謹賀新年 – HAPPY NEW YEAR 2015

   There is a traditional New Year's decoration in Japan called a kadomatsu [門松], which literally means “gate pine”. They are placed in pairs at the entrance to the home to welcome ancestral harvest spirits or kami. A core of three bamboo shoots cut to different lengths is decorated typically with pine and other plant materials depending on the region. Just as traditional Japanese Ikebana is based on three branches of different lengths, the bamboo shoots in a kadomatsu are cut on an angle to three different lengths that represent heaven, man and earth with heaven being the highest and earth the lowest.

   Not being particularly traditionalist we decided to play around with combining the kadomatsu concept and Ikebana. While walking in the wooded area around our house a few days ago we cut a type of Magnolia branch that was still in the early bud phase to use with a bamboo shoot that I had cut a few weeks ago. We decided to do the arrangement this morning in time for the New Year. After cutting some Nandina berries on another walk in the neighborhood we decided to do the arrangement without any vases since a vase would have detracted from the simplicity and the Magnolia wouldn't bloom this early anyhow. A notch cut into the bamboo served as a small water reservoir for the Nandina berries. The rest is free standing and balanced on the two main elements.

bamboo shoot, Magnolia branch and Nandina berries

Winter Solstice

There's a raw chill in the air, 

the sun is hazy and distant,

 the wind howls in the bare tree branches

 and whips across your face

 and through your clothes. 

But not today. 

Walking in the mountains

 on a relatively mild day, 

the world seems to hold its breath

 as the Earth teeters on the brink

 at its maximum distance

 from the magnetic pull of old Sol.

 Here there is no tinsel

 or jingling bells; 

the riotous reds and mellow yellows of fall

 have fallen in heaps of dried browns and grays; 

a few spiky stalks of pampas grass

 stand determinedly against a leaden sky

 and the watery sparkles of a cloud-dimmed sun.

 A banana

 seems especially sweet

  out of doors

 on a winter afternoon.

Happy Aphelion

A little different seasonal greeting 

to welcome the planet back 

from the farthest point in its annual journey 

around our beloved Sun, and 

the shortest day of the year.

nandina berries and pothus leaf

A bit of trivia for you...

Christmas (the "birth" of Christ) 

is an arbitrary date chosen 

to coincide with the Winter Solstice (aphelion) celebrations of ancient peoples 

who needed a celebration to dispel 

the depression and gloom of 

long, cold, dark winter nights.

Update 12/23/2014:

       One can find much speculation about the origin of the Christmas story and it's symbolic relation to Sun (Son) worship in older religions. 

       The idea isn't to debunk Christianity, but to see it as a continuity with the whole spectrum of human speculation about our origins and relationship to our universe. I agree with a friend of mine who finds that continuity fascinating and reassuring. There is an interesting (unprovable, of course) relationship between Christianity and Mithraism for example:

       “Mithra (Sun-God) is believed* to be a Mediator between God and man, between the Sky and the Earth. It is said* that Mithra or [the] Sun took birth in the Cave on December 25th. It is also the belief of* the Christian world that Mithra or the Sun-God was born of [a] Virgin. He traveled far and wide. He has twelve satellites, which are taken as the Sun's disciples.... [The Sun's] great festivals are observed in the Winter Solstice and the Vernal Equinox—Christmas and Easter. His symbol is the Lamb...."

Swami Prajnanananda, Christ the Saviour and Christ Myth

[*My emphasis]

       I think it isn't really a question of belief or faith, but an intuitive connection with the full panoply of human thought, emotion and existence from ancient to our own times. 

Rudolph say: Happy Holidays One and All

Killing Time

      Looking for a killer opening line...something not too overtly pretentious, grabs the attention, but can't think of a damn thing! The synapses aren't snapping and crackling the way they used to. Soon to be 73 and wondering what I'm still doing here. Staying alive—since the alternative doesn't seem all that attractive in the absence of a terminal illness. But, no, that is far too cynical, even for me, and not even very funny. Still, the question does pose itself, especially in the whirlpool depths of insomniac nights.

the Leaning Tower of Burano

       Recently, a younger 40-something creative guy asked me what I do with my time. People of that age can't imagine what not having to get up at the crack of dawn, stumble around in the semi-dark, swallow some breakfast that you aren't even hungry for and then lurch off to earn your daily bread is like. True, that. Still, the question caught me off guard and I just shrugged. “Hobbies. Just chilling?”, he asked. The implication is: “What do you do with all that time on your hands?” It's a fair question, I have to admit.


       True, it's a fact, if your in your seventies, you do have a lot of time. In fact, time is really all you have. Come to think of it, time is really all any of us have. What we do with it is what differentiates one from another. Our conditioning tells us that we should be doing something productive with our time, accomplishing something. What that usually means is that we should be getting compensation for the production and accomplishment, generally in the form of monetary remuneration. The bigger the remuneration, the greater the accomplishment. In other words, one is not wasting one's time.


       If, however, you are in your seventies, by that definition you have a lot of time to waste since you aren't likely to get any impressive remuneration for your productive capacity and efforts. And why would you want the hassle of running the rat race all over again to gain more remuneration if you're comfortable without it? I would consider that “wasting” what time I have left.


       In an otherwise silly formulaic romantic comedy of the boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy finds girl again or vice versa variety, there was a good line. Daughter asks widowed father why he surrounds himself with several “girlfriends” instead of choosing just one. He responds that no one could replace her mother and now he's just fooling around, “killing time”, presumably until he can rejoin her. It's a cliché, but it's very pleasant to kill time: time to “smell the roses”, take a walk in the mountains on a sunny afternoon, getaway to a hot spring in the winter with the snow falling on your bare shoulders, experiment with the creative pursuits that delight you... And, yes, think wistfully about the twilight years, wondering, occasionally, when and how it will all finally end.

       But until then, I'm just killing time.

Paris: Indignant con woman caught in the act.

She drops a ring on the ground near you, approaches,

and asks if it's yours to get close enough

to pick your pocket. This mark took her

ring and walked off with it, with her, angrily, in hot pursuit.