head of Tuttle, premier English-language publisher for East Asia.

Along the way we’ve published an Anthology of members’ writings and run a Competition aimed at representing Kyoto in a fresh way in 300 words. The winning entries have been posted on our website as well as published in our Anthology. We know we’ll never be as big as our parent organisation (220 members to our 42), and in comparison to its 26 years we are but a child of four, but let us hope that in some way we have achieved something of which our parent organisation may be proud. After all, unlike the dreaming aspirers of Oxford, we strive to make the English language flower within the rock gardens of Japaneseness.

For a paper on the similarities of the two cities, please see ‘Oxford and Kyoto: Mirror Images?‘

Conditions and terms for this year’s Anthology and Competition will be announced in the coming weeks. The Anthology is open to paid-up members only; the Competition is open to all.

Happy WiKkers at the 2017 end of year party. Garden expert Mark Hovane, Kyoto Journal editor Ken Rodgers, Japan Times journalist Eric Johnston, pottery expert Robert Yellin, and Competition Organiser / blogger Karen Lee Tawarayama

Writers in focus

DIY Publishing (Gupta)

August 13, 2018

Anuradha Gupta is an Indian living in London who decided to publish her own book. In the following interview she shares with Writers in Kyoto how she went about producing her own personally illustrated collection of poems without any previous knowledge or expertise.

What made you want to publish your own book?

In January 2013 I witnessed a road accident in London in which a motorcyclist was killed. It was totally shocking and lingered in my mind. Amongst the memorial letters left at the site was one from the motorcyclist’s wife saying he had never had the chance to live his dream. It made me rethink priorities in life and get on with what mattered most to me. I had written some poems and thought they would make a fitting legacy for my daughters. So I set about making them into a book which would be treasured.

The book is wonderfully illustrated. How did that come about?

I knew I had some talent as a painter but I lacked experience, so I took on an art teacher to help me produce work suited to the poetry. With her help I managed to get the kind of illustrations I wanted.

What was the next step?

I visited a few independent printers in London and asked to see samples of their work. But I found them expensive and uninspiring. Then I remembered the offset printing (using colour plates) that my company had been involved with in India. I was recommended to a high quality printer in Hyderabad and rang them up. I explained my situation and my intentions, and they were very helpful.  I’d already decided a square shape would be most suitable, and with the printer we settled on 200 GSM [measurement of the thickness of the paper] because I wanted a luxurious and beautifully crafted coffee-table style. The price was one-third that of London!

How about the cover?

For the cover and layout I found a graphic designer to work with. Some of her suggestions were not as I wanted, so I did my own version using the traditional cut-and paste method. I showed her my idea and she converted it into digital form. As for the cover,  I chose not to have a dust cover because they usually get torn and over time look tattered. Instead I wanted it printed on canvas. When we finished everything, the graphic designer formatted it all into print-ready copy and sent it off to the printer.

How did you decide on the number of copies?

The printer had a minimum of 200 copies. Being optimistic, I decided on 500. The printer said there was no difference in price between 1000 copies and 500, so I naturally decided on that. In retrospect it was a mistake because I hadn’t reckoned on the shipping cost, which was expensive.

What was your reaction on seeing the finished product?

The 1000 copies arrived some three and a half months after I first conceived the project. It was amazingly fast, because I literally worked morning to night every day. I was delighted with the result because the printer had really done a great job. 10 out of 10. Each copy was individually wrapped in polythene and looked beautiful. But I was horrified by all the boxes!

How about the marketing and distribution?

First I sent some off to friends and gave away some promotion copies. I went to a writers conference where I sold 19 copies. It was in late autumn and I had a book launch in mhy house and invited all my friends. That resulted in 35 copies sold in one night, which was great. In winter when schools hold Xmas Fairs, I rang some up and was able to book tables for about £25 a day (¥3500). The schools took 5% commission, and generally I was able to sell about ten to fifteen copies. I’d already decided to give the sales money to a charity important to me, so some people were attracted by that and wanted to talk about it.

I created a website to showcase some of my poems along with my other writing. I also visited bookshops, though not with much success as the standard reaction was that poetry doesn’t sell. Independent bookstores and the local Waterstone’s were more friendly. The best result was actually a gift shop, which made me realise that it could best be marketed  as a present rather than a work of literature.

So what was the final result in terms of sales?

I priced it at £10 (¥1300), which seemed to be the market rate. The total cost of production was something like £2300 (¥325,000) which meant in theory I only needed to sell 230 books. However, book shops can take a third to a half of the price, so realistically I’d actually need to sell roughly 500 books. So far I have sold about 250 and given away almost 100 copies.

What’s your feeling generally about the project?

Although I’ve made a small loss financially, I’m more than satisfied with the result because I feel I’ve left something meaningful as a legacy for my family. If I did it all again, I’d be a bit more realistic about the costs and also about housing boxes of books.

Finally, do you have any advice for others who would like to go down the same path?

Yes,  I’d suggest visiting five to seven printers, as well as investigating overseas options. It’s important to find one that you can trust and whose previous products you like. They often have in-house designers too. Don’t be afraid to ask questions, as people are glad to share their expertise. Above all, don’t lose your vision! There were several points at which it would have been easy to compromise because of cost or advice, but I was able to insist on what I first wanted and I’m really glad I did because once you have the finished product you can’t change it. It’s up to you to make your dream come true.

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For Anu’s website, where you can see sample illustrations and poems, click here.

For the amazon page, click here.

For a small sample of Anu’s poems set along those of WiK member A.J. Dickinson, see here.

 

Writers in focus

Introducing Milena Guziak

August 8, 2018

1) Please tell us something about your background and how you come to be in Japan?

I was born in Poland (Kędzierzyn-Koźle) in 1982 and grew up during the harsh reality of political transition, social transformation, and dysfunctional economy characteristic for that time. My childhood memories and accounts of my parents during communist rule and Soviet dominance have been with me ever since. When Poland became a member state of European Union in 2004, with some financial help from my family and friends I decided to emigrate to the UK. After a few years of earning my keep first as an industrial cleaning staff and then as a laboratory technician, I made up my mind to reenter higher education in the field of chemistry. My master`s course provided me with an opportunity for an internship in Japan through the Vulcans in Japan Programme. After my graduation from Nottingham Trent University, I decided to pursue my doctoral studies at Tohoku University upon receiving a scholarship. Having said all that, I feel an urge to emphasize the difference between what one HAS and one IS.

Lost in a land of cultural unknowns
Repertoire of my forgoing existence dissolved
They – with relish of those new splendors
In continued rummage through drawers of values
Ceased to be they
Unwilling to desist to be they
No one to turn to

Amidst the moments of levity
Amidst the moments of solemnity
Amidst the moments of solitude
Amidst the moments of endurance
Amidst the storm of identities
Amidst the moments of friction
No one to turn to

Wandering westward
Wandering eastward

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2) What kind of writing do you do, and why?

As part of my education, I was partially trained to write scientific papers. In terms of creative writing, it is therapeutic. I have no prior training or knowledge on how to write poems. The most honest answer would be that creative writing is one big experiment. I am not writing to impress or please anyone. And there are some short written reflections on various subjects.

From under the ruin of confusion,
Building up slowly,
Rising to grab peeping sunrays of ephemeral certainty.
Hold on to it!
A transformation came to be.

From under the rocks of fear,
Climbing up to the summit of calmness,
Let yourself go!
Liberation came to be.

Ploughing through the mud of self-deception,
Sublimation came to be.

Oh! A new existence came to be.

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3) Your blog is written in four different languages. Could you explain the reason for that and what the advantages or disadvantages are?

I often find that what I cannot express through one language I can express through another. What I can express through sounds of musical instruments I cannot express through guiding forces of a paint brush or pencil. It is not to say that each of these exist separately – no, they coexist in one space of joint influence. No written words of mine could exist without silence. No written words of mine could exist without an artist putting his heart into creating sounds that I happen to hear.

In terms of what I understand as my reality, all the languages have played an important role in shaping it thus my identity. They have contributed to creating some sort of supportive network/system, which allows for an ongoing learning process.

There are things that I struggle with – writing takes time, some spelling and pronunciations mistakes due to, for instance similarities or differences between given two languages; however, I cannot see any long-term disadvantages.

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4) What is your proudest moment so far in terms of your writing path (career)?

I do feel happiness in my heart that I was able to partially overcome an internal barrier that has been present for years and prevented me from transmitting my emotions and articulating my ideas in both spoken and written language.

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5) Please tell us about your current projects and what you hope for in future?

I have a few projects going on at this point of time. In terms of my research, I will be attending three conferences that I hope will bear fruit in the form of three post-conference publications. One of the projects I wish to complete next year is a book written in Polish on the subject of moral quiescence towards suffering of non-human animals. The book will give an account of a child`s perspectives on this issue and will depict a conflict between two worlds: a child’s and that of adults. In addition, as an independent project, I am at the initial stage of developing a science book for ESL learners. In May of this year, I embarked on Academic Life Coaching training; because the training has been having a transformative effect on my life, I put forward a proposal of translating the teaching materials into Japanese to my coach trainer. In future, I hope for both personal and professional growth in the realm of my writing and teaching career.

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6) Finally, how do you think you might benefit from Writers in Kyoto, and what do you think you can contribute?

It is evident to me that the WiK group is made of writers of various knowledge and writing interests. The fact the group would accept a novice like myself evinces its inclusive mind-set.

The range of benefits is wide to my view: networking, advice on professional issues, sharing information on the publishing procedures, participation in events, publishing opportunities, sharing life-experiences through written language. Against all of the above, I feel I have not enough to offer: my presence at times, my ideas at times, and my words at times. Perhaps, the group will help me to finally lower the anchor of my existence.

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To see Milena’s blog, please click here.

Writers in focus

Literary festival (Devon, UK)

July 17, 2018

Ways with Words (at Dartington Hall, Totnes, UK)
by John Dougill

For the past week I’ve been attending a literary gathering deep in the Devon countryside. Medieval buildings, beautiful grounds, gorgeous countryside and Britain’s finest residential festival, with ten days of simultaneous talks by the country’s top selling authors. This year coincided with a spell of constant sunshine, the finals of Wimbledon and the end games of the World Cup – an overabundance of riches that presented awkward choices.

Japanese Buddha in Dartington gardens

As was often the case with Britain’s aging estates, Dartington was rescued from destitution by American money in the 1920s. Under the influence of Indian poet Rabindranath Tagore, friend of the new owners, it became an exciting artistic and ecological hub, later achieving wider fame for its excellence as a music school. Now the grounds host the influential Schumacher College (Gaia theory and ‘small is beautiful’), whose leading light Satish Kumar has given talks in Kyoto in recent years. It’s not the only Japanese connection. There’s an extremely rare species of cherry tree, so rare in fact that it survived here even when it had died out in Japan, and in the decommissioned churchyard there is now a ‘Zen meditation garden’ of rocks and raked gravel.

Literary festivals have become immensely popular in recent years, and virtually every literate community has one. Yet writers giving talks is an odd phenomenon, since many authors write books precisely because they wish to avoid product promotion and public performance. Writing is a solitary business, and there may be good reason for choosing such a lifestyle. On the other hand, there are plenty of writers for whom books are more of a sideline with their main source of income coming from outgoing professions such as academic, journalist, celebrity or entertainer.

Waiting for Godot… the audience gathers in the Great Hall for the next speaker

Given the above, it comes as no surprise that there was a great variety of presentation methods, from the reading aloud of a typed paper, to the use of notes, to free style talking around a series of book extracts, to complete spontaneity. Some were done in academic style, some in personal style, some tended towards the theatrical, and one in particular resembled a Japanese ‘talento’, complete with dyed hair, wacky clothes, overacting and audience participation. (The talk was on the nature of consciousness and whether the self was an illusion!)

On an afternoon walk through the woods, I pondered whether there were lessons to be drawn. Much of course has to do with the power of personality, but there are some aspects over which speakers can exercise control. Take the use of power point, for example. One speaker illustrated nearly every point with high-quality visuals, but the result was merely distracting because of the difficulty of taking in details with the eye at the same time as concentrating on the complexities of the spoken word. Ironically the talk would have been better without all the time spent on accumulating the illustrations. By contrast other speakers used merely one or two visuals in their talk, but spent time drawing attention to significant aspects. This worked particularly well, for it brought out extra meaning rather than simply being decorative.

The rare species of Japanese cherry tree

Another format that proved successful was the interview session, in which an informed interviewer, armed with close reading of a book, teases out from the author interesting insights and personal revelations. This puts the onus for preparation on the interviewer rather than the author, which seems only right. (It touches too on the question of whether writers should get paid for their time when giving talks, and the Society of Authors is currently running a campaign along those lines. Writers in Kyoto too tries to pay an honorarium for speakers.)

The best of the talks as far as I was concerned, and certainly the most entertaining, was on a subject in which I had no interest and by an author of whom I knew nothing – Caroline of Ansbach by Matthew Dennison. It was in the beautiful setting of the Great Hall, and as it followed lunch I thought it might make for a pleasant snooze. It turned out though that the presenter had prepared well – either that or he had done the talk many times previously, for instead of reading out his text he would glance down at it, sometimes reading a sentence from a new paragraph and then improvising on the theme. This gave his talk ‘wings’ as he was able to take off on unrehearsed passages that allowed his enthusiasm to show through. A potentially dry subject was brought to life with jokes and a light touch, and only at the end of a fascinating talk did I realise that for a whole year of my life I’d passed every day beneath a statue of the said Caroline, for as the wife of George II she had been benefactress and second founder of the Oxford college I attended. (She  stands now regally in a cupola above the entrance of Queen’s on Oxford High Street.)

Due to the exceptionally fine weather, I was lured to take a long walk in the rolling hills which reminded me once again of the value of solitary walking for creative thought. Stimulated by the talks I’d attended, I found ideas bobbing up unwilled as I paced along riverside pathways. The inspiration that derives from walking seems to have much to do with the state of mind induced by the easy-going pace together with the hypnotic repetition of unhurried steps. It’s a subject touched on previously on this website, and it’s one well worth revisiting. Walking is surely the best antidote to writer’s block, and through the articulation of unformed ideas comes the true joy of creation. It is as if one taps into a different self.

Walk on through the wind,
Walk on through the rain,
Though your dreams be tossed and blown,
Walk on with hope in your heart,
And you’ll never walk alone
You’ll never walk alone.

All this raises the question of whether Writers in Kyoto will one day be able to put on some kind of a literary festival. It’s worth thinking about, particularly if we were able to collaborate with sister organisations such as the Kyoto Journal, Kansai Swet or the annual Japan Writers Conference. One simple format that might suit our purposes would be to have short readings by a panel of three or four WiK writers with shared interests – Kyoto, poetry, fiction, for example. In this way we can aim to bring the words off the page and invest them with new meaning for a live audience. If we can combine this with the exceptionally talented musicians who support us, we could provide a setting of inspirational improvisation in which words grow wings and take flight -– a literary festival worthy of being added to the city’s rich heritage of festivals!

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For an essay on the relationship of walking and writing, click here.

The Japanese ‘Zen meditation garden’ built in the churchyard of the decommissioned church

Writers in focus

Nicholas Teele interview

July 13, 2018

Please tell us a little about your upbringing and your relationship with Japan.

I was born in Colorado and grew up in a family that loved nature, storytelling, and the fine arts. Between 1948 and 1960, my parents were educational missionaries. We were first in China and then in Japan. We arrived in Japan early in 1950 (when I was five). It was the time of the Allied Occupation, which officially lasted until 1952, although the Allied military presence remained strong for a while after that because of the Korean War. The environment was diverse, culturally rich, and international. In 1960 we returned to the United States because of my mother’s illness.


Please tell us something about your writing career.

In my twenties I read and wrote voraciously and occasionally published poetry or short fiction in small literary magazines. Started translating as an undergraduate (one result was Meadow of Stars, by Eiji Shono, tr. Roy Teele, Nick Teele, and Yoko Sugiyama. Rironsha, 1970). 
Started writing tanka (short poems) in English in the early 1970s and it has been my main poetic form ever since. In the 1990s, I published in online journals and communities and in the journals of the Tanka Society of America and The Japan Tanka Poets’ Society (Nihon Kajin Club), but virtually stopped when administrative duties became too heavy. Academic writing has been mostly in the areas of classical Japanese and comparative literature, and ESL. Translation work, too, pretty much stopped after 1993, and has only recently restarted.

Which book has been your proudest achievement, and why?

Ono no Komachi, Poems, Stories, Noh Plays (tr. Roy, Rebecca, and Nicholas Teele. Garland, 1993). My father died in 1985 without having completed a book of translations of Noh plays he had been working on. My sister and I selected the ones featuring the 9th century poet Ono no Komachi, expanded the concept to include her poetry, and two medieval stories and a modern Noh play about her, and completed the work he had started. It was an honor to be able to accomplish that.

What are you currently working on?

I have three projects that I want to finish in the next few years. The first is the translation of a book by Hayashi Nozomu on the Shin-hanga artist Kawase Hasui. It will be published by Kawade in 2020. 
 The next project to be finished is a book on the Hyakunin Isshu, an anthology of poetry compiled in the 13th century. Rather than translate the poems, I define and explain the words, phrases, structure, and background of each poem, and also provide information about the poets and the times they lived, so that people who do not know Japanese can understand the meaning and some of the contexts involved, and make their own translations. This should be finished next year.

The third project is to complete a book on the Saikoku Sanjusansho Kannon Pilgrimage. The first draft of this book, completed about twenty years ago, is an account of my experiences when I first visited the thirty-three temples on the route in numerical order. Although focusing on Kannon Bosatsu, these experiences inevitably involved the sacredness of place. On subsequent pilgrimage to the temples, I have tried to better understand the elements that are involved in expressing this sacredness of place, and have expanded my research to include guidebooks to the pilgrimage and commentaries on the temple poems (goeika) written before the separation of Buddhism and Shinto in the early Meiji period. My goal is to better identify and understand the elements that work together in expressing the sacredness of place which exists at each of the temples, and in the pilgrimage as a whole.

What would you say are the benefits and disadvantages of living in Kyoto? 


Perhaps the main benefit of living in Kyoto is that it is a powerful hub of traditional Japanese history, culture, and spirituality, and an unparalleled treasure trove. In addition, with hills on three sides, the exquisite quiet side of nature is never far away. In spite of “progress” Kyoto is a beautiful city, with a stimulating mixture of old and new. (I actually live midway between Kyoto and Nara.)

How did you get to be president of Doshisha Women’s College, and what challenges did you face?

I was elected. (In elections for president at the college, faculty and staff vote to select someone from among faculty with the rank of professor. There are no pre-announced candidates. If no one receives a majority of the votes, faculty members vote to select the president from the two people who received the most votes.) It was not a position I aspired to. I served one three-year term (at the end of which I was 65 and not eligible for reelection). The college staff was outstanding and was very supportive, as were the faculty. Fortunately there were no major problems. The greatest challenge was trying to balance opposing views, remain neutral, and be fair.

For Nicholas Teele’s academic papers on Researchgate see here and on academic.org see here.

For a listing of the books with which Nicholas has been involved as editor or translator, see this page on Goodreads.

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About Writers in Kyoto

Writers in Kyoto is a group of published and self-published English-language authors working or living in the city. It is run on a membership basis and its purpose is for writers to help each other by creating opportunities for promotion, book launches, readings, the exchange of information, and social events. Read more

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