Jun 2018
Plum Blessings
07/06/18 12:17
（ごめんなさい。今のところ、英語のみです。）
May 31. I was in Tokyo’s Nogizaka area and having arrived early for a meeting, as usual I went walking into the Nogi Shrine compound. It looked like rain would fall at any moment and it was very dark at 3:00 in the afternoon, but the stone lanterns were lit warming up the mood. Suddenly a wedding procession came out of the office buildings heading for the sanctuary. With just one big bright red umbrella (for the bride in her regal wedding kimono) it made a nice photo. Praise be to the threat of rain and best wishes and blessings for the couple getting wedded on this weekday afternoon.
I slipped off to the side to take some different photos and leave them in privacy. But my attention was drawn back to them when I heard live gagaku traditional Japanese music being performed on the sacred “stage” by 4 or 5 musicians. Its quite unusual to have live music at this kind of small wedding (usually its recorded music, at least that’s what the official wedding photographer told me). I didn’t have a recorder with me, so I turned on the compact camera and hit the video record button, not for the visuals, but to capture the music. (Having a good smart phone would have helped in this situation and unfortunately I seem to have also lost my good mini digital recorder I used to carry around in my waist pouch.) I was thinking maybe I could use some of the music in my new Kyoto movie. Afterward I talked to a shrine maiden who gave me the name of the music group, who aren’t part of the shrine but “freelance” or for hire for weddings etc.
Looking at my watch I was nearly late for my meeting by this time. As walked down the steps leaving the shrine, a green plum (symbol of the rainy season) fell off a tree I hadn’t even noticed and rolled to a stop at my feet. I scooped it up and put it in my pocket as a talisman. This plum from the Nogi Shrine is now shriveling up sitting in my studio, ready to be tossed into my garden along with a little prayer.
**A side note about “plum seeds”: I once read a novel that took place in Tibet, a spiritual peasant’s life tale (I forget the title). The old grandmother of the main character tells him to always return his plum seeds to the soil after eating the fruit. It was maybe 30 years ago that I read that book but I still follow her advice. Those who know me know I love the Japanese umeboshi salted plums. I eat them at home, and when traveling for energy and consider them a “medicinal” food. Most of them are homemade ones from trees in my garden. I always save the seeds to throw somewhere. Sometimes its on a patch of earth under a tree or in a flower planter in Tokyo, or I bring it home to my own garden. On the last trip to France, as I was emptying my pockets before going through security I found a dried seed I had forgotten about. So I stepped out of the terminal building to throw it on a spot of grass under some trees. A security guard was standing outside leaning against the building smoking a cigarette. I didn’t want any trouble so before I tossed it I showed it to him and told him what I was doing. “It’s a ritual, a tradition,” I said, “tossing a seed on the ground of the land I am visiting.” He smiled, more a laugh, and motioned for me to go for it. I pitched it under a tree then headed for my plane home. Always feels good to leave a bit of oneself behind.
May 31. I was in Tokyo’s Nogizaka area and having arrived early for a meeting, as usual I went walking into the Nogi Shrine compound. It looked like rain would fall at any moment and it was very dark at 3:00 in the afternoon, but the stone lanterns were lit warming up the mood. Suddenly a wedding procession came out of the office buildings heading for the sanctuary. With just one big bright red umbrella (for the bride in her regal wedding kimono) it made a nice photo. Praise be to the threat of rain and best wishes and blessings for the couple getting wedded on this weekday afternoon.
I slipped off to the side to take some different photos and leave them in privacy. But my attention was drawn back to them when I heard live gagaku traditional Japanese music being performed on the sacred “stage” by 4 or 5 musicians. Its quite unusual to have live music at this kind of small wedding (usually its recorded music, at least that’s what the official wedding photographer told me). I didn’t have a recorder with me, so I turned on the compact camera and hit the video record button, not for the visuals, but to capture the music. (Having a good smart phone would have helped in this situation and unfortunately I seem to have also lost my good mini digital recorder I used to carry around in my waist pouch.) I was thinking maybe I could use some of the music in my new Kyoto movie. Afterward I talked to a shrine maiden who gave me the name of the music group, who aren’t part of the shrine but “freelance” or for hire for weddings etc.
Looking at my watch I was nearly late for my meeting by this time. As walked down the steps leaving the shrine, a green plum (symbol of the rainy season) fell off a tree I hadn’t even noticed and rolled to a stop at my feet. I scooped it up and put it in my pocket as a talisman. This plum from the Nogi Shrine is now shriveling up sitting in my studio, ready to be tossed into my garden along with a little prayer.
**A side note about “plum seeds”: I once read a novel that took place in Tibet, a spiritual peasant’s life tale (I forget the title). The old grandmother of the main character tells him to always return his plum seeds to the soil after eating the fruit. It was maybe 30 years ago that I read that book but I still follow her advice. Those who know me know I love the Japanese umeboshi salted plums. I eat them at home, and when traveling for energy and consider them a “medicinal” food. Most of them are homemade ones from trees in my garden. I always save the seeds to throw somewhere. Sometimes its on a patch of earth under a tree or in a flower planter in Tokyo, or I bring it home to my own garden. On the last trip to France, as I was emptying my pockets before going through security I found a dried seed I had forgotten about. So I stepped out of the terminal building to throw it on a spot of grass under some trees. A security guard was standing outside leaning against the building smoking a cigarette. I didn’t want any trouble so before I tossed it I showed it to him and told him what I was doing. “It’s a ritual, a tradition,” I said, “tossing a seed on the ground of the land I am visiting.” He smiled, more a laugh, and motioned for me to go for it. I pitched it under a tree then headed for my plane home. Always feels good to leave a bit of oneself behind.
