「KCJS 30 (2018-2019)」カテゴリーアーカイブ

Charles Stater: Zazen

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For my CIP activity, I decided to take the path less traveled (literally) and hike up a large hill near Kinkakuji each week to partake in traditional zazen in a small Buddhist temple, Fumonken. At these meetings, which were entirely in Japanese and one-on-one, my priest and I would first have a lesson, of sorts. In this brief lesson, my priest would introduce a central zen concept (for example, the first week we discussed muga (無我) and it’s relation to Japanese zen) which featured both philosophy and philology, as he frequently would connect the related kanji to both Buddhist legends and to modern Japanese language and I would desperately try and follow along. These lessons were only about a half-hour long, sadly, but were always riveting; for someone like me who loves both the history of language and philosophy, I never lacked for interesting subject matter in these discussions. We would also always have sweets and tea during our discussions, relaxing on small cushions and both donning Buddhist robes.

The second part of the experience was then proper zazen meditation. I would first remove the paper screens from the meditation room, to clear a view to the rock garden and open the area up to fresh air, and then we would sit and meditate for about a half an hour. At first this was agonizingly painful for my legs, but with repetition the pain has progressed from “bear mauling” levels to more like “light gunshot wound”, which I would call a plus. Certainly the experience of meditating in itself has been beneficial for me, allowing me a quiet place to first worry about things, then worry that I’m ruining my meditation by worrying, and finally overcoming both and finally shutting my inner dialogue up. In the Rinzai school of Buddhist zen that I am practicing (and is, incidentally, the most rigorous type! Joy!) when meditating one must always keep the eyes open; this is 1. So you don’t fall asleep and 2. If your mind is truly in no place, looking ahead should be no different than eyes closed, as you should be unable to “see” anything.

This experience has taught me a lot of humility. It has taught me a lot about leg pain. It has taught me a lot about how complicated kanji history can be. I think most significantly, I have gained some intriguing insights into how Buddhism and the modern mindset cannot coexist. You have to pursue one or the other; both are inherently toxic to the other. Learning how this dichotomy has played out here in Japan, with such a deep tradition of Buddhism and now such a voracious consumer culture has been fascinating, not least because I am learning it from my priest who is an ex-salaryman. I am glad I chose to pursue a more ephemeral CIP, as I think personally this experience has been more helpful to my ongoing construction of my own identity and growth of my spirit than anything else could have been.

In terms of observations, the temple I go to is quite small and cozy. It is located near Kinkakuji, high up on a hill, and seems to receive very little traffic. I have seen several other adherents stop by, but usually they are working for a room for a night or two. The temple is actually my priest’s house, and so I have gotten a little look at the orderly (if cramped) lifestyle of the ordinary Japanese. As for my priest himself, he is a warm, genial ex-salaryman who decided the priestly life was far more interesting for him, and so married a French woman and became a Buddhist priest. I can’t attest to their relationship much since I rarely ever see his wife, but they seem to handle the language barrier and the whole issue of his priesthood quite well.

Finally, in terms of feelings, the greatest feeling I have with zazen is relief. Relief to be away from my phone, job applications, emails, commitments; even time itself seems to bend to the overwhelming silence. Having no prior experience with meditation, that aspect I also find to be refreshing, despite the sometimes difficult leg postures. I am glad to have chosen such a radically project, I think, as it is now coming in handy both in terms of resume-building (because, of course, the hustle never stops) and in finding inner peace.

Ben Sisson: La Carriere Cooking Lessons

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餅入り稲荷寿司
The hardest dish, but the most delicious one!

For my CIP, I attended cooking lessons at La Carriere cooking school. My time there was like a condensed version of my time in Japan as a whole. Every moment I spent at that school was a mix of confusion and excitement, and I was basically always hungry. The lessons consisted of a forty minute lecture in the preparation of the dishes and then an hour and a half of cooking. The lectures were extremely difficult to understand and so I gained only a cursory knowledge of culinary terms. Still, the lecturers prepared the dish as they talked, so I was able to glean the technique just by looking. If I got distracted for even a moment I would fall behind the other students and not be able to complete the dish, so this class really tested my focus. In general, this need to focus was pretty reflective of my experience in Japan: the only way I can avoid making a fool of myself and getting lost is if I carefully observed how others behave.

The other students, all much older than me, were a mixed bag. I definitely did not put as much effort as I should have towards trying to use keigo with my cooking partners; still, it was already enough of a challenge to complete the dish and speak in the desu/masu form I was used to, so keigo seemed impossible. On the other hand, I was surprised how easy humor transferred over sometimes. I’ve been told that jokes do not really translate, but if I said smiled and said「作りにくいですね 」when my partner and I were both struggling, I could get a genuine laugh.

I was grateful for this, as I communicate mostly through humor in English, and I was worried my classmates would be too serious or stuck up to be kind to a young foreigner like me. Sometimes my partners would not reciprocate, but they would at least feign interest. In general, the elderly people I talked to were exceptionally skilled at pretending to care and at politely declining things; frankly, they were so well mannered it was shocking. They had social skills that were pretty lacking in America.

I was even able to meet a retired doctor who took me to a Soto Zen sitting at a temple in a small town, which has been a dream of mine for a long while. At the temple, everyone was exceptionally open. It was interesting to see how much more relaxed they were during the sitting sessions than the Americans I had meditated with in Boston. People in Japan have been practicing Zen for so long that there is no need to put on a show or to pretend to be something they are not. The monk lectured for a long time, but he did not feel the need to prove himself, which was refreshing compared to the way all the American Zen teachers try to show off their intellectuality.

In general, these two experiences were extremely gratifying and made all the trouble of learning Japanese—including all of the embarrassing moments—worth it: I got a genuine glimpse of two subcultures within Japan, and now I understand a bit more about the people who populate them.

Nancy Tran: Calligraphy Club

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I participated in the Doshisha Calligraphy Club throughout the semester. I use the word “participated” because I did not feel as though I had truly joined the club due to the manner of each session. None of the members make any particular attempts to introduce themselves or help unless you ask them, but with the atmosphere of the room even asking for help is quite difficult. Most of the time, one member helped guide me in learning how to write but his words were far and few between. Since I remained a quiet empirical observer most of the time, I was able to see the interactions between the members more. The other members tend to practice quietly by themselves until the club leader, or who I presume to be the club leader, enters and brightens up the atmosphere by seemingly gossiping with everyone. As this program is in Kyoto, most of the members speak in Kansai-ben. Whenever someone heads home for the day the rest of the members always say お疲れ様. When introducing oneself, the others tend to ask what year you are (何回生) and what faculty you are in (学部), most likely to establish a connection or establish hierarchy of ages. I entered the club hoping to learn calligraphy with my peers and establish friendly relations but it seems as though I was only able to learn calligraphy. I would not recommend this activity for someone who is looking to establish friendly relations with club members due to the nature of the members and the club activity.

Sylvia Yu: Bazaar Café

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Wednesday afternoons look a little like this: I take a brisk stroll from Doshisha, walking along Karasuma before making a turn down an alleyway that eventually leads to Bazaar Café. It’s a modest place—handwritten signs and dog-eared books lined along shelves and all—with a welcoming presence (indoor slippers, greenery of the garden) and an even more welcoming staff. From my first day volunteering here and onwards, I’ve been met with a familial feel; in between washing and drying dishes and silverware, preparing meals, and serving customers, we learn bits about each other’s lives and how we spend our days. I enter Bazaar Café from the back with a lively おはようございます (which is, by the way, not exclusive to the morning!), don my apron and bandana, and slip into the kitchen where everyone is already at work. A fellow volunteer asks me what I learned in school that day as she prepares Buchimgae (Wednesday is also when Korean food is served; cuisine varies by day of the week), the manager peeks through the curtain to announce an order that has just been made and everyone answers with a resounding はい. So the afternoon goes.

Workwise, Bazaar Café isn’t particularly demanding. There are days in which business is far less busy—empty, even—that there is ample time for aimless conversation as we drink tea. To note, the people that constitute the staff of the place are certainly not one type of person; they include a mother studying sociology in a university with a family in Denmark, a girl from Germany taking a gap year to gather her Japanese roots, an elderly man who rehabilitates those with former addiction (“変なおじいさん” he dubs himself, but perhaps 優しい is more apt), to name some. And yet, despite these differences, I don’t feel a significant degree of distance with anyone; every week is, of course, an opportunity to learn subtleties of Japanese culture and vocabulary here and there (said mother studying sociology likes to quiz me as I store cups in the cabinet), but additionally grow closer to those that I work alongside. At Bazaar Café, which places an emphasis as a safe space, there is a great sense of community. We speak without filter nor fear.

That said, Bazaar Café is wonderful place to volunteer if you are seeking a chance to practice Japanese conversational skills while taking part in what feels like family. It’s got a casual atmosphere, makes a great studying spot (so friends have attested), and of course, serves good food (I can attest!). I leave a little after three with an お疲れ様です and wonder what to anticipate the following Wednesday.

Andrea Radziminski: Tea Ceremony Lessons

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Second Tea Ceremony Room

Over the fall of 2018 my CIP was attending tea ceremony lessons. At first, I experienced how tightly knit the tea ceremony community is, because it took a couple of lessons before the teacher and other students stopped keeping me at distance. They treated me as an outsider not to be mean nor discourage me, but because we had not yet developed a feeling of closeness and had no shared experiences. As I observed, the students closest to the tea teacher still used desu/masu and even keigo regularly when talking to or about her, but what they talked about and the relaxed atmosphere in which they communicated reflected their closeness. For instance, the teacher would casually, in plain form or desu/masu, discuss with more experienced students the price of new tatami, private tea gatherings she attended, or what previous students.  Their discussions are always quite happy, warm, and friendly.

By comparison, the teacher only talked to the less experienced students, who had spent less time learning tea there, about the tea ceremony, and their discussions always happened in a more formal atmosphere. Over the course of the semester, all students, including myself, continued to develop closer ties to the teacher. And so, I, and others, slowly developed close enough ties to be considered more of an inside member of their close-knit group, and the formal and distant treatment at the beginning slowly melted away quite a bit. So, I now look forward to continuing developing closer ties and slowly becoming more a part of their inner world of tea. So, I encourage other students who may at first experience a colder or more distant reception to not be discouraged. The strictness, formality, and distance in small groups like the tea ceremony are only signs of how close-knit the group is, with bonds going years or generations back. If you are sincere in your efforts to try your best, then once they get to know you, they will begin to warm up to you.

With the above in mind, I learned, practiced, and observed a great deal of keigo as well as the many intricate manners for interacting in Japan, which became a great help in many other interactions beyond my lessons. When switching between receiving instruction and actually participating in the tea ceremony, I was able to gain more experience in knowing what keigo was used in place of other words in various situations. Likewise, I learned that there are many ways of showing gratitude to your sensei, or superior, beyond saying thank you and bowing. For instance, very long letters are written yearly by students to express their gratitude, and these letters must use certain kinds of paper, language, and multiple forms of saying thank you. Similarly, gifts of sweets or gratuity money are not required but seen as signs of gratefulness towards the teacher, and these signs of gratitude must be presented in a certain way as a gesture of respect. For instance, monthly lesson fee payments must be made of crisp bills and be placed in a crisp, new envelope. This envelope must be placed on a fan and presented in front of the teacher using a set phrase and bowing, usually while sitting seiza style. Later I learned many of these rules and gestures can be helpful in other kinds of everyday situations with people with which you are not close, business situations, and school situations. So, they were all very helpful to learn.

John Courson: Student Television Club

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For my CIP activity, I knew that I wanted to do something relating to my major since I’m a Film and TV major at BU, and entering KCJS was solely to fulfill credits towards my minor. I stumbled upon the 学生テレビ局 (Student TV circle) at Doshisha by chance, and knew immediately that it would be a perfect fit for me. At the Student Television circle, you can make any kind of programming you and your partners decide to make. It should be important to note that you don’t need prior experience in TV to join this club, as many of the participants aren’t media majors at all. It’s a club filled with people who like to have fun making TV with their friends. I would suggest anyone interested in joining this club to do so, but know that you will have a hard time if you’re not confident or capable with the Japanese skills you’ve learnt. The circle meets officially twice a week, but you’ll be split into teams, and your team decides on what days to meet according to everyone’s schedules.

My first contact with the circle was through a 3rd year student who acts as leader of the club.  He told me which day in the week would be best according to who he knows usually attends the weekly meetings. Thanks to his thoughtfulness, I was placed in a team with a girl who likes to practice her English, and would happily translate for me whenever I got lost. I found this really helpful since TV is heavily influenced by culture, and I would sometimes be confused by certain slang used during the planning phase. My team decided that since I look like Harry Potter, they want to make a Harry Potter parody trailer. It might’ve been easy to be insulted by this, but I think half of this decision was an attempt to incorporate me into the circle as best as they could. I think they knew if I got a role in acting, it would force me to be involved and make for a fun time. Though parading down Shinmachi campus in a HP robe was embarrassing, I’m extremely thankful for the overall consideration that’s gone into making my time spent in this circle a memorable one by the fellow members.

The best part of this circle is not the quality television content it provides, and in fact the content is probably very lackluster compared to the buTV10 station at home. By far the best part of joining this circle is all of the practice and experience in the language and culture that you get from being surrounded by Doshisha students, being creative and making content together, eating 10pm dinner together after a long day of work, and having takoyaki parties and okonomiyaki parties just for fun. I learnt a lot from these experiences, especially in how people my age interact with each other. I was thrown off at first by the underclassmen’s use of teineigo towards me. I thought it was cold, and a sign that we wouldn’t be able to become friends. Maybe they thought since my time here is only temporary, there’s no point in even being casual with me? I was proven wrong, though, as this is a normal dynamic in Japanese schools, and I was quickly able to make friends across all participating ages easily. I also learnt a lot of slang through jokes and casual conversation. I quickly discovered Japanese jokes are difficult to understand, but the themes of the humor are often universally applicable and equally funny.

I’d say my overall experience with the CIP has been a great success. The students are interested in helping you feel welcome and exchanging cultural insights. I was thrown into a club full of Japanese students I’d never have met without KCJS’s mandatory CIP policy. At first, I was intimidated by all of the kansai dialects, especially since they all speak so quickly with it. But it’s something you can get used to, or if you’re like me and just can’t get used to it to save your life, then you learn to pick out the relevant information. I’ll be forever grateful for the experiences I’ve had. My advice for someone who’s interested in joining any club at Doshisha would be to physically insert yourself. Place yourself in a position to have conversations. Enter the club room with a smile on your face and greet everyone. When the members are split into groups conversing and you feel left out, walk up to them and insert yourself into the conversation. They won’t think you’re strange, they’ll be relieved that you aren’t awkwardly standing in the corner of the room anymore. Ask questions and be genuinely interested in the people you meet. And never say “no” to an invitation to do something fun, even if you’re concerned that you won’t have time for your studies. Your time in the CIP can become the best part of the program experience, just like it has for me.