Red Camelias

The red Camelia (Jp: tsubaki 椿) bush in my yard. Taken this morning.

赤椿咲し真下へ落ちにけり

Aka-tsubaki sakishi mashita e ochinikeri

“The red camelia falls directly to the ground.”

Haiku by Katō Kyōtai (加藤暁台, 1732 – 1792), found in the app “72 Seasons

Sugawara no Michizane: from scholar to god

Photo of my two Thundercloud plum trees currently in bloom

Shinto religion in Japan is a loose network of diverse traditions and local deities (kami), and one of the most unusual, and popular, kami is Tenjin, the god of learning. Tenjin is unusual because he is a deified version of an actual historical figure named Sugawara no Michizane who lived in the 9th and 10th centuries. Sugawara no Michizane (and his deification as Tenjin) are considered an archetypal scholar, poet and Confucian.

Sugawara no Michizane was a scholar from a middle-ranked noble family in the Heian Period (9th-12th c.), but under Emperor Uda, he unexpectedly rose to a high rank as a close advisor. This drew of the wrath of the rival, powerful Fujiwara family, who engineered Michizane’s downfall and exile to the remote town of Dazaifu. It was on parting his home, that Michizane reputedly wrote this poem (his most famous):

東風吹かば Kochi fukaba
匂ひおこせよ Nioi okoseyo
梅の花 Ume no hana
主なしとて Aruji nashi tote
春を忘るな Haru wo wasuruna

When the east wind blows, let it send your fragrance, oh plum blossoms. Although your master is gone, do not forget the spring.

Translation by Robert Borgen in “Sugawara no Michizane and the Early Heian Court”

For this reason, plum blossoms are closely associated with Michizane and Tenjin. Another story relates how after Michizane died in Dazaifu, the ox pulling his funeral cart stopped at one point, and refused to go any further. Thus, that site became the site of his burial and later the Dazaifu Tenman-gū shrine. For this reason, oxen are also associated with Michizane.

But how did Michizane go from a talented (though perhaps not necessarily a genius) scholar and poet into a deity? The answer lies in Sugawara no Michizane’s exile. Soon after Michizane’s death in exile a series of natural disasters and untimely deaths befell the capitol, and people began to attribute these to Michizane’s wrathful spirit.1 To placate this vengeful spirit, the Imperial Court reinstated his original rank, promoted him, and instituted elaborate rituals and offerings. But this took on a life of its own and over time, worship of “Tenjin” became popular across all of Japan.

These days, Tenmangū (天満宮) shrines devoted to Tenjin are particularly popular around entrance-exam season. People will pile on supplications to Tenjin in hopes of success.

Votive tablets or ema (絵馬) taken by author at Yushima Tenmangu shrine in 2010.

I have visited Yushima Tenmangu shrine in Tokyo some years back when I was studying for the JLPT N3 exam (spoiler alert: I passed), and it was one of my favorite Shinto shrines.

Inner-sanctum of Yushima Tenmangu shrine, taken by author in 2010.

As a nerd and amateur scholar, I’ve always felt a special connection to Michizane and the concept of a “scholar god”, so coming there was a fun experience. In 2023, I visited the Kitano Tenmangū shrine in Kyoto as well. Sadly, I failed the JLPT N1 exam this time around.

Sugawara no Michizane / Tenjin is a curious but fascinating figure in Japanese cultural history. In Robert Borgen’s excellent book Sugawara no Michizane and the Early Heian Court, he points out that in the end Sugawara no Michizane wasn’t that extraordinary a poet, scholar or teacher, but through a somewhat lucky (or unlucky) series of events, he rose to become the archetypal deity of learning and education. In the Muromachi Period of Japanese history, he was the archetypal Zen scholar-monk, in the Edo Period, he was the archetypal Confucian scholar, while in the early-modern Meiji Period, which reasserted the primacy of Shinto religion, his worship as a full-fledged Shinto deity matured.

Sugawara no Michizane, the historical figure, was an interesting man, faults and all. But as Tenjin, the god of learning, he came to embody all the ideals of Japanese culture, suitable for each time and period, which persist today.

1 This was not entirely unusual at the time (cf. Prince Sawara a couple centuries earlier). Also, the Shinto kami, Susano-o, is another example of a deity that required placation, but is now seen more as a benevolent deity these days. Time heals all wounds, I guess. ;p

Scattered Blossoms

Blossoms from the Thundercloud Plum tree in my yard with sky in the background
Blossoms from the Thunderhead Plum tree in my yard.

96) 花さそふ Hana sasou
あらしの庭の Arashi no niwa no
雪ならで Yuki nara de
ふりゆくものは Furi yuku mono wa
わが身なりけり Wa ga mi narikeri

It entices the flowers—
the storm—but through the garden’s white,
it is not snow,
and what it is that’s scattering
are, in fact, the years of my life!

translation by Professor Mostow

The two Thundercloud Plum trees in my yard have started blooming again this year, but already the blossoms have scattered in the wind and rain. At times like this I am reminded of this poem (more details in my other blog) from the famous Hyakunin Isshu poetry anthology, as well as this poem in same anthology written centuries earlier by a lady of the court named Ōno no Komachi:

6) 花の色は Hana no iro wa
うつりにけりな Utsuri ni keri na
いたづらに Itazura ni
わが身世にふる Waga mi yo ni furu
ながめせしまに Nagame seshi ma ni

The color of flowers
has faded indeed
in vain
have I passed through the world
while gazing at the falling rains.

translation by Professor Mostow

I’ll post more about my favorite scholar/poet Sugawara no Michizane soon. Until then, enjoy!

Spring Drowsiness

pink flowers on trees
Photo by Oleg Magni on Pexels.com

Recently, my wife and I were talking about how lately we’ve been feeling extra drowsy and lethargic, and she reminded me of a famous Chinese poem from the Tang Dynasty that is often quoted in Japanese culture as a figure of speech:

春眠暁を覚えず
shunmin akatsuki wo oboezu

This phrase can be loosely translated as “while sleeping through the Spring morning”.

The original poem, titled “Spring Dawn” (春曉 Chūn Xiǎo) was composed by Chinese poet Mèng Hàorán (689/691–740, 孟浩然) in the Tang Dynasty. In Japanese he was called mōkōnen.  The original poem is:

春眠不覺曉   Chūn mián bù jué xiǎo
處處聞啼鳥。chùchù wén tíniǎo
夜來風雨聲,Yè lái fēngyǔ shēng
花落知多少。Huā luò zhī duōshǎo

Further, in Japanese this is translated as:

春眠暁を覚えず shunmin akatsuki wo oboezu
処処に啼鳥と聞く sho sho ni teichō to kiku
夜来風雨の声 yarai fūu no koe
花落つること hana otsuru koto
知んぬ多少ぞ shinnu tashōzo

But most people in Japan only know the first line, and that is enough to evoke the popular image of a hazy, lazy Spring morning. Hence, it is often quoted as a phrase.

In English, one translation I’ve seen (among others) is:

I slumbered this spring morning, and missed the dawn,
From everywhere I heard the cry of birds.
That night the sound of wind and rain had come,
Who knows how many petals then had fallen?

After all the craziness of winter holidays, getting through snow storms and being shut in at home, it’s so nice to finally relax with warm weather, sunlight and seeing Nature wake up again! No wonder people get drowsy in Spring! 🙂

1 The Tang Dynasty, in addition to being one of the most powerful and dynamic in Chinese history, had a huge, huge impact on Japanese culture, especially during the Nara and Heian Period. The court aristocracy of Kyoto was deeply influenced by cultural trends in Tang Dynasty China, as was Buddhism at the time (and even beyond).

Even Cherry Blossoms Get Old

Recently, I found this post on Twitter:

The haiku in question, written by the famous poet Kobayashi Issa, reads as:

或時は花の都にも倦にけり
aru toki wa hana no miyako ni mo aki nikeri

I think there’s a powerful truth to this poem, even if it’s a bit tongue-in-cheek too: even the most pleasant joyous things we experience in our lives get old.

I like a good pizza, but if I eat pizza every day, I will get tired of it.  I like playing old-school video games, but if I play them all the time, I get burned out and my body doesn’t feel good since I’ve been sitting too long.  The thrills of life get old.

Anything we enjoy in life is best done in moderation, and oftentimes it’s best to let go if the amount of effort put into it is not worth the return.  It’s easy to forget this when you’re deep in the weeds, so take a minute to step back, breathe deep and take stock.

Life is short, and it’s important to make good use of one’s time before one goes old and too feeble to do anything about it anymore.

P.S.  I have two plum trees outside my door, and I love it when they blossom, but then I get annoyed by all the garbage they leave behind when the blossoms fall.  I suppose that’s a related metaphor, too.  ;p

P.P.S.  I have been to Chion-in temple above in the past a couple times and it is still dear to me in many ways.  More on that in a future post.

Gone Before You Know It

bloom blooming blur branch
Photo by Tookapic on Pexels.com

Now that the miserable long winter here in the Pacific Northwest is becoming a faded memory (not to mention unusually persistent this year), Spring is finally here!  At times like these I love to go back and re-read poems from the famous Japanese anthology, the Hyakunin Isshu.

In particular, one of my favorite is this poem:

久方の Hisakata no
光のどけき hikari no dokeki
春の日に haru no hi ni
しづ心なく shizu gokoro naku
花のちるらむ hana no chiruran

Which Professor Mostow’s translates in Pictures of the Heart as:

In these spring days
with the tranquil light encompassing
The four directions
why should the blossoms scatter
with uneasy hearts?

The last two lines in particular bear particular attention because while the poem is a celebration of Spring in many ways, it also has a bittersweet tone to it because the blossoms are gone before you know it.  I don’t know if it fully comes out in the English translation, but it definitely seems to come out in Japanese.

Life is really short, and like the blossoms of Spring, it has a lot of pretty and wonderful things in it, but we’re so busy plodding along, going about our business, that we don’t take the time to appreciate them because we feel there’s always tomorrow.  However, the poem reminds us that there may not be a tomorrow.

Further, if I put on my Buddhist hat, it’s also reminder that since life is short, getting hung up on all the pretty things in life might not always be worth it either.  Like the blossoms, I am gradually withering and getting older, and time is not something to squander.  I need to pick my battles, determine what matters most to me, and not get distracted by the rest.

Since today happens to be the Buddhist holiday in Japan of Ohigan, when the seasons are more mild and people can afford the time to renew their commitment to the Buddhist path, it’s also a great time to take stock of these things while getting some much needed vitamin D.

Namo Shakyamuni Buddha
Namo Amitabha Buddha

Spring Fever

Warm weather has finally arrived! I wanted to post an old poem from my other blog here to celebrate:

久方の Hisakata no
光のどけき hikari no dokeki
春の日に haru no hi ni
しづ心なく shizu gokoro naku
花のちるらむ hana no chiruran

Porter’s translation is:

THE spring has come, and once again
The sun shines in the sky;
So gently smile the heavens, that
It almost makes me cry,
When blossoms droop and die.

Happy Spring, everyone!