Why turtles have hairy tails in East Asian art

A dear friend who was born in 1919, survived World War II and lived to the ripe old age of 101, shared many pearls of wisdom with me. Among those were several Japanese proverbs. 

Like this one:

亀の甲より年の功

Kame no kō yori toshi no kō. “Experience is the mother of wisdom.” That’s easy to understand. Yet its literal meaning is “Wisdom from age is better than the shell of a tortoise.”

Huh? 

What does wisdom have to do with tortoise shells? 

This proverb expresses its meaning by using wordplay, a favorite in Japanese. Two homonyms are used — kō 甲, meaning turtle shell, and kō 功, meaning accumulated experience. The proverb also alludes to the symbolic imagery of the turtle as representing long life.

Turtles, cranes, and pine trees

Another proverb states:

鶴は千年亀は万年

Tsuru wa sen-nen, kame wa man-nen. “A crane lives a thousand years, a turtle, ten thousand.”

The turtle, along with the crane and the pine tree, is one of three frequently used images to convey the wish for longevity. It is usually pictured with a long hairy tail and is called a minogame 蓑亀, meaning a turtle wearing a straw raincoat.

But what is a straw raincoat? 

Allow me a brief digression.

Stiff oil-paper umbrellas, or rather, parasols, came to Japan from China during the 9th century and were used as sunshades. The folding mechanism was invented in the late 16th century, and folding parasols became popular during the Edo Era (1603–1867). 

Straw raincoats and kasa hats — conical umbrella hats commonly seen in East Asian art and still worn today — had traditionally been used as protection against rain. 

We had to leave it to the Europeans to invent rain umbrellas.

Back to turtles. 

Why do they have hairy tails?

Over many years spent in water, bluish-green algae attaches and thrives on the turtle’s carapace, growing long and luxurious, and giving the appearance of a hairy tail. The years it takes for the algae to lengthen reveal the turtle’s long life. 

I confess I was puzzled about these hairy turtles for years. I’m happy to have finally learned how this whimsical image came to represent longevity.

The post Turtles, Longevity, and Strangely Hairy Tails first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

Kanji characters can have deep significance

Japan has been using Chinese characters since they were imported from Sui Dynasty China in the 6th century. Although the Japanese language did not quite fit with Chinese writing, over the centuries, they adapted and transformed it to suit their needs.

When we look into Chinese characters, called kanji in Japanese, we find they can conjure up both delightful images and deep meaning.

Let’s look at a few kanji that express life lessons. The first two were shared with me by my elderly Japanese friend.

Ningen

These kanjis are read as ningen which means human being.

The first kanji means person. The second means interval or relationship. When combined, they illustrate that in order to be human, we need relationships and interactions with others.

“No man is an island.” — John Donne

Seikatsu

These kanji, read seikatsu, mean living or one’s daily existence. The first kanji means life. The second means action or vigor. To truly live, we must be active.

Ninja

The character for ninja 忍 is written with a blade, 刃, over the character for heart or spirit, 心. Ninjas are legendary for their unrivaled stealth and skill. If we carry the strength of a katana in our hearts, we, like ninjas, can overcome hardships with grace and skill.

Speaking of hardship…

Happiness vs. Hardship

The kanji on the left is tsurai, meaning bitter hardship. The kanji on the right is saiwai meaning happiness. As you can see, adding the one line pictured in the middle changes hardship to happiness.

When people experience hard times, perhaps a change as tiny as one little line is all that separates them from joy.

Let us never underestimate the power of a tiny act of kindness.

References:

allworddic.com, my dear friend Mori-san.

The post 4 Kanji and Their Hidden Meanings first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

The ancient story behind an everyday expression

According to the 9th-century Chinese history, Rekidaimeigaki, 歴代名画記, there is an interesting story behind the four character expression used in both China and Japan, 画竜点睛. In Japanese, this is read garyōtensei, and means to put the finishing touch on something.

The characters by themselves mean:

画 picture, brush stroke

竜 dragon

点 spot

睛 pupil

Before I share the story with you, it’s helpful to understand a certain Buddhist tradition. When a new statue of the Buddha is consecrated, an “eye-opening ceremony” is held. The officiating priest carefully paints the pupils on it, and the spirit of the Buddha enters the statue.

So now, on to the story.

Dragons on temple walls

In 5th century China lived an artist of exceptional skill. His name was Zhang Sengyou, and he was commissioned to paint a mural of four white dragons on the wall of Anrakuji Temple.

As the lifelike dragons appeared one by one upon the wall, onlookers marveled at their realism. 

Then Zhang stopped painting.

“But what of the eyes? They have no pupils! You’re not finished.” The people urged him to paint pupils to complete the dragons.

Zhang replied, “If I add the pupils, the dragons will fly off into the sky.” 

“That’s impossible!” They laughed in disbelief, insisting he finish the dragons.

The artist sighed and gave in. He painted pupils on one, and then two of the dragons. As he painted, dark clouds gathered. Thunder clapped. Lightning struck. True to the artist’s word, the mighty beasts came to life and flew to the heavens, leaving the two unfinished dragons quiet upon the wall.

Once the dragons were out of sight, calm returned.

The crowd was struck dumb, staring in silence at the sky. The two sightless dragons remain to this day on the walls of Anrakuji Temple.

画竜点睛, garyōtensei, literally means adding the dot of the pupil to the dragon painting — or as my dictionary defines it, “completing something by executing the final, critical step.”

If you are interested in the history of Japanese, and how Chinese characters became part of the language, you might like Why is Learning Japanese So Hard?

References:

Kotobank 画竜点睛, Kotobank 歴代名画記, Japanese dictionary.

The post What Do Dragons Have to Do With This Classic Japanese Idiom? first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

Blessings from the God of the New Year

Kagami-biraki refers to the Japanese practice of cracking open the hard, dried kagami mochi at the end of the New Year’s holidays, as well as the opening of sake barrels at celebratory events.

Kagami mochi, “Mirror rice cakes”

During Japan’s New Year’s holidays, people display half spheres of mochi, pounded rice cakes, called kagami mochi, “mirror rice cakes.” Two rounded cakes are placed on a wooden offering stand, a smaller cake stacked upon a larger, and topped with a daidai, Japanese bitter orange.

These may look like mere festive decorations, but they play an important role in New Year’s traditions. They are where the Toshi-kami, the God of the New Year, stays during his holiday visit. Kagami mochi also hold symbolic meaning.

Kagami means mirror. This name could have been given due to the shape of the mochi which resembles the round mirrors used for centuries in Japan, or it could be an allusion to Amaterasu’s mirror, one of Japan’s Three Imperial Treasures.

Mirrors are deeply significant in the Shinto religion. They reflect the spirit of Kami, the all-encompassing life force deity, and are often found in shrine sanctuaries.

On top of the “mirror mochi” is a daidai, bitter orange. Daidai is a homonym for “generations.” Much like the many symbolisms of New Year’s osechi-ryori foods, the daidai‘s use on the top of the kagami-mochi represents a prayer for the family’s continuance from generation to generation.

The visit of the Toshi-kami, the God of the New Year

The Toshi-kami is first welcomed into households through the kadomatsu, pine and bamboo decorations that adorn both sides of the front door. The Toshi-kami is not only the god who brings blessings and bountiful harvests in the new year, but he merges with the collective spirit of a household’s ancestors, the sorei, who visits the family at this time.

The period during which the Toshi-kami visits over the new year’s holidays is called Matsu no Uchi, 松の内, “within the pines.”

Burning the kadomatsu

At the end of the Matsu no Uchi, New Year’s decorations are burned, sending the Toshi-kami back to the realm of the spirits. 

After the Great Meireki Fire of 1657 that destroyed approximately 60% of Edo (now Tokyo), in addition to other fire preventative measures, the shogun shortened Matsu no Uchi so that the flammable pine decorations would be disposed of sooner. He declared that from henceforth, Matsu no Uchi would end on the seventh day of the first month.

Eating kagami-mochi

Shortly after the kadomatsu are burned, generally around January 11 depending on local customs, the now dried and cracked kagami-mochi is broken into pieces, added to soups or roasted, and eaten by family and friends. This custom is called kagami-biraki, 鏡開き, opening the rice cakes. 

By eating the mochi that has been home to the Toshi-kami, people are imbued with spiritual power and blessings for a safe, healthy year.

How the mochi is broken is important, though.

In the age of the samurai, from the 14th to the 19th centuries, it was considered an ill omen to cut the rice cake with a blade as it evoked the image of seppuku, the samurai’s noble suicide, so a wooden hammer was used to break the hard rice cakes.

This method of breaking the rice cakes continues to this day, although the word waru 割る, to split or break, is not used because it is felt to bode evil. Instead, the Japanese use the more positive word hiraku 開く, to open, considered a more auspicious description.

A WORD ABOUT JAPANESE: The verb hiraku takes the ending “i,” hiraki, when used in its noun form, and the first letter changes to “b,” biraki, when joined to another word. For more on the intricacies of the Japanese language, see my article, “Why is Learning Japanese So Hard?”

Another kagami-biraki

Since ancient times, sake has been offered to the kami, or deity, when performing Shinto rituals. Afterward, the attendees and the priest drink sake together and pray for the fulfillment of their prayers. 

This sharing of sake is another type of kagami-biraki. The round wooden lids of sake casks, called kagami 鏡, are cracked open, hiraki 開き, with a wooden mallet and their contents shared. In this case, kagami takes on the meaning of harmony, and hiraki, of prosperity.

The practice of kagami-biraki by opening sake casks has since spread and has become part of many celebrations that mark new beginnings, such as weddings, the start of the new season for martial arts studios or sports teams, and the official opening of new businesses.

A similar custom, kura-biraki 蔵開き, opening store rooms, started in ages past when feudal lords and merchants would celebrate the opening of their storage rooms for the new year, and share sake and rice cakes with their subordinates and customers. 

Kagami-biraki is a celebratory event, whether referring to the cracking open of the New Year’s kagami mochi and being imbued with the spirit of the Toshi-kami, or cracking the lid of a 72-liter sake cask and having a grand time drinking it with your community.

https://www.gekkeikan.co.jp/enjoy/qa/sake/sake06.html, https://www.jalan.net/news/article/500808/, The Essence of Shinto,* by Motohisa Yamakage

*affiliate link

The post Kagami-Biraki, Opening the Rice Cakes for a Prosperous and Healthy Year first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

According to a Japanese proverb, your first dream of the year is filled with portent

一富士二鷹三茄子, Ichi Fuji, Ni Taka, San Nasubi

First, Mount Fuji

Second, Hawks

Third, Eggplants

This proverb implies that when these three things — Mount Fuji, hawks, and eggplants — appear in one’s first dream of the year, 初夢 hatsuyume, they foretell a year of good fortune. Mount Fuji augurs the best fortune, then hawks, then eggplants.

Like many things Japanese, at first glance, this proverb seems inexplicable. To gain understanding, one must look into it a bit to get a grasp of how these things are connected and why Mount Fuji, hawks, and eggplants (of all things!) are auspicious.

Theories as to why

Our first theory relates to Tokugawa Ieyasu, the first shogun of the Edo era (1603–1867), and Japan’s third great unifier. He hailed from Suruga, now Shizuoka Prefecture, home of the magnificent and revered, Mount Fuji. Ieyasu loved hawks and kept many which he used for hunting, and he was fond of eating the first eggplants harvested each year.

Because of being three of the mighty Shogun Tokugawa’s favorite things, these things became auspicious portents.

Our second theory relies on homonyms. 

Fuji 富士, is read similarly to 不死 meaning “no death” and by extension, long life. Its reading is also similar to 無事 “without incident,” meaning peace, safety, and security. 

Taka, the Japanese word for hawk, is read the same as 高, “tall, high, or lofty.”

Nasu, eggplant, is read the same as 成す, meaning “to succeed in, to accomplish.”

All these are easily wished-for outcomes for anyone’s new year.

We also must not forget that Mount Fuji has been considered sacred since ancient times, the mountain itself being a Shinto deity. 

Auspicious, indeed.

When to dream

Just so you know when to dream of eggplants, the first dream of the year is considered to occur on the night of January first, or back in the old days before the introduction of the Gregorian calendar in the late 19th century, the night of Setsubun, the day preceding the first day of spring.

But what if your first dream of the New Year is a nightmare? 

Don’t worry, there’s a solution. 

Upon awakening, draw a picture of the Treasure Ship bearing the Seven Lucky Gods, and set it adrift upon a stream. The image will drift away, carrying your bad fortune with it.

References:

https://jpnculture.net/hatsuyume/, https://kotowaza-dictionary.jp/k0964/, https://boxil.jp/beyond/a5493/

The post For a Healthy Happy Year, Dream of Mount Fuji, Hawks, or Eggplants first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

Children who learn this from an early age become remarkably resilient adults

In 2016, Angela Duckworth published her research on what she called “Grit” — a winning combination of passion and perseverance — that she posited as a crucial component of success.

That is the closest thing I can think of to what the Japanese have been calling gaman (我慢) for centuries.

What is gaman?

My dictionary defines gaman as “patience, endurance, perseverance, tolerance, self-control, and self-denial.”

Gaman is a characteristic that is imbued into children so deeply that it becomes a given. It is why we see adults lining up in an orderly fashion at train stations and stoically dealing with natural disasters like the 2011 Tohoku earthquake and tsunami.

Restraint, self-control, tolerance. These are characteristics built into Japanese character.

We, humans, are not born with this high level of patience and endurance, as anyone who had cared for a baby or toddler well knows. So how do children in Japan develop this important trait?

Speaking from my own experience in raising my children in Japan while retaining my Western sensibilities, allow me to present you with a few examples.

Learning to gaman

• In elementary school, I observed students kneeling on the wooden floor in the formal Japanese sitting position of seiza — sitting on feet —while listening to long speeches in the school auditorium.
• Elementary and junior high school students are required to walk to and from school, carrying all books and equipment that they may need for school each day — regardless of the weather.

• When my children were in school, there were no heaters or air conditioners in the classrooms. 
• For their PE uniforms, my daughter and her classmates wore little underwear-like bloomers and thin T-shirts, no matter what the weather. The illustration above is a more recent version of the PE uniform, having replaced the underwear-style bloomers for girls with shorts.

• Students must eat every bite of their school lunches, whether they like it or not. This was particularly troublesome for my youngest son’s teachers, as he would sit at his desk with his lunch before him and refuse to open his mouth to eat even one bite of fish. He would rather gaman and miss recess than eat fish. lol
• Kids are taught not to challenge authority or question rules that don’t seem to make sense. They learn to simply suck it up, or rather, gaman.
• Elementary school students have six weeks of summer vacation during which they are required to do homework assignments daily. Part of that assignment for first graders is to care for a morning glory plant which they must bring back to school in September.

• If you are sick on the day of a test and miss taking it, you get a zero. At least that was my children’s situation in school. I hear that today, some schools will allow students to make up a missed test.
• High School in Japan is not compulsory. You have one chance to take the entrance test for a public high school, and one chance to take the entrance test for a private high school. If you flunk, or if you get sick and miss the test, you have to wait until the tests are held the next year to try again. Curiously, kids that have to wait for the next year’s tests are called ronin (yes, the same word used for a masterless samurai).

Perhaps it says something that I was so easily able to locate Japanese illustrations for every point on my list.

The results of learning to gaman

Although my motherly and lenient viewpoint clashed with many of the restrictions forced on my children in public schools, I can now appreciate much of their value.

So, next time you sit down to a meticulously prepared and beautiful Japanese meal, or see photos of Japanese people lining up in an orderly fashion, cleaning sports stadiums after events, or doing any job with scrupulous attention to detail, think about the years those adults spent as children honing their patience — and practicing gaman.

The post Gaman — The Gritty Japanese Word for an Integral National Characteristic first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

Cat skins on shamisens and unforeseen consequences

There is a Japanese proverb, 風が吹けば桶屋が儲かる, Kaze ga fukeba, okeya ga moukaru, which means, “When the wind blows, the barrel-makers profit.”

When I first heard that one, I was stumped. What could it mean?

As unlikely as that sounds, the story goes like this:

• The blowing wind stirs up clouds of dust from the ground, getting into people’s eyes and causing blindness.
• The blind take up playing the shamisen to make their living. The blind famously made their living as musicians as far back as the 13th century in Japan.
• The greater demand for shamisens results in a greater demand for the cat skins that are used for covering their sound-box.

Woah, wait! Cat skins? Really?

A word about shamisens

The shamisen is a 3-stringed instrument that originated in the Ryūkyū Kingdom, now Okinawa, in the 16th century. At that time, Ryūkyū was sending regular tributary missions to China, and the shamisen developed from a Chinese instrument called the sanxian that was brought back during those missions.

Ryūkyū shamisens are traditionally covered with snakeskin, while others used cat or dog skins. The thinness of the skin was said to produce a more beautiful sound.

Times have changed. Recently shamisen makers, few though they are, have experimented with imported kangaroo skin and various types of polymers.

Gone are the days of catching stray cats for the shamisen makers.

Back to the proverb

• Due to their skins being used to provide the newly blind with shamisens, fewer cats result in an increase in the mouse population.
• In their frenzy for food, the unchecked mice nibble at barrels, destroying them.
• The barrel-makers find their barrels in greater demand, thereby earning them unexpected profits.

When the wind blows, the barrel makers profit. 

Recent winds blowing in this world have caused unforeseen consequences.

• The pandemic caused a surge in real estate prices as people working from home sought out nicer houses.
• There have been trends in more healthful eating due to more people cooking at home.
• Other families have struggled, and their health suffered due to a lack of work and income.
• The jury is out on how years of seeing only mask-wearing teachers and caregivers will affect babies and children’s educational and mental development.

What other things happening today may cause unforeseen consequences down the road?

Not long after Shamisens developed in Ryūkyū, another import from China turned out to be a lifesaver in Japan. You’ll find the story here: Satsuma Sweet Potatoes and the Man who Inadvertently Became a God.

The post A Japanese Proverb—When the wind blows, the barrel makers profit first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

Minimum vocabulary needed while in Japan

If you are one of those intrepid souls that prefers to explore the world off the beaten track in Japan, you will likely encounter people who do not speak English. Learning these Japanese phrases could be tremendously helpful.

1. Kore wo kudasai (ko-leh oh kuh-dah-sah-ee)

“This one, please.”

At a restaurant: Point to the item you want on the menu or in the plastic food display, and say, “Kore wo kudasai.”

In a store: Point to the object you want to buy and say, “Kore wo kudasai.”

2. Onegaishimasu (oh-neh-guy-she-mäs)

Onegaishimasu is a very polite “please.”

As you can imagine, this word is endlessly useful.

In a restaurant and you want more water? Lift your glass and say, “Onegaishimasu.”

Many restaurants offer free refills of rice, if that’s what you want, lift your rice bowl and say, “Onegaishimasu.”

Finished your meal and ready for your check? Say “Onegaishimasu.”

If you want to be more specific in asking for your check, say, “Okaikei (ō-käē-këē), onegaishimasu.” “Check, please.”

3. … ii desu ka? (ee des kah)

Meaning, “Is it okay if I…?”

Want to sit down? Gesture to the chair and ask “ii desu ka?”

Basically, anything you want to do, if you can gesture and say “ii desu ka?” you will be understood.

This will also get you major points for politeness.

4. Dōzo (do-oh-zoh)

Dōzo means “Go ahead.”

In a crowded place and want to let someone go ahead of you? Say “dōzo” as you gesture with your arm.

When you ask if you can do something — “ii desu ka?” — you will likely be responded to with “Dōzo.”

5. Kekkō desu. (kehk-koh des)

“No, thank you.”

This is important, as rural Japanese can be very generous with food and drink. If you have reached your limit, say “Kekkō desu.”

Holding your hand over the top of your glass while saying “kekkō desu” also gives a clear signal you have had enough.

6. Hai / iie or dame (hah-ee / ee-yeh / dah-meh)

Hai means “Yes.”

Ie means “No.”

Dame is a stronger “no,” and if accompanied by crossed arms, it’s a very strong “no.”

7. Sumimasen (sue-mee-mah-sen)

“Excuse me.”

Used when you accidentally bump into someone, and as a preface before asking a question. Perhaps this is most commonly used when squeezing between people on a train or other crowded place.

Accompanied by a bow, “sumimasen” can be used for “I’m sorry.”

8. Toire wa doko desu ka? (toe-ee-leh wah doh-koh des kah)

“Where is the bathroom?”

This is a totally common question in Japan, so you need not hesitate to ask.

9. Wakarimasen. (wah-kah-lee-mah-sen)

“I don’t understand.”

Nihongo (nē-hön-gō) wakarimasen. “I don’t understand Japanese.”

10. Eigo dekimasuka? (eh-ee-goh deh-key-mäs-kah)

“Can you speak English?”

I’m sure you can imagine many scenarios where this question would come in handy.

Note about paying

When paying with your credit card, don’t be surprised when the cashier holds up a finger and asks you, “Ikkai barai, desu ka?” In Japan, we are given the option to pay once or to split any payments into revolving charges. Just say, “Hai” to let the cashier know that one payment is fine.

Depending on how far off the beaten track you get, you may encounter shops that do not take credit cards. It’s always wise to carry 10-20,000 yen (USD $120-240).

It’s generally not a problem to pay for a small purchase with a 10,000 yen bill. It’s pretty normal.

Greetings

You may be wondering how to say “Hello” in Japanese. For the answer to that question, please see How To Say Hello in Japanese.

Special thanks to Hiroko who helped me put this list together. She taught Japanese to foreigners for over 55 years, and her insight and suggestions were fabulous. She commented, “We would really appreciate you learning these phrases before you visit.”

The post 10 Essential Japanese Phrases to Learn Today first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

Hiro’s “Perfect Death”

I have come to admire the Japanese concept of mono no aware, an awareness of the impermanence of life. Life is more beautiful and profound when viewed through the lens of its transience. This was never brought home to me more than when my dear friend Akiko’s husband passed away.

Last joyful day

At 85 years old, Hiro was tired. He had spent the afternoon playing with his grandchildren and missed his nap. Though a stroke a few years ago had reduced his mobility, his grandchildren have remained a tremendous source of joy. It had been a perfect Sunday.

No longer able to spend time on the golf course breathing the fresh air, feeling the breeze, and enjoying the company of his friends, his days have instead been spent at elderly “daycare” facilities. Bound to a wheelchair, he watched TV, chatted with the other disabled seniors, and nursed a feeling of deep melancholy. 

Today, his grandchildren had left before dinner to get home to finish their homework for school the next day. The house was quiet, the children’s cheerful chatter gone.

Hiro usually enjoyed his wife Akiko’s cooking, but this night it was hard to even lift his chopsticks to his mouth. He felt very tired, and he had no appetite.

By 8 o’clock, he was ready for bed. 

Akiko helped Hiro into bed and tucked his covers about him. She quietly did the dishes and then settled in the living room to watch TV. 

At 10 o’clock, she heard Hiro get up and go to the bathroom. Minutes passed. More minutes passed. Akiko didn’t hear him return to his room. She walked to the hall to check on him. She saw Hiro standing in the bathroom, holding onto the support bar they had installed, slowly swaying back and forth.

“Are you OK?” she asked.

“I feel a little woozy,” he answered. Akiko helped him into his wheelchair and wheeled him to his bedroom. She again helped him settle in bed and covered him. 

She noticed he was quietly gasping for air.

“Is it difficult to breathe?” she asked him. 

He nodded. 

“Shall I call the doctor?” she asked.

Again, he nodded. 

After calling the doctor, a male nurse arrived at their house. He checked Hiro’s oxygen levels. 

“His oxygen levels are low. Shall I call an ambulance?” he asked.

Hiro nodded.

The nurse called the ambulance. Then he turned to Hiro and asked which of several hospitals he wanted to go to.

Hiro had been in the hospital before. Due to the coronavirus pandemic, visitation was restricted. Being in a hospital would mean he would not be able to see his family. He changed his mind.

“Well, if you don’t want an ambulance, shall I ask the doctor to come?” the nurse suggested.

Another nod from Hiro. 

While the nurse was busy on the phone canceling the ambulance and calling the doctor, his wife Akiko called their children that lived nearby. She explained that their dad was having difficulty breathing and that they should come right away. 

Before the doctor had even arrived, the children were at their father’s bedside. They had immediately dropped what they were doing and rushed to see him. Akiko sat beside Hiro, holding his hand and stroking it gently, comforting him. 

A few minutes later, the doctor arrived and pulled out his stethoscope. 

“There is no heartbeat,” he said. He checked the pulse.

“There is no pulse.”

The family hadn’t even realized that their father had died. 

“I have never seen such a peaceful death in all my life,” the nurse whispered.

After a peaceful death

Following the tradition of respect for the deceased, Hiro’s children went to get warm washcloths to clean his body. They gently wiped him, changed him into fresh pajamas, and then left him to rest for the night.

Arrangements had been made previously with the neighborhood funeral home, so they were aware of Hiro’s wishes for a quiet funeral with just his immediate family in attendance. When Akiko called them in the morning, people from the funeral home promptly came, carefully wrapped Hiro’s body in a white cloth, and lifted him onto a stretcher which they placed in the back of their vehicle. They brought him to the funeral home and prepared him for his otsuya, Buddhist wake. 

Akiko’s daughter called her friend who is a Buddhist priest, and he agreed to come to conduct the wake. That evening, the family lit incense, and the priest chanted and rang a large brass gong, releasing Hiro’s spirit into the next world. They placed flowers around him in the coffin and encouraged him to be strong and persevere in his journey into death.

The following day, they returned to the funeral home, placed more flowers around Hiro’s body, and said their goodbyes. The funeral home worker closed his coffin which was then carried to the hearse. Akiko rode in the hearse and her children followed in their cars, a quiet procession to the crematorium. 

Cremation

Hiro’s coffin was placed on a table with beautiful flower arrangements on either side. After Akiko and her children said a final farewell, a crematorium worker pushed Hiro’s body into the mouth of a giant furnace, and the thick metal door was securely shut.

Akiko pushed the button to start the fire. They heard a terrific roar as flames engulfed Hiro’s body. 

While they waited for the fire to do its work, Akiko and her children sat at a long table in another room of the crematorium and ate packed lunches. Other groups were seated around other long tables, eating and reminiscing while waiting for their loved ones’ cremations to finish.

After an hour or so, an announcement called for Akiko and her children to come to receive Hiro’s bones. His body had been pulled out of the furnace and now lay on a table. The coffin, flowers, and much of Hiro’s body were reduced to ash. Only the scorching hot bones remained.

The attendant held out a cloth to Akiko upon which lay a set of new, still green, long bamboo chopsticks. He repeated this with each of Hiro’s family members. They then pulled their chopsticks apart, breaking the thin white strips of paper that held them together at each end.

Starting at the feet, Akiko picked up pieces of bones one by one and passed them with the chopsticks to her children, who in turn used their chopsticks to place them in an urn. From the big toe, shin, thigh, all the way up to the “Buddha bone” of the throat, the hyoid, Hiro’s family placed a selection of bones in the urn. Lastly, they reached the skullcap, which the crematorium worker crushed, as is customary, and a piece of the skull was the final bone placed in the urn. 

The crematorium worker fitted a lid on the urn and placed it in a box. He wrapped the box with a white cloth and presented it to Akiko. 

She brought the bones back to her house and placed them on a makeshift altar in front of a large photo of Hiro. She lit incense for her husband’s spirit, praying for his strength during his first week of self-reflection in the afterlife.

49 days at home

During Hiro’s first seven days in the afterlife, he will reflect on his life and come to terms with his death. On the seventh day, he will meet the Buddha at a crossroads and choose the path which he feels best. During the next weeks, Hiro will meet with various apparitions and difficulties which he must fight to overcome. The prayers and incense of his loved ones will give him strength.

After 49 days of self-reflection, struggle, and overcoming, Hiro will be able to enter into the heavenly realm. On that 49th day, his bones will be taken to the family temple where they will be interred in the temple ossuary. 

Akiko will remain at home, keeping her husband company during the first 49 days. She will light incense for him. She will offer him tea, snacks, and his favorite beer. She will encourage him and pray for his strength.

Once Hiro is interred, he will have plenty of company among both the living and the dead at the temple. Akiko and his family will not forget him. They will visit him, and continue to hold regular memorial services for him.

How to express condolences in Japan

I searched for the proper words to write my friend Akiko after she told me that her husband had died. In case you find yourself in a similar situation, here is how to express condolences in Japanese:

この度は誠にご愁傷様でした。心よりお悔やみ申し上げます。お大事にしてください。

This is roughly equivalent to: “I am sorry for your loss. Please accept my sincerest condolences. Please take good care of yourself.”

Then, before visiting Akiko for the first time after her husband’s death, I wrote:

もし時間があればお伺いしてもよろしいでしょうか。ご主人様にお参りしたいです。

“If you have time, I would like to visit you and also pay my respects to your husband.”

Ten days after Hiro’s death, I visited Akiko. I knew she would have plenty of lilies, so I brought an assortment of spring flowers — plum blossoms, daffodils, and narcissus.

I placed a traditional envelope of a few used thousand yen bills on the altar for her husband. “Incense money,” it is euphemistically called. New money is reserved for celebratory occasions. Old money is exclusively used for funeral gifts. Three thousand yen is generally appropriate, as a too-generous gift could evoke an unwanted sense of the need to reciprocate.

I lit incense before Hiro’s photo and wished him well in the afterlife.

Respect for ancestors

How beautiful to be able to have such a relationship with one’s beloved after they have passed on. The family cleaning and preparing their father’s body for his final rest strikes me as natural and a perfect way to say goodbye and to start to gain closure after such a deep loss.

The 49 days with your loved one’s bones at home, as well as the regular visits to the grave and the various memorial ceremonies, seem to help the surviving family members ease into the loss of their loved one. They have time to grieve and to cope with their loss.

I wish I had had a similar opportunity to say goodbye to my parents instead of them having been whisked away to a morgue immediately after death. I said goodbye to my embalmed father in his coffin, then left him at the funeral home. After a church service the following day, he was buried in a large cemetery.

I dropped a rose onto his coffin in the grave while handfuls of dirt were tossed down by others.

In America, groundskeepers and volunteers maintain the graves, while in Japan the deceased’s family does. This is not to mourn their passing, but rather to pay their respects and keep them company.

After many years in Japan absorbing the culture, my children and I make it a point to visit my parents’ grave whenever we are able and likewise spend a little time with them, keeping them company.

Out of respect for Hiro and Akiko, I have not used their real names.

The post Death in Japan first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

Let me give you 5 reasons, starting with its history

Like many other Americans, I studied French in school. Sure, there were male and female words, a few odd quirks that differed from English, but all in all, it was relatively easy to learn. 

So what made learning Japanese so incredibly hard for me? In order to answer that question, we will first need some history.

A Little History of Written Japanese

In the 6th century, along with Buddhism, a system of laws, and many other things, Japan imported its writing system from China.

Naturally, Japan already had a language, so these imported Chinese characters — called kanji, 漢字, literally “Chinese characters,” in Japan — were used to represent words that already existed in spoken Japanese. Taking this into account, the ancient scholars of Nara decided that kanji should be read with both the Japanese and the Chinese pronunciations, depending on context.

The problem was that Japanese and Chinese grammar were completely different. Japanese is an agglutinative language, meaning it is short on subjects and long on verb endings which are added to give nuance and meaning to the sentence and to clarify the subject. Put simply, instead of a sentence consisting of subject plus verb like in English or old Chinese, in Japanese we have a verb plus suffixes and add-ons.

In order to accommodate this difference, the Nara scholars needed something to represent the sounds of those verb add-ons, particles, and other grammatical tidbits. So in addition to kanji used for words, they started using kanji to represent phonetic sounds. 

Using kanji simply for their phonetic sounds was called Manyōgana, and the first classical Japanese books were written in this form.

Complicating matters further, in some writings, a sentence would contain kanji used for their meanings and other kanji used only for their phonetics. At first, it was not standardized. That must have been very hard to read. Which was the word and which were the characters being used for phonetics?

As the years passed, writing out complex characters just for their phonetic pronunciation got to be a bit tiresome. So the ladies of the Heian (Kyoto) court developed a simplified cursive writing style for kanji which gave birth to the hiragana alphabet.

The world’s first novel, the Tale of the Genji, and the book of essays, The Pillow Book, are Heian era classics written by such courtly women.

In men’s more formal writing, bits of kanji were used to represent phonetic sounds, which became the katakana alphabet.

Hiragana and Katakana

Memorizing the two phonetic alphabets, hiragana and katakana, is the first step in learning Japanese. They are taught in kindergarten and again in the first year of elementary school.

Nowadays, hiragana is generally used for Japanese words and grammatical add-ons, and katakana is used for loanwords from languages other than Chinese. 

Children’s books have these phonetic symbols written beside the kanji that the children have not yet learned. The country follows an official curriculum, so learning kanji is standardized by grade level. After nine years of study, a child should be able to read the newspaper.

Kanji — the Queen of Challenges

There are 2,136 kanji designated by the Japanese Ministry of Education as “characters used in daily life,” as well as thousands more less-familiar ones. These thousands of kanji have been adapted and changed through the centuries, and they no longer necessarily resemble their Chinese antecedents.

Some kanji are easy. 山, read yama, mountain. It even looks like a mountain. Simple.

Some are not so easy, like this, 鬱, utsu, meaning depression. With a stroke count of 29, struggling to write it correctly can truly be depressing. 

Some kanji are simple but have different readings, like 生, meaning life, genuine, birth, raw, or even draft, when speaking of beer. According to my dictionary, it has 27 different readings!

How to Read Kanji 

Loosely speaking, when a character stands alone it is read with its Japanese pronunciation. When it is together with other characters, it is read with its inherited and adapted Chinese pronunciation. 

Take, for example, the word for the first light in the sky at dawn, or its metaphorical meaning, a ray of hope in the midst of despair — 曙光, shokō, its Chinese reading.

曙 by itself is read akebono, meaning daybreak. 光 by itself is read hikari, meaning light. Those are their Japanese readings.

Curious Kanji

Kanji words can bring up marvelous mental images.

稲妻, inazuma, means lightning. It uses the kanjis for 稲 “rice plant” and 妻 “wife.” The wife of a rice plant = lightning. 

Or one of the words for a snowflake, 雪花, yuki-bana. “Snow flower.” And the word for snow flurries is just as cute, 風花, kaza-bana. “Wind flowers.”

Or perhaps my favorite, the word for seahorse, 竜の落とし子, tatsu-no-otoshigo. “Bastard offspring of dragons.”

Before I leave the topic of kanji, allow me to introduce you to one of the more stroke-heavy characters.

This amazing work of art is the character, bonnō, meaning worldly desires. According to Buddhist teachings, man is tempted by 108 desires. Many of those desires are represented in this character, which takes 108 strokes to write. 

Four Big Challenges in Spoken Japanese

Now let’s take a look at some of the difficulties in mastering spoken Japanese.

Context

Depending on who you are speaking to, whether they are above you in social status, the same, or beneath you — generally someone younger— you use different verb endings, or even different words altogether.

Perhaps you are familiar with the Japanese custom of exchanging business cards when first meeting. Doing so helps one to know what language is appropriate to use with that person.

Keigo (pronounced kay-go)

This is very polite language that is used when addressing someone above you or older than you. It is hard. Help desks use it when I call for help. The 90-something-year-old owner of the seniors’ home where I teach uses it. 

When I am spoken to using keigo, if bowing and smiling isn’t sufficient, I ask them to please use more casual Japanese so my head does not explode.

There is another courtly type of polite Japanese used by the imperial family. In fact, when Emperor Hirohito gave his historic speech announcing the Japanese surrender that ended WWII, only the highly-educated could understand his imperial language. This caused a few unfortunate misunderstandings.

Culture

Culture is essential in learning any language, and none more so than Japanese. “Reading the air,” to borrow a Japanese expression, and noting what was left unsaid, is a crucial communication skill.

Japanese people are self-effacing, ambiguous, and indirect. Having a knowledge of Japan’s history and how its culture developed is essential to understanding the whys of the Japanese language.

Negatives

In English, we consider using two negatives in a sentence a no-no.

Not so in Japanese. My doctor was explaining my test results last week, and he used four negatives in one sentence. That’s a lot to keep track of! 

But that is normal, and even more normal for polite speech. 

Thankfully, the doctor was kind enough to repeat the information in one short simple sentence, with 1/20th the word count. 

A Final Word on Learning Japanese

With all these hurdles to conquer — kanji, context, keigo, culture, and all those negatives in one sentence — I doubt I will ever become truly fluent in Japanese. But I will certainly keep trying!

The post Why is Learning Japanese So Hard? first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.