Sowing The Moon Teahouse

Preface to Journal

December 12, 2011

This is a journal, written on a iPad (mostly with 2 fingers) during a trip to Japan in November 2011. Earlier versions and parts of it were sent to friends as e-mails. I also took lots of photos.

(personal history)

My first trip to Japan was in 1980. At that time I was living at San Francisco Zen Center - City Center, after almost two difficult years training at Tassajara. I had sewn a rakusu and received the precepts from the abbot, Richard Baker, but wasn't close to him and it didn't look like I would enter priest training (and he was the only teacher with whom this would have been possible.) With severe and persistent back problems, I had begun working for a downtown law firm as a paralegal in order to earn funds for medical care. I began questioning my relationship to Zen Center. What was the point? Should I continue? It seemed like it would be good to take a break. Perhaps Paris for a year. At the end of the year I received a $1,000 bonus check from the law firm. This was a huge amount of money for me and I decided to definitely go away, and then from some distance decide whether I really wanted to come back and commit to Zen training.

At this point, stories differ. My memory is that Reb Anderson - (later Abbot Tenshin Zenki) - told me that Zen Center had been renting a small house in Kyoto for the very occasional use of the abbot should he decide to pay a visit. There was a small room available; I could have it for a nominal rent.

Shortly before leaving, I met (by chance), through the head of Sokoji, the Soto Shu temple in Japantown, a friend of his, Fukita Takamichi, a Japanese man studying Sanskrit at UC Berkeley. "Be sure to give my parents a call," he said. "They live in Kyoto." I took the address and relegated it to the bottom of the list of things I was likely to do.

Suzuki Okusan, with whom I had barely begun to study Tea (Omotesenke / ryakubon), gave me a pair of white chopsticks and instructed me to reply "o kage sama de" if someone inquired about my health."

So off I went for about six months of living in the Zen Center house in Hanazono, near Myoshinji - studying Japanese, teaching English, seeing a "seitai" practitioner for my back (one train, two buses each way), eventually calling the Fukitas and then going to live with them (in a detached cottage) at their Jodo-Shu temple at Gentaku-sta, in the Northern part of Kyoto. Sitting zazen just up the road at Seitai-an, meeting the most wonderful people such as Shohaku Okumura, Daigaku Rumme (then at Hossinji), Tom Wright. These connections were my first experience of what I later heard referred to as "en" - 縁. Affinity, relation, connection.

I re-connected with Peter and Jane Schneider who I had known briefly before they left Zen Center after Suzuki Roshi's death. I practiced for a short time at a tiny Zen temple in the mountains near Hida Takayama and visited the new Antaiji on the Japan Sea.

Eventually I decided that I did want to resume Zen training, preferably where I could understand the language, returned to San Francisco, and then soon to Green Gulch.

I had been in Japan for one year.

The second trip to Japan was in 1997-98, to study at Midorikai. This was after I had been ordained as a priest, after many more years training at Tassajara, after serving as Shuso, after returning to Green Gulch and being director, and after the death of Jerry Fuller, who was to have been our tea teacher. Christy Bartlett Sensei, who had become my tea teacher after Nakamura Sensei returned to Japan, said that since Jerry died, someone at Zen Center would have to go to Japan to learn how to take care of the tea house, and I was the most likely candidate. Tenshin Roshi, with whom I had ordained, agreed, though not immediately.

My next trip to Japan was a short visit in 2002 with a group from Zen Center to attend memorial services for Dogen Zenji (750 years) at Eiheiji (and a week in Kyoto for me and Susan O'Connell). Then in 2004 I attended a month-long special training program at Zuioji, a Soto Shu monastery on Shikoku, culminating in special ceremonies at Sojiji and Eiheiji. Afterwards, I visited my friend Britt Gershon in Yokohama, and spent a week in Kyoto. I remember staggering back to Fukita-San's, where I was staying, ladden with pieces of bamboo to carve, and a bag of heavy ceramic okashi molds. She lent me an old suitcase to get everything home in.

And then no long trips for a while. My parents were getting older and I spent a lot of time with them. Last year I was invited to a Mountain Seat Ceremony in Hiroshima, and Bettina and I discussed the possibility of a longer trip, following that event. Then my mother went into the hospital and I cancelled everything. She wanted me to travel, she encouraged it and loved to hear stories of where I had been (even as she became unable to really understand) - a weekend in L.A., a short trip to New York. But she didn't want me to be away for long. My father died in 2008, at the age of 98. Having been married to him for 72 years my mother wasn't terribly interested in living without him, and died last January. She would have enjoyed - and been amazed - hearing about this trip.

Travel Companion

Bettina Mueller and I had been discussing a trip to Japan for well over a year. Our interests coincide in many ways. We both practice Zen - she is a Rinzai practitioner, but has practiced at Green Gulch, which is where we first met, in the 80's. We both practice tea, studying with Christy Bartlett Sensei of the Urasenke Foundation, though since Bettina moved to New York her studies have been rather infrequent. She is an accomplished cook and a brilliant writer, and has published a much-loved book on tea and kaiseki cooking. We are both very interested in making okashi; I probably have more experience, there is not so much demand for Japanese sweets in the small town of Tivoli. We are both interested in Japanese gardening, and specifically the roji. I have been working on the Green Gulch roji for years now; she has built a small tea house in her yard and is now making a roji as well. In addition to all the above, we get along well and enjoy each other's company. I couldn't think of a better traveling companion. My gratitude to her, and to the universe, for each day of this trip being a great day.

Broken arm

And - perhaps I should mention: 10 days before our departure date, trying to get higher up to take a photo of work on the new gate to our roji, I stepped on a garden cart that started to roll downhill, spilling me out. I landed with an unusual-looking right arm, intense pain, and then some queasiness which I was told was a sign of shock. Mike Laine immediately brought me an ice pack, Sala arrived and advised me to keep moving my fingers, Thiemo and Gyokuden materialized and said they would get a car and take to to Marin General emergency room. I am deeply grateful for so much help at exactly the right time. It turned out that both arm bones were broken. Several days later Arlene drove me to a clinic in Pinole for surgery: 2 stainless steel pins were inserted, and the arm encased in a splint and bandages. I envisioned these "pins" as little shining jewels, which would be miraculously disappeared when the time came.

Needless to say, I had very little use of my right hand during the trip and relied on a lot of help, especially from Bettina.

Last week, back to Pinole, the surgeon unwrapped the bandages and there they were: not delicate jewels, but 2 brilliant green plastic knobs sticking out of my arm. He pulled (twisted and yanked), and 2 long nails emerged from my arm. It was helpful that I didn't have an accurate picture of what was holding my arm together; my own version was more comforting. The splint and bandages come off today. Then a long process of working with a physical therapist. I hope to be able to whisk tea soon.

Trip Outline

Bettina and I spent almost a week in Kyoto, staying at the Three Sisters Inn in the Okazaki area, near Higashiyama, within walking distance of the Tetsugakki no Michi, Nanzenji, and Ginkakuji.

We were then joined by Keiko Wright and Karen Sherman, tea students at Green Gulch, and the 4 of us took the train to Karatsu where we stayed in a ryokan and visited kilns.

Then back to Kyoto, where with a group from the San Francisco Shuchojo we attended Sotanki and other activities at Urasenke, and then went to Kaga Onsen for a lacquer workshop with master craftsman Maehata Shunsai, and to Yamanaka to visit the Ohi Museum (and meet the Ohi family) and to visit Miyazaki Kanchi, 14th generation kettle maker. Most of the group left at that point; Bettina and I returned to Kyoto for a few more days.

Thursday Nov. 11. Journal #1

Each day here in Kyoto has been magical and wonderful; people opening their hearts and lives to us, and sharing wonderful things, but today has been the most magical of all.

We were picked up this morning by Shibano Masaaki, a friend of one of my tea students, who I met 2 weeks ago when he was visiting the Bay Area. He took us to a chashaku carving class, held in a classroom high up in the Kyoto Renaissance Bldg, a modern triangular high-rise across from Kyoto Station. He had actually shown me this bldg on Google Earth on his iPad when he was at Green Gulch, and I was confident that we could get there by bus, but when he offered to pick us up and take us there, I was happy to accept. It seemed like an ordinary office bldg., grey nondescript walls. Entering the classroom, there was a slight slope up to floor level. I barely caught myself in time: take shoes off and put them in rack; put on a pair of the slippers provided. Students were already there, finding places to sit, getting out there equipment and supplies; knives, small saws, pieces of bamboo, chashaku-in-process.

Shibano-San has been studying with, and is now also assisting Kagata Akishi Sensei, a master bamboo craftsman. I had met Kagata Sensei in 2004. I was in Kyoto, and looking for bamboo to carve chashaku, had gone to his shop, Takehei, which I probably knew about because it has a website, partially in English, made by his son Junji. My conversation with Kagata Sensei at that time was limited due to my poor Japanese, but I felt his great warmth. He presented me with a small smoked bamboo chashaku when I left. I had no idea that he was an award-winning craftsman of chashaku and bamboo hanaire. Some years later, when Keiko Wright was going to Kyoto I told her about the shop. When she returned she had with her another gift for me from Kagata Sensei - a piece of unusual bamboo, just large enough to make a chashaku.

So I felt a great connection with him, and was determined to attend the class even though I would only be able to observe. Bettina and I were treated as honored guests, due, of course not to any particular virtue of our own, but because we came so improbably and from so far away. Since I could not carve anything, I had even more of an opportunity to watch closely and to take lots of pictures. After the 3 hour class, they took us to lunch at a supremely elegant restaurant at the Gran Via Hotel in Kyoto train station, where I had a cafe au lait and very delicate tea-type sandwich, white bread with crusts cut off, Kyoto style. Sensei at this point looking like a businessman with a huge suitcase, no observer could know that it was full of beautiful pieces of bamboo, and all kinds of fabulous hand wrought carving knives, saws, and other esoteric and traditional tools.

Then, the 4 of us back into Masaaki's BMW and a ride to Sensei's house and shop. I had been here many years ago, but not into the inner sanctum. First, we meet his wife and son, and sit down for a cup of tea. Then a tour of the bamboo warehouse, a huge collection. Bettina and I are rapidly learning the names of many different types of bamboo;, moso, cloud pattern, smoked, sesame seed. Up very steep stairs, down extremely narrow aisles, crowded by thousands of bamboo poles.

We pass by tanks of goldfish that he is raising. In another tank are babies, recently hatched.

His workshop is in the back - a table, good lighting, a little slanted platform to hold the piece of bamboo, several knives and small saws, a small alcohol burner. He takes a small piece of bamboo, moistens it, lights the burner, holds it over the flame, and within a few minutes is able to bend and twist it as though it were toffee. He plunges it into cold water, then takes a piece of string and quickly ties the ends, maintaining it in the position he wants. Then he takes another, already bent piece and starts carving, rapid, strong, sure strokes of the knife. We are having a private chashaku carving lesson, even more intense and personal than the one we already participated in in the morning. A few minutes of carving, a few finishing strokes with a file, and the chashaku is finished. In the morning class he had carved and given one to me, naming it "Yujo," - "Friendship".

Then, upstairs in the house, to see his collection of bamboo baskets of which he is clearly very proud. Masaaki says he goes early early - 5 am - to the monthly Toji flea mkt to search out rare treasures. He has many museum-quality pieces, and shows us pictures of them in some books and magazines. He clearly loves and appreciates them very much. We are beginning to feel overwhelmed by seeing so much fine craftsmanship and artistry, not to mention his generosity and kindness in spending so much time with us.

Then the next room - more baskets, and some fabulous bamboo vases which he made. Truly beautiful. They are from the very base of a large culm, with a ring or more of root showing. Part of the artistry is in choosing the bamboo piece, deciding how much of the root to show, what angles to make the cut. Some of these vases have won awards and also are featured in magazines.

There is one more room we are invited into. This has been a process of going deeper and deeper into this artist 's life and work. We are now in the presence of years and years of his work, which, as we learn later, he has opened and laid out just for us. It is not usually on display. On a shelf are neatly arranged, perhaps close to 100 chashaku, all neatly arranged in specially made boxes. He begins to pull various ones out and show them to us. We are allowed to touch them and look closely. Then, on the table, He produces some cloth pouches, probably sewn by his wife, each designed to neatly hold at least 20 chashaku. We are astounded and delighted. Then more, then yet another. There are hundreds, perhaps thousands of tea scoops, each different from the other. Different types of bamboo, different colors, different styles of carving, different shapes. There is no end to this. Now we are all laughing, drunk with delight and admiration.

I didn't think to mention - this is a traditional Kyoto house. We are upstairs in a tatami room, sitting around a low table. Across the room is a large deeply polished red-brown bamboo pole, rooted in the floor. Is it holding up the ceiling? A piece of sculpture? Somehow, it is deeply satisfying. I wonder, how much is our intimacy increased by all being on the floor together.

Sensei is a superb craftsman, with a warm smile and open heart. He is devoted to his craft and very happy to be sharing it with us. We are amazed, awestruck . I have never seen such work. His earlier scoops are lovely, beautifully shaped and curved, skillfully carved, elegant, perfect. His later, more recent ones bring us to tears. They are rougher, the knife strokes visible, not sanded over, imperfect, irregular. It is in these scoops that I sense he is able to open his heart and reveal himself.

By now I am thinking of him as my teacher. I have been carving chashaku for a long time, and have learned from others and from books, but have never actually had a teacher. I am encouraged by seeing how his work has changed over the years. I don't have to throw away everything I have done up to now. I can grow and learn from it. I ask if I can come back and join his class in the future. "Yes," he says, either the class, or here, privately in his workshop. I am so happy to have such a teacher, my heart is over-flowing with gratitude.

But There is still more - he shows us his project of making copies of 100 famous tea scoops carved by ancient masters, such as Rikyu's Namida. He has found photographs, blown them up to actual size, measured the angles of their bends, and found bamboo that looks very much like the originals. His copies are amazing, perfect, very beautiful, a labor of love.

And one last display - 10 or 15 chashaku laid out on a cloth on the floor, each with a case, not yet inscribed with a name. He invites us to each choose one. As if we haven't received enough, we are now each being given a tea scoop with a case. While we look and make our choices, he goes off to get his box of calligraphy materials - brushes, inks tone, ink. The scoops we are looking at are made from a variety of types of bamboo, but I am looking not so much at the bamboo, as at his knife strokes, and easily find the one that I will take home to treasure and be inspired by. It is Goma-dake, and because the 'landscape' suggests water to him, he names it "Kamo-gawa," the large, broad river that flows through Kyoto. The pure water and culture of ancient Kyoto, flowing down through many centuries and many hands, connecting us, never ending.

Journal # 2

Yesterday, by chance Bettina and I saw an exhibit of Karatsu ceramics at Takashimaya. It was incredibly wonderful - I think I liked it more than any ceramics I have ever seen, anywhere. The artist - Mashimizu Zoroku IV - works in several different styles, incl Chosen Karatsu, and very elegant work reminiscent of Ninsei. We learn that he has a studio near Katsura Rikyu and another in Karatsu. His tea bowls are in the $5,000 (and up) range, so needless to say, we did not acquire any. There was a ryurei set-up, with someone making tea. We sat down and were offered okashi and matcha; Bettina was served in exactly the chawan that she had earlier seen and most coveted. Afterwards, the natsume and chashaku were placed for haiken. Everyone else had left, but of course we wanted to look closely. (We learn later that the hanto is a teacher at Urasenke. Luckily, we were on our best behavior. We are learning that wherever we go in Kyoto, we are not invisible.) The natsume was very elegant - mubyo (6 gourds); chashaku was made by Tantansai, Gomei - Mura Shigure. (Village Rain)

We had been hoping to go to a museum later in the day, but this exhibit more than satisfied our desire to see excellent chadogu.

Kyoto Journal # 3

Wednesday, Nov 16

This morning we got up early-ish, had a western bkfst - white fluffy toast, orange juice, a little bit of delicious Bulgarian yogurt, scrambled eggs, and coffee. Usually we have a huge wonderful Japanese bkfst, but it is much more work for the kitchen to prepare, and they can't do it so early. Also, we knew we would be having a special kaiseki meal for lunch, so didn't want so much for bkfst.

I dressed in kimono and kairyo-e for the first time here. Bettina wore kimono, and through Kay - the owner of the Three Sisters Inn Annex where we are staying - who has become our friend and advisor - had engaged a local woman, a kimono professional to come and help her get dressed. I know nothing about the art of kimono wearing, and have never been terribly interested in it, but I watched this morning, and was greatly impressed by her skill and speed. Bettina has worn kimono before, and knew basically how to do it, but under this woman's deft hands she transformed into true Kyoto elegance. The kimono lady gave my obi and kimono a few tugs also, which made a huge difference. I was able to wear kimono and kairyo-e all day without it all separating and coming apart. This was a first.

After dressing, we set off, in tabi and new zori, for Daitokuji.

This is a new stage of our trip. Rather than deciding on our own what we want to do and when we want to do it, we are now part of the Urasenke group, here to study, and must absolutely be on time and ready for each planned event. We have, in fact, been studying and closely observing since we arrived, but this now the formal study begins. It was a beautiful clear day. A little colder, but mercifully, no rain. We met the others at Daitokuji. Some had just arrived from SF; we have now been here in Japan for 10 days, and feel quite at home. We went to Juko-in, a Daitokuji sub-temple (there are 23), established over 400 years ago by a wealthy daimyo as a family funereal (mortuary) temple. The abbot, Kankai Roshi, showed us around. The basic layout and architecture, I think, is typical of Daitokuji. The main hall has beautiful sumie paintings by Kano Eitoku, the main, central enshrined statue is the warlord-founder! Shakyamuni Buddha is to his side. Outside the hall is a veranda, facing a very nice kare-sansui garden.

Then he took us to see, on the other side of the temple, a small tea room built by Rikyu - very very nice. A shitaji (sp?) mado, plain Pine toko bashira with bark left on, plain clay walls. Very wabi. Outside, a fabulous, small roji, tsukubai sunk low in the ground, a wonderful stone lantern - round pillar, square light box, round mushroom-shaped cap, and one more round stone on top. Was it forbidden to take pictures? I was desperately trying to look closely and remember details.

Then we went out to the small cemetery. This was the main point of our visit - to pay our respects to the founder, Sen Rikyu, and to the 3rd generation, Sen Sotan. This has been the Sen family temple since the 16th century, all of the family grave sites are here. One by one, we bow and pour water over stones. I find it very moving to be able to offer gratitude to the ancestors who taught and established the practice of Tea, without whom our lives would be very different. I see - at last - a lantern that I think would be perfect for our roji. Round column, square light box, mushroom cap. No frills.

After Jukoin, a short break, a little free time in which a few of manage to visit another temple, Kohrin-an, with a tea room designed by Oribe. As a nun, I am not charged for entry. Then lunch at Ikyu, a famous kaiseki restaurant across the street. Delicious vegetarian food, many different dishes, incl. some black tofu-type dish made with Daitokuji natto - a local specialty.

Then - time to go to Urasenke for the first time, to again pay our respects to Rikyu, this time at the "Rikyu Onsodo," (basically, a kaisando - founder's hall), in the Urasenke complex. This is the part of Kyoto I am the most familiar with, and it is wonderful to go down the streets where I used to ride my bike to class when I was in Midorikai. Walking down Ogawa Dori, a narrow, ordinary street, all of a sudden we are in front of the famous Kabutomon - Helmet Gate. We see the moist, welcoming roji path, hedged on both sides, seen in so many photographs. Some of us walked, some came by taxi. There is a taxi in front of the gate. Christy turns to a student and sternly says that it is extremely rude to get out of a taxi right in front of Kabutomon. (I am getting the sense that this gate is like an altar; it is the entryway to the hallowed inner sanctum.). "I walked," she says. We all breathe a sigh of relief. Etiquette is intense here. This is the epicenter of Japanese culture. Whatever any of us do will reflect on our teacher; we all want to do our best. We are met by someone from the international dept of Urasenke and invited to enter. The low bamboo pole across the entrance is removed by the guard -who later doubles as a helpful camera shutter-pusher when we take group pictures. We enter.

This is the old complex of tea rooms, built as a place of retirement by Sen Sotan, Rikyu's grandson, in the 17th century. The gardens and tea rooms serve as the standard, world-wide, for tea house architecture. Of course, there are many others as well, but Konnichian is sort of like the Vatican. The rooms and hallways are humble, low-ceilinged; we are all filled with awe to actually be here.

In one of the tearooms Fushida Gyotei Sensei makes tea for us, a special treat that we had not expected. Luckily, we have all brought our tea accoutrements, and all goes well. I, however, can not find my pick - I discover later that it is impossible for me to use it anyway - and must eat with my fingers. Some others evidently have also neglected to bring picks, and the Gyotei sensei remarks that sweets taste best when one directly bites into them. We have all heard stories, and seen pictures of dour, extremely strict Gyotei sensei, but Fushida Gyotei sensei turns out to be warm and friendly with a good sense of humor. His temae is seamless and flowing; very beautiful. The sweets are delicious, the best (of many) we have had so far. In the shape of a persimmon.

Then we are divided into English and Japanese-speaking groups and given a wonderful tour of the tearooms. My group is led by Gretchen Mittwer, who seems determined to be as informative and helpful as possible in the time allotted.

Afterwards we visit some of the neighborhood chadogu shops; much looking at beautiful things with stunningly high prices. I buy almost nothing.

At our last stop, Tankosha, a shop owned by Urasenke, I am surprised when a clerk comes up to me and says that I have a phone call. It is Shibano-san. How did he know that we were in that shop at that moment? And why did he need to call just then? I will probably never know, but I am almost getting used to such things.

Thursday, Nov. 17

This was another big day. Again, kimono, etc., and a taxi to Urasenke. We gather at the Chado Kaikan, not the historic tearooms, but a bldg across the street with lovely tea rooms, built by Tantansai, the grandfather of the present iemoto.

We gather in a large tearoom - about 20 of us from SF and 5 or 6 from Boston, and 6 Gyotei sensei. Long, slow bows of greeting and a recitation of the Urasenke creed. The little bits of the Japanese that I understand are quite moving (opening one's heart and entering the way.....), and I think that perhaps, finally, after all these years it is time for me to memorize it.

We are divided into small groups for class. I am in a beautiful, tea room - Houn - which opens onto a great roji. Our teacher is Goto Gyotei Sensei, who turns out to be patient, friendly, and welcoming of questions. I had wondered if I would be stuck in a corner, since with my broken arm I can't really handle utensils properly, but he didn't seem fazed at all and helped me out as a guest by handing me the tea bowl and other dogu. The afternoon teacher was similarly helpful and although I couldn't make tea, I observed and learned a lot. One surprising point was the large amount of tea that they encouraged everyone to use. I drank 2 enormous bowls of koicha.

After the class, Bettina and I wander around a bit, come 'home' to change clothes and rest a bit and then set out to look for dinner. After sitting in the tea room all day we are happy to go for a bit of a walk. We come across a small neighborhood shop with lovely patterned tabi socks. Just the thing to wear with our new cedar zori which we found in Karatsu. We consider various small restaurants and finally settle on one that looks cozy and inviting, although the menu outside is entirely in Japanese and I can decipher very little of it. The proprietress starts to show us to a table, but then in a back corner we see 3 friends from San Francisco - from our Urasenke study group; two of them still wearing kimono. How we managed to choose the same obscure place to have dinner is just another of the magical encounters that seem to happen daily. The restaurant has only low tables, and so after a painful day of sitting in seiza, we are in seiza again, but it no longer matters. They recommend oden - very plain, country fare; simmered vegetables, konnyaku, kamaboko, a hard boiled egg. Also, tofu dengaku which turns out to be soft and silky inside with a very light crust and 3 different miso toppings. Everything is absolutely delicious and very inexpensive.

Friday, Nov. 18

Today is a "free day" and we have all (Keiko, Karen, Bettina and I) been invited to tea and lunch with Fukita-San, the woman who I lived with for 6 months in 1980. She now must be in her 80s. Her house is connected to a Jodo Shu temple which has been in her family for generations. She was a friend of Nakamura Sensei who lived across the street from her, and who introduced her to tea.

She has ordered obentos from Wakuden, a famous restaurant near Daitokuji that had been highly recommended to us and where we had been hoping to eat. The little wooden boxes, wrapped in beautiful paper are filled with beautiful and delicious food. We have a wonderful talk, helped greatly by Keiko. In the past, Fukita-San and I would talk for hours but she tends to go very fast and thinks I understand more Japanese than I actually do. We look around the large temple complex. The main hall is 350 years old and was brought from Myoshinji, which surprises me since it is Rinzai Zen. The Teahouse is also old, and was brought from another temple and rebuilt. When I was in Midorikai my roommate and I came and had tea with her there. Now it is closed up and unused. Fukita-San has serious hip problems and hasn't been able to do tea for several years. The gardens, however, are beautiful and well cared for, and we take lots of photos.

Afterwards, Bettina and I go back to look around Daitokuji a little more, and run into Richard Milgrim and his wife, a potter who lives just north of Kyoto for half the year. This is one more, surprise, chance meeting and I tell him about the amazing encounter with the hairdresser whose friend in SF I know. He assures me that Kyoto indeed is a magical place where magical connections happen.

Journal # 4

Saturday, Nov. 19

This is The Big Day - the day of Sotanki - the annual memorial tea gathering around which this whole trip has been planned.

I have set my clock for 5:45. We have to eat, dress, and be out of here by 7:15 in order to meet at the Chado Shiryo Kaikan at 7:45. I am trying to remember the names of the various bldgs in the Urasenke complex; they all sound almost the same.

Bettina and I have bought bkfst food the night before as we will be leaving too early to have bkfst here at Three Sisters. Heavy rain is forecast, which worries us. The friend we ran into yesterday at Daitokuji, a veteran of many such events has warned us that we will spend hours waiting in seiza in addition to the hours in the actual teas. We are anticipating the event with some trepidation.

I get up, eat some yogurt and persimmon and have tepid tea from the thermos in my room, and get somewhat dressed. When I open my door I find that Kay, the owner of this inn - the eldest of the "three sisters" - has carefully cut up some plastic bags and made some sort of clever rain boots for both of us, and left them outside our doors. I don't need it, however, as I bought rain zoris at Matsumotoya last week.

The kimono lady has arrived and is helping Bettina. I take a few pictures, especially of her obi-tying method. Kay has offered to lend an obi to Bettina; it is stunning, and just the right colors to go with her kimono. Somehow we leave ahead of schedule, at 7:00. It is pouring. A few minutes of apprehension on Marutamachi dori which is almost devoid of all traffic, incl. taxis. Then we signal one going East; he makes a quick u-turn and scoops us up. We arrive at the appointed place quite dry, at 7:15. We meet the others in our group and settle in - happily on benches - for a long wait ( the first of many).

Hundreds of people are attending this event - mostly ladies in kimono- and it has been organized very well. Everyone must leave everything in this first bldg as there is no place to store personal belongings in the historic tearooms. We must check handbags, raincoats, even our shoes and umbrellas here, carrying only a small bag of essential tea things (kaishi, etc). We are then given zori and an umbrella, so we can go in and out of bldgs without having to find our own shoes (which would be impossible for everyone, except possibly me, since very few people are wearing big clunky monk-type zori).

Eventually we are led through the rain to Ogawa dori, through Kabutomon, the garden gleaming dark green. In an entry space we line up, sit and wait. Christy, Glenn, and a man who I later learn teaches in Finland are summoned, and hurry off. After a while we are escorted into Totsutotsusai, which has been totally transformed from the 12 mat tearoom we visited several days previously. Many many fusuma have been removed in order to make a vast tearoom. I am sure that there are well over 100 people here. Christy and the other 2 foreign teachers have been invited - along with 7 other dignitaries - to sit in front, in effect, in the tearoom, while the rest of us will be observers of this tea gathering. By chance, I am seated in one of the very best places - close to the front and directly facing the temaeza. But also - we are on the side where there are only 3 rows of people and no one is behind us. If I kneel, I can see everything. This is fabulous; I am very lucky. Unfortunately, most of the 'observers' will not actually be able to actually see the iemoto as he makes tea.

The scroll in the toko is a drawing of Sotan, since this tea is his memorial. There are vases of flowers, an incense burner and an offering of sweets on what is, in effect an altar. Also a hanging vase with flowers.

There is a shin nuri daisu with a red Raku chawan/ dai.

Zabosai Oiemoto sits at what would be the door to the tearoom if all the fusuma hadn't been removed, and we all bow with him. He makes a bowl of tea (without whisking). It reminds me of the memorial tea I made for Mom - though it is of course more formal and complex. Daisosho enters, takes the bowl and offers it to Sotan. He chants something very low; I barely hear - it sounds like the 4 Bodhisattva vows.

[while writing this I am watching TV for the first time here - a Tokugawa soap opera, of which I understand perhaps 2 %. The old, much loved father is dying, and Hidetada is about to take over.]

Sweets are offered to the 10 honored guests - I later learn that the first guest is a major major donor- and then Oiemoto makes koicha for them.

The rain is still pouring down, and from inside the tearoom, it is a wonderful sound, a symphony.

After this tea we pass through a display of historic and wonderful tea utensils. A kaiki - record of all the utensils used in the gathering - has been beautifully written and posted on a wall. I am sad that I can't read it ( I make out a few words - mizusashi, Hana ire). Some people are photographing it and I hope to get a translation later.

[I guess he didn't die after all. Now he is looking at a ladybug and smiling.

Oops ~ now he is dead. They are all sitting in front of an altar with hands in gassho.]

Outside, on the street, I hear firewatch clappers. ( this is Kyoto real time - 8:30 p m, Sunday, not the movie.)

Ok - back to yesterday.

We leave Konnichian through the daidokoro the old "great kitchen" - a row of old, no longer used wood-fire rice burners, high ceiling with huge beams. This is where, when I was in Midorikai, we would come monthly to line up and receive our (cash) stipend envelopes from Daisosho, who was then Oiemoto.

We slip into Zoris, grab un umbrella, and go across the street to the Chado Kaikan, where we had class 2 days before. Everyone has been assigned to a group and there is a kind of musical chairs of going to 3 different tea gatherings in 3 different bldgs, plus lunch in a 4th location. One of the places is about a block away, which is quite difficult for women in expensive silk kimono and no raincoat. They all hike their kimono up, slips showing, and try to avoid puddles.

We have 3 bowls of excellent tea, 3 sweets from the best okashi shops, incl. ginnan mochi from Kawabata Doki, made with ginkgo nuts from the tree planted by Sotan.

Journal # 5

Saturday, nov 19

Amazingly, after hours in seiza, Bettina and I have the energy, after returning to Three Sisters and changing our clothes, to go out again. The rain has stopped, it is mild, and we want to walk. We head toward Gion, planning to take a bus, but they are full and it is impossible to get on. Everyone is going that way. We pass the restaurant where we ate several nights previously and I lost a tiny stuffed animal wearing a kimono. (yes, I did buy such a thing. It was ¥350, and adorable.) Of course, it was on a shelf by the door, waiting for me to retrieve it. A few days previously, Bettina had left her favorite hanky in another restaurant. When we returned, they handed it to her, all neatly folded.)

We end up walking all the way to Takashimaya- Shijjo & Kawaramachi.

I buy a kimono string, a modest purchase, and then go to the old / disabled folks dept where I buy special easy-to-use left-handed chopsticks. I can now use my right thumb and 2 fingers, but because of the splint can't bend my wrist to get food into my mouth with my right hand. Bettina is on a mission to find tabi - white with little flowers - to wear with her Karatsu wooden zoris - like the women we saw in the train station had. The sales clerk tells her she would have to go to Tokyo; they don't have that style in Kyoto.

At 7:00, right on time, we meet Keiko and Karen at the front entrance. (we would never be able to coordinate this sort of thing without cell phones.) they are with Nemo and Bodhi, who we have heard so much about and are happy to finally meet. Also, a friend of theirs, a Japanese woman who, with her husband, restored fusuma at Nijo-jo. She seems lovely and interesting, but she has to go home.

The five of us go off to a restaurant - an izakaya - where the chef is a good friend of Nemo and Bodhi (Americans who speak fluent Japanese and have a business arranging kind of arts-oriented tours. So they know the most amazing people.) I forgot to say that Keiko's mother is also with us. We all sit at the bar; Nemo and Keiko do most of the ordering: oden, fried oysters, tuna tataki, tofu, various chicken and meat dishes for those who eat such things, sashimi, seaweed, lots of beer, sake, and shochu. The chef and the owner, a woman, join us in drinking. Another friend arrives - a gardener who works at Shinju-an ( famous garden at Daitokuji) amongst other places. He is a large, strong-looking man. He, Nemo, and Bodhi are on a team who carry a float in the Gion Matsuri. We talk about roji. If I want to buy a lantern, he can get it for me. This may be a good back-up plan. It is quite late, we are exhausted, and take a taxi home. The guys, go off to another bar for more drinking. It has been a wonderful evening, and an amazing day.