Sinai Cruz: Nagaoka Catholic Church

This semester, my CIP experience was a little rough, so even though this was not officially my CIP, I would like to write about my experience attending mass at the local parish, Nagaoka Catholic Church. Almost every week since I moved into my host family’s house, I would attend mass in Japanese from 11 AM-12 PM, the only mass offered on Sundays. One of the nice things about being Catholic is that the general structure and content of the mass will be the same no matter what country, or what language, it is being given in. However, every culture brings its own nuances and traditions, so I was very fortunate this semester to observe several uniquely Japanese Catholic practices over the course of these past few months.

For example, there is a part of the mass where the priest lifts up the Sacramental bread. In America during this part, one usually kneels, or in the absence of kneelers, such as in this church, one stands and inclines their head. However, in Japan, we did a deep bow towards the altar for a few seconds instead. As we all know, the degree of a bow establishes hierarchy and demonstrates respect. The particular bow used in this part of the mass hovered between a 普通礼、a polite bow, and a 最敬礼、a deeply reverent bow. Outside of religious environments, a saikeirei bow is generally only used with the emperor or when being deeply apologetic, while a futsuurei is much more commonly used in every day life with superiors. I found it interesting to notice how deeply people bowed during this part, though I generally opted for the saikeirei myself.

Another interesting tradition took place around two weeks ago, since November is Shichi-Go-San month. A young mother brought her sons to the mass to be blessed; both boys looked around seven (not a traditional boy’s year). Instead of traditional kimonos, they wore collared white shirts and loose black slacks. The priest read a special prayer for them and sprinkled them with Holy Water. I was very surprised that there was also a version of 7/5/3 celebrated in Japanese Catholicism, since I had thought it to be a traditional Shinto activity. However, as anyone who has been to a shrine this month can see, it is a tradition widely celebrated in Japan. Since the purpose of 7/5/3 is to thank God for the health and safety of the child, the tradition can obviously be adapted rather easily to different religious environments.

Lastly, I would like to talk about some of the language used between parishioners. In October, I was fortunate enough to be able to attend a church outing to the Kyoto Zoo. The priest offered to drive me and two older parishioners to the Zoo. While the elderly ladies always spoke to me, and between themselves, in casual form, they would switch suddenly to desu/masu form when talking to the priest, or when talking about the priest. Even though the priest was younger than them, because of his status as a priest, they spoke more politely to him. However, the priest would generally reply in regular, male, plain form, like 「知らね」. Using polite language with priests is the way it is back home as well, but usually a priest will also use polite language in reply, not casual. It was a little jarring to see how abruptly they could switch between speaking styles, so I was able to realize just how important it is to be able to distinguish between different social situations and how important it is to use desu/masu form or keigo with people of a higher social status.

Overall, as both a practicing Catholic and as a religion major, I was very fortunate to be able to find such a warm and welcoming Catholic community that allowed me to observe and participate in their Japanese Catholic traditions.

Nicolle Bertozzi: Kubota Birendo Sudare

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This semester for my Community Involvement Project, I have been working with the Kubotas, a family of Kyoto artisans who make sudare screens for private homes and temples. Once a week, I go to their shop near Shijo, where I learn about the craft of sudare making and, through conversations with the artisans themselves, about life as an artisan in one of the most historical cities in the world.

One of the things that has stood out most clearly to me through working with the Kubotas is how closely their line of work connects them with traditional culture of Japan. In a country as modernized as Japan, it can be difficult sometimes to find traces of the culture’s long and rich history. When I’ve asked Japanese friends about their exposure to some of the most known traditional elements of Japanese culture—the kinds of traditional elements like shodo calligraphy and sado tea ceremony that are often presented to foreigners during cultural exchange events—their responses are largely of non-interest. For the artisans of Kyoto, however, this is not the case. The very nature of their work forces them to confront the divide between traditional and modern lifestyles in Japan on a daily basis. And as a result of this, they often find themselves exploring other aspects of traditional culture, aspects that have no connection to their particular craft.

Through working with the Kubotas on my own sudare, through talking with them as I bound the bamboo together strip-by-strip with twisting threads, I found that our conversations often tended to drift to this topic. Over a cup of matcha tea one week, we wound up talking about the tradition of the tea ceremony, something that I had been asked to participate in for cultural exchange events many times but still knew next to nothing about. When I mentioned this, Shinji Kubota, the oldest son and next in line to inherit the family business, began to tell me about how working as an artisan had inspired him to study tea ceremony. Although most Japanese had very little interest in the ceremony, had never even experienced one themselves, he found the ceremony beautiful and has been studying it for many years. Mayu, Shinji’s younger sister, also mentioned how central their background as traditional artisans was in sparking their shared interest in the ceremony.

When I came in the next week, I found the tatami room cleared and prepared for a tea ceremony. A piece of calligraphy hung in the tokonoma, beneath which sat a flower arrangement. Water boiled away in a kettle over the fire of the sunken ro hearth. Shinji and Mayu took me through the ceremony, explaining how every proper tea ceremony had a theme, which the host decided upon and would then carefully select each utensil to match. Through inquiring about the particular calligraphy piece hanging in the tokonoma, for example, you would be able to work your way through the various connections it shared with the other utensils of the ceremony. This ability to appreciate details is one of the most important elements of the ceremony.

The care with which Shinji and Mayu then walked me through the ceremony was truly amazing. It was clear how much they respected the ceremony’s tradition, how much they wanted to do justice to its history. Which of course connects to the way they treated their own craft as well. Throughout this whole semester, I have noticed lots of very tiny ways in which the Kubotas honor the history and tradition of their craft. They explained to me, for example, how the natural darkening of bamboo material over time is something beautiful, something worth noticing and appreciating. Which I don’t think is something I would have thought about in that way before.

My time with the Kubotas this semester has broadened my understanding of traditional Japanese culture as it exists in the modern age. Through making my own sudare, I have come to appreciate the incredible level of craftsmanship that goes into the making and maintaining of these traditional crafts. And through exploring the connections that exist between those who are continuing Japan’s craft tradition and those who are carrying on other aspects of the traditional culture, I have come to see the degree to which these traditions are still very much alive, still being constantly innovated.

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Alexa Machnik: Art Restoration at ARC Ritsumeikan

As a first-timer in Japan, I was struck particularly by the wealth of art that surrounds Kyoto. Since my arrival, I have grown to appreciate the interactions of past and present artistic traditions, which in my opinion, have only further contributed to the city’s coinage as Japan’s great cultural repository. With this said, I have realized that the national treasures of this rich, art-embedded city could not have possibly thrived today without expertise in areas of art restoration, preservation and conservation—believe it or not, there is a difference! In short, I was determined to engage in the very discipline that firstly, initiated my interest in Japanese, and secondly, brought me to Kyoto. That discipline is none other than paper conservation. While formal conservation training in Kyoto normally requires a 10 year apprenticeship, my 1 year commitment abroad did not quite make the cut. Through the help of KCJS, however, what originally seemed as an impossible CIP became possible.

This semester, I was stationed with a small restoration team at Ritsumeikan University’s Art Research Center (ARC). ARC is currently undertaking a large-scale digitalization project entailing the compilation of Japanese cultural assets into accessible archives for researchers worldwide. In effort of this project, restorations are being made on paper-based materials ranging from woodblock prints (ukiyo-e ; 浮世絵) to illustrated bound books (wahon ; 和本). Due to poor storage conditions, these pieces have been eaten by insects and/or have suffered from severe deterioration. Through hands-on training and gained experience, I have developed an awareness of materials and preservation in Japan as well as acquired the patience necessary to safely handle and perform restorations on these Edo-period treasures. Furthermore, I have been able to indulge in the fine details of wahon and ukiyo-e print illustrations, all while improving my technical Japanese skills.

On my first day at ARC, I came prepared with a notebook expecting to observe restorations in the process. To my surprise, as I walked into the project room, I was promptly handed an apron and tweezers, led to a table equipped with a light-box, and sat down in front of a page from a damaged booklet. When I heard the words “honmono” (本物) and “renshu” (練習) in the same sentence, my hands froze…I mean, if you had heard that for your first “practice session” you would be restoring a “genuine article”, wouldn’t you have also had a similar reaction?…Nevertheless, this valuable method of instruction—no matter how cliché it must sound—allowed me learn directly from my mistakes. In connection with a class fieldtrip to a sudare bamboo blind workshop earlier in the semester, each student had the chance to weave a strip of bamboo into a sudare. By engaging in the process, each student “learned by doing”, which I have realized is a firm belief held not only by craftspeople in Japan, but also by restorers.

Over the semester, I worked primarily on worm-eaten booklets analyzing damage and infilling areas of loss with fibrous washi (和紙) paper. After applying homemade nori, which is a wheat-starch based adhesive, around the outline of the hole, a pre-cut piece of washi is set into place. The moisture from the nori expands the paper fibers, so the restored area must be placed between two pieces of cardboard under an iron weight until fully dry. The result: a wrinkle-free restoration. Due to this vital step, each hole must be patched one-by-one. From my abridged explanation, the restoration process must seem rather simple; however, tedious in nature, restoration is a committed job that requires concentration and careful attention to detail. For instance, I spend roughly 10 hours patching a single page, followed by another 4 hours searching for and reattaching small pieces that had fallen off. If anything, I feel as if I am solving a puzzle, and though frustrating at times, I have found much satisfaction in the process. While I am carrying out the same procedures, every restoration requires individual attention. In addition, I have also learned related tasks including the preparation of nori paste as well as the creation of traditional koyori exposed-bindings.

Outside of the classroom, my CIP experience has given me the opportunity to observe the Japanese language in a working environment. My relationship with the other workers has improved to the point where I am addressed very informally as “Are-chan”. However, when I receive a new project or when I am asked a favor of, I am always addressed with the formal title, “sama”. Although I find this unfit for my status as a student with little experience in restoration, these formalities embedded in the language reinforce the professionalism of the workplace.

In all, I am excited to continue my CIP into next semester. With a better handle of the Japanese language I will hopefully be able to further deepen my understanding of restoration principles in Japan, and how that contrasts with the West. As the project steadily progresses, I am also looking forward to seeing how my efforts have contributed to ARC and the greater Kyoto community.

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Close-up of a worm-eaten page from an illustrated booklet. Circled in red is the area of restoration. Can you tell the difference?

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Miscellaneous pieces without a home…yet!

Jennifer Wang: Band

This post officially marks the end of my CIP forever! It’s my second semester of CIP, with my first being a member in Doshisha’s piano circle. This semester, I’m the keyboardist for a band – called “ガールバンドパワー(GBP)” – along with Ife (vocalist), Shouko (bassist), Mako (drummer), and Noyuri (backup vocalist).We have a concert planned for the 17th of this month, for which we’re practicing a mix of Ife’s awesome songs and Japanese rock covers. 

Like i mentioned in my previous blog, I really didn’t know what to expect going in; I’ve done large string orchestras before, but never small, garage “rock” bands. Or, more accurately, studio bands since that’s what we rent and practice in. We started off at the nicer but pricey Studio 246 (where out concert will be held) in Shijo, but recently switched to the much smaller but cheaper Studio BURU. Studio BURU is only a 2-minute walk, literally across the street behind the Ryosinkan, and a single person practice room is only 500yen per hour, so I highly recommend it if you’re looking to practice piano (which I do), drums, or any other instrument that catches your interest! We planned to meet every week for an hour, but due to time conflicts, sometimes 2 or 3-hour makeup sessions happen.

As for the practice sessions themselves, they went surprisingly well. They’re a far cry from the stereotypical image of a drama-filled, crazy rock band, which I think is due to the combination of the Japanese members’ easygoing natures, other members’ past band experience, and Ife’s encouraging leadership. Ife dances around and tells us to let loose, but we tend to smile and laugh quietly; me because I’m nervous and the others, I assume, because they have more reserved natures characteristic of many Japanese people. I feel comfortable around everyone, but, just like in piano circle, I don’t feel particularly close to the Japanese members. Seeing Shoko in the hall today was the first time I’ve seen anyone outside of band practice, where we talk about the music 95% of the time. Although I spend more time with them than last semester’s piano circle members, I think it still requires more effort – LINEing regularly, inviting the Japanese person to activities – to become what they consider a friend, as opposed to more easy invitations in the US.

A key difference from piano circle is that I haven’t noticed the senpai-kohai relationship present. I’m not quite sure what year everyone is in and they’ve never asked me for mine, a question that I always got after meeting someone new in piano circle. Since the Japanese members were separate acquaintances of Ife, I’m not sure if the Japanese members know each other’s years in the band. But they’ve been speaking casually to each other from the start, so I assume it’s not as important in a small, less formal group. Just last week, when Noyuri came for the first time, despite initial introductions being in distal (-desu/-masu) form, Mako soon switched over to casual speech. Perhaps being in a band automatically creates what is, technically, an “in-group” of sorts? The lack of senpai-kohai relationships in the band makes me more comfortable interacting with everyone since I don’t have to worry about not fitting into that construct as a third year international student. Last semester in piano circle, I was stuck between being a senpai and a kohai: I’m a third year, but I’m also a study abroad student who’s never participated before in piano (or any) circle.

Overall, this semester I have learned less new aspects of Japanese culture than I have fleshed out what I learned last semester. I joined piano circle last semester purposely to get a feel of Japanese circle and club interactions. But after stressing each week over how to act and where I’d fit in during club activities (being the only third year who did yobikomu during the school festival, while the rest of the upperclassman organized scheduling and made food), I wanted to try the opposite: spending time with a small group of Japanese students in a casual setting. Depending on your personality and/or your goals, my recommendation for a CIP activity would vary. I highly recommend smaller, not as school-affiliated groups if you’re like me, generally more reserved and would like to have a constant few faces rather than often shuffling circle acquaintances. On the other hand, trying circles and clubs are truly a great way to experience a unique and very prominent component of Japanese university life. The circle culture is much stronger than that of clubs in the US and introduces you to students not particularly interested in English/international affairs. To hear more about my experiences last semester, please read that blog post here.

Ife Samms: Female Musician Empowerment; Girl Band Power

Leading GBP (Girl Band Power) for the past few months has certainly been a handful. Throughout this time, I have wanted to invite my band members into the song writing process, and although it seemed difficult for them to grasp at first, I hope that this time together was an eye-opening experience for all of them. As this has been a project with the goal of female-musician empowerment in Japan, I hope that these young women were able to find encouragement in their art, and expansion in their views of their roles as band members. This intimate time making music with these four women has opened my eyes to not only the time that truly goes into leading a band, but the dedication and love that the challenge inspires.

While I was at Binghamton University, I lead as the vocalist and bassist of a funk band called the Funkophiles. This funk band was a different animal than the type of band Girl Band Power has been. Funk, as a branch off of jazz, is heavily motivated by improvisation from its members, making rehearsals quite easy and straightforward. However, GBP’s members are comprised of musicians who have not been exposed to improvisation or to songwriting in a band setting. Although this posed a challenge, I took this as an opportunity to expand my own individual part-writing and arranging abilities, outside of rehearsal time, in order that I might relieve pressure from GBP’s members to write their own parts. Language, too, was a challenge, as I was given the chance to use Japanese to explain musical concepts for the first time. I was surprised, though, that our band members would always speak to me politely; as the second oldest member and leader, I felt their respect through the language they used with me.

Due to challenges like these, Girl Band Power certainly has not been a walk in the park. As a member, I have taken on the roles of keeping in contact with members to plan rehearsal times, booking the studios, creating and sending song files for our original pieces, as well as creating and sending the files’ accompanying sheet music. This band has been a full-time job, and with school, it has been difficult to keep up. Thank God, I have somehow been able to stay on top of the band goings-ons (while promoting our April 17th first-and-last concert) and have been encouraged that although the challenge of this band has touched all of its members, it has pushed us to reach a new level of artistry as musicians, and a new level of perseverance and hope through it all. To see the dedication that musicians in both America and Japan bring to the table is not only a testament to the power and passion music inspires, but it also illustrates to me the universal nature of music—it can be shared across countries and cultures without losing its strength.

Those who read this post will most likely join a community already established in Kyoto; however, even to those who will experience a CIP in general, I believe that the notion of “perseverance and hope” is an important factor in learning all you can learn, and in seeing the positive end to something that, at times, can be very trying. I am very grateful for this opportunity to lead a girl band as my CIP (in Japan of all places), and I am thankful for all of the encouragement and support I have received from friends and teachers, alike. This has been a life-changing, life-inspiring experience I will never forget. From here on, I look forward to our April 17th concert; I am ready to put it all out there, have a wildly fun time, and take home what I have learned, using it as another propelling and motivating stepping stone in my future as a musician for God (Love).

ジェニファー・ワン:バンド

私のCIPはバンド活動である。サムずさんと他二人の日本人と一緒に毎週一時間練習をしようとしている。練習の場所はStudio246という大宮駅の近くにあるスタジオである。サムずさんがボーカリストで、まこさんがドラムをたたいて、しょうこさんがベースを弾いて、私がキーボードを弾いている。みんな女性だから、バンドの名前はガールバンドパワー(GBP) にするかもしれない。コンサートは4月17日にStudio246の舞台でするつもりで、これから詳細を決める。コンサートのために今みんな一緒に新しい曲を作っている。その曲以外は、サムずさんが作った曲を二つ、日本の曲を一つ、アメリカの曲を1つ演奏したいと思う。コンサートのさらしを今作っているところだ。

私は12年間のピアノの経験があって、オーケストラでビオラを弾くこともある。とはいえ、初めてのバンド活動で緊張している。でも、いいコンサートができるように頑張っている!

イフェ・サムズ:ガール・バンド・パワー活動

私はCIPとして、同志社大学の学生3人とKCJSの学生1人と一緒にGBP(ガール・バンド・パワー)というバンドをやっています。このCIPの目標は若い女性に自分の独創的な特技に自信を持つようになってもらうための活動をやることです。現時点のメンバーはピアニスト、ドラマー、ベーシスト、バックボーカル・パークッションニストとボーカル・リーダーの私です。バンドの練習日はメンバーで決めた日にち次第で変わりますが、場所はいつも京都のスタジオを借りてやっています。英語でさえガールバンドをやったことがないので、もちろん第二言語ではないです。しかし、今まで思ったよりうまくいけています。というのは、皆さんが協力的からです。自分のやって欲しいことを伝えると、すぐにやってくれます。ちなみに、連絡する方法はいつもラインのグループで、日にちを決めることやカバーする曲を決めたい時に、バンドのメンバーは素晴らしい人ばかりなので、すぐに答えてくれます。「やはり、女性とバンドをやったら、最高や」と思う時が多いです。逆に、連絡が必要な場合、時々私の方が返事をするのが遅くて、「ホンマに頑張らなあかんねんな」と思っています。楽譜作り・連絡を始める・練習中のスケジュールを守る責任は私が担い手になっていて、今はベーシストが一ヶ月海外に行っているので、最近彼女の代わりにも私がベースをやっていますから、大変です。一方、私は今のメンバーが大大好きです。本当に言葉で表現できないほどこの女性たちを愛しています。GBPのメンバーに私が作詞作曲した音楽を弾いてもらって、非常に感謝しています。GBPの皆へ、これからもよろしくお願いします!最高の本番が出来るように頑張りましょう!

Will Fitzell: G-FRONT Kansai

For my CIP, I joined an LGBT circle called G-FRONT KANSAI in Osaka.  My reasoning for joining an LGBT circle was because I had the desire to learn about the differences within American LGBT culture and Japanese LGBT culture.  While I only was able to attend two meetings of G-FRONT, I feel that I was able to learn quite a bit.

First, LGBT culture has a number of unique vocabulary items, and learning new words and the equivalents to American LGBT culture words was a very cool thing for me.  The way LGBT circles operate in America versus Japan is also rather different.  In American LGBT circles (at least the ones at the University of Michigan), a person’s pronouns are asked, sexuality is never explicitly stated in self-introductions, and personal questions are often not asked for fear of making a person too uncomfortable.  At my LGBT circle here in Japan, I was asked to state my sexuality in my self-introduction, was asked several times what my ideal “type” is (we even had a session where we all talked about our ideal type of boyfriend which was the focus topic of my first G-FRONT meeting).  At the second meeting I attended, the subject was much more complicated—it focused on the issues of being LGBT while in care houses for the elderly.  Unfortunately, the conversation was so complex and rapidly spoken about that I was essentially unable to contribute anything truly meaningful to the conversation, which was a shame.

G-FRONT seems to do activities and events for different types of people, so whenever I went to a meeting it was all gay men (meetings/events for lesbians or transgender people are separated for example).  One distinct thing I noticed right away about G-FRONT was that, because it is not a college group, the members were quite a bit older than I.  In fact, the youngest member besides me was 34, the oldest being in their 50’s!

After each meeting and get together that is part of the official G-FRONT itinerary, about half of the group goes out to dinner to get some food and a few drinks, so I was invited and joined them both times I attended a meeting (after the first meeting I went to, I was also taken to a real Japanese gay bar in Osaka, which was a very eye-opening experience for me, but not after the second meeting).  These dinners occurred at the same restaurant each time (indicating the habitual, group spot of choice), and it was at this setting that I got to have more “real” and informal conversation where I learned new words specific to Japanese LGBT culture, the phone apps that gay men in Japan use to meet each other, and all sorts of interesting general information about the gay experience in Japan.

My CIP experiences have been extremely rewarding and fulfilling.  My identity as a gay male has always been one of my most salient identities, and so back in America at college, my friend circles are LGBT-based and I am very involved in the community.  Having been in Japan since June 2014, it wasn’t until I joined G-FRONT in October 2014 that I had any sort of connection to LGBT people in Japan, and I am very glad that I have begun to make these connections.  I greatly look forward to my participation in this circle throughout the next semester that I spend in Japan.

ウィル・フィッツェル:LGBTのサークル

CIPのために、私はLGBT(同性愛者など)の大阪にあるサークルに入ることを選びました。今まで、サークルのミーティングが一回だけありましたけど、とても大切な経験でした。毎週にミーティングが行われているので、また参加する機会を楽しみにしています。

サークルは「G-FRONT関西」と呼ばれています。私の初めてのミーティングの前に、プライバシー(LGBTの問題)を守るという理由で、大阪に着いた時に、G-FRONT のスタッフは大阪にある南方駅で私を迎えに来てくれました。本当のミーティングは私の思ったこととちょっと違っていました。私も含(ふく)めて全員(ぜんいん)で5人だけでした。全員はテーブルに座って、自己紹介をして、サークルの目的や行事について話して、新しいメンバーとして私に行事とサークルの写真を見せてくれました。その後で、全員は同性愛者の男性だから、「好きなタイプ」(容姿や性格など)というトピックについて話しました。

ミーティングを終わったら、メンバーと一緒に居酒屋に行きました。その後で、グループと私はゲイバーに初めて行きました。レストランもゲイバーで、日本のLGBT の文化について話しました。一晩だけとはいえ、日本に着いてから、本当の日本のLGBT の文化について習ったと思っています。

Neena Kapur: Zazen Meditation at Daisen-in

I began the semester working with Deepest Kyoto, a locally based tour group that seeks to explore the more unknown parts of Kyoto. While it was a valuable experience, I ended up switching CIPs come March due to the time commitment required for Deepest Kyoto. The CIP I have been pursuing, as of late, is Zazen meditation lessons at Daitokuji temple. This experience has enriched my time here in Kyoto in so many ways, and I’ve learned so much from it (both in terms of Japanese culture, and in terms of good meditation practice!)

Every Sunday evening, I arrive at Daitokuji’s Daisen-in sub-temple, pay a small fee, and enter an atmosphere of peace and serenity. Needless to say, it’s a good place to de-stress after a long week, and mentally prepare for the week ahead. I usually arrive about 15 minutes early so I can spend some time wandering through the rock garden before settling into the meditation room, zenshitsu. Lessons are open to the public, so while I (and a few others) consistently attend, there are also new faces every week. There are usually 3-5 people in attendance, and the Daisen-in Buddhist Priest, obousan, leads the lessons.

But, what is Zazen meditation? Great question! Zazen meditation is the meditation technique that’s practiced within the Zen Buddhist sect, and it has a few unexpected surprises. While it begins the way most meditation I’ve done in the past does—legs crossed, back straight, eyes closed (or focused on a specific spot), and hand in a mudra—after a few minutes, the priest comes and hits everyone on the back with a long stick, keisaku, with the purpose to keep your mind sharp and awaken you from any sleepy thoughts. Don’t be scared! They hit hard, but, believe it or not, it really feels good, and it really improves meditation concentration. The amazing thing about it is the tradition surrounding how the series of strikes are delivered. On my first day, the obousan instructed me that, to receive a strike, you must bow to the obousan, who bows back, then you lean forward, and he delivers three precise strikes—right, left, left—on your back, for which you then sit up quickly and bow in thanks, then return to meditating. Throughout the entire hour-long session, you can request a strike by the keisaku at any time by putting your hands together.

After an hour long of non-stop meditation (let’s just say that I literally cannot feel my legs for a good five minutes after it), we all retire to the tea-room, and drink matcha and eat wagashi and chat for half an hour or so. This part of the evening is especially nice, because I have the opportunity to interact with the obousan, which is such a privilege and learning experience. Not only does it give me the chance to practice my keigo, but I also get to learn about Zen Buddhism (architecture, meditation practices, the history of the Daitokuji temple, rock garden art) directly from a Buddhist priest. Every evening is a really incredibly experience, because the obousan loves to get to know his pupils, and also loves to talk about history. So, I get a chance to tell him about myself and develop a relationship, while also gaining a unique perspective on Kyoto’s rich history.

This experience has been incredibly rewarding, and it saddens me that in just a few weeks, my venue for meditation will change from the beautiful Daisen-in temple, with cool breezes and rock gardens, to a messy bedroom. I’m thrilled to have had the opportunity to develop a relationship with and learn from a Zen Buddhist priest, and I hope to continue practicing the meditation techniques I learned this semester upon returning home.