Notes From Me
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Monday, November 15, 2004
Last Saturday I went with friends up, over, through and up more mountains for three hours until we reached the place where esoteric Buddhism began. There in a Redwood forest is an immense Buddhist cemetary with about five hundred thousand various kinds of tombs (from the regular, Japanese rectangular gravemarker to intricate statues to monuments of gigantic proportions fronted by massive tori gates) all crowded amid the great trunks and thick ferns. Photos aren't allowed. The dank green air is accentuated by overhanging moss on the ancient stone structures. Many of the protector-deity statues have freshly crocheted caps in red or green or orange. Approaching one of the temples, we were greeted by huge wafts of incense smoke drifting out and making visible the occasional sunshafts. The place was first honored about twelve hundred years ago by a priest. There is also for some reason a place to ski far above the cemetary. Although all humans have a common ancestor, I still don't really know what it is like to live in the country where "my" ancestors lived. It is probably usual that people in my situation tend to deemphasize propriety of ancestry in favor of something along the lines of, "We are all related." On the way back we stopped at one of the oldest hot springs in Japan and relaxedly mineralized our skin under the night sky. It's mid-November and here the Christmas symbols are coming out. Of course, there is no Thanksgiving. People can be seen wearing Santa hats, and on the way to work this morning on my bike I saw a woman in an above-the-knee black skirt, garter-type opaque red stocking that attached under her hemline but above her calf-height black boots, and a faux-fur, short flared cloak with a white leopard pattern. It basically looked like, sexy winter Christmas yeah! happy thanksgiving.
posted by lux at 9:17 PM
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Define and Concur, wild like cloudlight The Writer
Wooden boats, musical instruments and fireworks are some of the best inventions. And cameras. I don't believe in following any one person or set of ideas. There are tiny satiations like orchids along the viny forest floor, blooming unseen, more gorgeous than some could keep from weeping over. Whenever I see the occasional sun rise the colors always surprise me like the flavor of tahini in Holland. Subway cars make great rhythm along the tracks, as does wind in treebranches, the sound pattern of running engines, and sometimes clothes in a dryer. I like Sumerian poetry. Archives
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