The Temple of Dawn-- He loved climbing up the steep and narrow steps. Jagged pieces of Chinese ceramics and glass adorned the walls all the way to the top, reminding him of all the many boats that had for so long passed through this city of angels. From the top of the pagoda, the view overlooking the great river, with the city sprawling endlessly behind, never, ever, ceased to delight him.
But he missed Japan. And so with Rachmaninoff's tears playing in his head he sent her an e-mail.
I love Japanese rain, especially slow,
light rain at a Shinto shrine as it gets dark in the evening, just dark enough for color to disappear. When I am faraway, just thinking about rain dripping off a torii in the late evening makes me homesick for Japan. And so I listen to Rachmaninoff's tears and dream.
**
Moods and the rain. Robert Harrison, began his program on the Philosophy of Moods with an opening monologue about the rain in Rome.
"mood is a form of attunement between nature and spirit; between habitat and inhabitant"
And as he describes the autumn rain in Rome, I too am swept away in the mood of gathering clouds, overflowing waters. Streaking colors and a Roman deluge.
**
Most of the Dear Readers of These Pages will not be surprised to learn that at that very same moment that he was thinking of the rain in Bangkok, it was raining in Japan. Even a thousand years ago, the rains had been known as the plum rains (梅雨). Pronounced "meiyu" in Chinese and "tsuyu" in Japanese, the rains received their name on account of the fact that they coincide just about the time when the plums are ripening and growing heavy in the trees. And, the rains can be very so strong in that part of the world that they can literally drive the plums right off the branches.
In Japan, there are few holidays or events during the rainy month-- something rare for Japan-- just rain, rain and more rain.
A lady-in-waiting at the Heian Court, she spent her days lost in the rain.
In fact, the whole affair started in early summer as she watched the long rains fall from the skies-- day after day. She had by that time scandalized the court by her affair with the emperor's third son. Falling madly in love she was divorced by her husband and disinherited by her father. The Prince then up and died of the plague, leaving her to fend off the gossips and those who would have liked nothing more to banish her forever from the glorious capital.
And, so she sat watching the rain, which were a symbol of both her tears and her longing for him ("Him" being just ambiguous enough for by this time her feelings had shifted from the dead prince to his alive and younger brother).
He wrote to her:
You are thinking only of the long rains
Forever falling everywhere.
Into my heart also the rain falls–
Long melancholy days.
And she responded, for by this time she was almost overcome by longing. The fragrance of orange blossoms (tachibana), said to be the flowers of remembrance, had transported her feelings from one man to another.
The Court had reached its limits.
"But," pleaded Izumi Shikibu, "what is a girl to do?" She pleaded boredom and the season. Rains and fireflies and the scent of tachibana flowers, one couldn't help but be in the mood...
**
These shared moods that Dreyfus had suggested
Heidegger would point out that a minimally meaningful life requires sensitivity to the power of shared moods that give mattering to our world and unity and meaning to events
I am arguing reside in the finest details of our imagined shared experience.
Sepp Gumbrecht said that the concept is usually discussed in terms of the weather or music. It is also certainly felt in literature, poetry, place and art. And tying up my three posts on mood, I guess I come back to Bezdomny's worried words that in our age of bread and circuses, Any real enchantment or imagination any of us may have will immediately be shot down as the ravings of a nutjob.
**
So there you have it: A Moody Triptich
Part One: In the Mood with Heidegger
Part Two: In the Mood (online)
Part Three: In the Mood (Peony Plays the Piccolo)
Below: Annie Dillard quote sent by MW and music recommended by Honda-san, sitting atop Wat Arun in Bangkok, Thailand.
"The mockingbird took a single step into the air and dropped. His wings were still folded against his sides as though he were singing from a limb and not falling, accelerating thirty-two feet per second per second, through empty air. Just a breath before he would have been dashed to the ground, he unfurled his wings with exact, deliberate care, revealing the broad bars of white, spread his elegant, white-banded tail, and so floated onto the grass. I had just rounded a corner when his incouciant step caught my eye; there was no one else in sight. The fact of his free fall was like the old philosophical conundrum about the tree that falls in the forest. The answer must be, I think, that beauty and grace are performed whether or not we will or sense them. The least we can do is try to be there."
Coincidentally I baked a pflaumenkucken (plum cake) yesterday. This is a traditional German mid-summer treat & being of Teutonic heritage, something I enjoyed every summer. In Germany this is the only time of the year that it's made. I hadn't had one since my Aunt passed away in 1989 & even though I had to use red plums from California (Traditionally its made with those small, navy blue Italian prune plums.) it smelled great & tasted even better.
Posted by: M.W.Nolden | July 12, 2009 at 04:55 PM
I noticed! And it looks incredible!
Do you have it with tea or coffee? Does it smell like nutmeg? I think I told you that I did a very short translation about a German wine that is prepared warm and the wine has all these spices and is only drunk in the winter...I cannot for the life of me get it out of my mind. I love to hear about Germany's seasonal foods don't you?
Posted by: Peony (playing a piccolo) | July 12, 2009 at 05:11 PM
Also of interest via facebook:
A Qing historian posts this op-ed NYTimes article In Search of Dignity
And I posted this Kyoto Journal Interview with Maxine Hong Kingston
Finally this from salon.com on Buying Cheap
Posted by: Peony (playing a piccolo) | July 12, 2009 at 05:16 PM
梅雨 does have a lethargic and melancholy mood, suitable for fat plums and feelings shifting out of boredom. But the cold fine drizzle that sometimes falls between late autumn and winter feels fresher, and has a mysterious edge, especially at night; possibly because in spite of the rain, everything is dying, the leaves having fallen off the trees in Tokyo.
Can't think of any Japanese literature describing that kind of rain...
Posted by: Denske | July 12, 2009 at 08:04 PM
Coffee, of course!
Ideally with a generous dollop of whipped cream. This is Germany after all…
I actually took a few liberties with this one ~ the plums were, as I said, the wrong variety so instead of the usual sugar, cinnamon & nutmeg I substituted five spice powder for the nutmeg. Not particularly German but quite tasty & the aroma as it baked… The house smelled fantastic. This may have to be added to the menu for our picnic in paradise.
Boy, it always comes back to food for the two of us…
To hell with Heidegger, what's for dessert!
Posted by: M.W.Nolden | July 12, 2009 at 08:38 PM
Hi Denske,
The long rains of autumn are a much used image in waka, tanka and haiku. Did you know there is a poem in the kokinshu wondering if it isn't because of the long and cold autumn rain that the fall leaves change their colors? I love the fall rain, but my favorite rain in Japan are summer downpours 夕立。
Have you ever seen this book? When I get back to Japan I will loan you my copy. You would not believe all the words for rain!!
Posted by: Peony (playing a piccolo) | July 12, 2009 at 09:18 PM
Hi MW,
To hell with Heidegger, indeed. Plum cake and creme caramel for sure must be added to the menu... But you know what else we need? faloodeh
And what about no whipped cream but some drambuie in the coffee? Would that work? Or maybe both whipped cream and drambuie? I miss my drambuie... It is so terribly expensive here in LA (As you are well aware by now, I like my booze reasonably priced and watered down with soda water!)
Posted by: Peony (playing a piccolo) | July 12, 2009 at 09:28 PM