ON TOO MUCH OF A GOOD THING

the tale of the heike, much less famous than the tale of genji, should be better known. it chronicles the struggle for power between the minamoto and taira clans during the late 12th century, and is one of the prime literary examples of the foreboding sense of universal impermanence that pervaded japanese artistic sensibilities during that time (and into the present). the taira had ascended, but only two decades later the arrogance and shortsightedness of that house sowed the seeds of its own destruction. the taira's was a decadence of the truest sense, and its fall marked the end of japan's rule by a self-indulgent "cult of beauty" (the embodiment of genji) and the introduction of an austere, military power structure that defined japanese politics until its imperial restoration in 1869.

heike opens (and in a nutshell):

the sound of the gion shōja bells [they sounded when the historical buddha attained nirvana] echoes the impermanence of all things; the color of the sāla flowers [they bloomed on the same occasion] reveals the truth that the prosperous must decline. the proud do not endure, they are like a dream on a spring night; the mighty fall at last, they are as dust before the wind.

in other words, the taira got what was coming to them. how silly of us not to have heeded time tested advice.

it's strange and confusing, trying to find a voice at all, but then trying to find one in another language. they'll tell you it's wonderful, but they also won't shy away from pointing out the gaps, which means is all well and good enough, but not enough; and it's criticizable for the same reason it's laudable: because it's almost there. but that's also where confidence flags, and on the spot it gets spotty.

just let me be, tonight. yes, i'm afraid, but i won't say so. i'm sitting across from the woman responsible for inspiring japan to flamenco, and i don't want to second guess. i want to freely make mistakes and not wonder if she's laughing with me at what i said or because she couldn't help laughing at how i said it.

of course i know my way. i've lived here, and i'm living here now for all intents (my own, of course), but then i mistake the direction from which we've come out of the underground. i'm fine walking. i live in a place where it rains all the time. anyway, there's no quicker way on the subway. i can walk the underground passage to the metropolitan government building and then head north above ground from there. i would have found and read the signs to the west exit of the station without your help, but because you ask i'm given pause and pause.

it's the challenge of exposure, to anything, that time enough puts you face to face with that most difficult hurdle: knowing enough is enough to know how much further you still have to go. tonight, i still had to get from the metropolitan government building to home.

i was soaked, but my hat was decent enough not to let me feel it. tonight (although it's daytime there), portland is expecting snow. tonight, tokyo got the rain. i get it. i've been gone too long, and clear skies couldn't last forever. as for you, portland, you've been too long without a master. "there's no point in running away. never run away, all you find is yourself. there's nothing else to find."

there's not a bit of this in what i wanted to say. so, it would seem that i heeded that advice after all. the tale of the heike. it'll only hurt for a second.