笠羅漢 (kasa rakan) "The statues with straw hats"

...my own completely inadequate translation! A "kasa" is a straw hat, and a "rakan" is in Chinese "luohan" or in Sanskrit "arhat" - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rakan (Am I the only person who sees "arhat" and thinks "asshat"? I hope not!)

In this cartoon version of a Japanese folk story (Manga Nippon Mukashibanashi), the old couple find they have no food or money to buy food, so the old man goes off to town to sell the straw hats he has been making. On the way he is caught in a rain storm, and seeks shelter in a grove with sixteen rakan. He decides they need the straw hats more than he needs food, so gives his hats to them and goes home. [By the way, the old woman is ok with this - he apologises for not bringing back any food and she says that his giving the hats to the rakan is just the sort of thing she likes about him - which makes him blush!] That night, the couple are visited by a ghostly procession bearing a coffin, which the pall bearers leave behind. In it is a treasury of "koban" - gold coins. By the door they find one of the old man's hats, and when they visit the rakan they see that one of them is hatless. So, they know that the riches they received were given by the rakan! And they lived happily ever after...

It's a beautifully illustrated story, and it reminds me of a simpler time when gods seemed closer and more intimately entwined in daily life.

Also, for those seeking the solitude of the mountain hut, the couple's house is perfect - in a bamboo grove, with little by way of furniture or decoration. Something to learn from, in many ways.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=at8JhEgEb8g

Chuffed

Gosh, I seem to have *actual real people* reading the blog. How very kind of you!

Just when I thought peace was reigning upstairs (I think the noisy bloke has been replaced by another less noisy bloke) I now have recurring drama in the form of a young girl who likes to have very public outpourings of drunken grief, especially in the wee small hours. This block used to be so quiet! *sigh*

I've become interested in the case of a missing boy in the US, Hasanni Campbell. Poor mite was reportedly kidnapped back in August and hasn't been found, but the parents (foster parents) never seemed quite right in their protestations. I'm sure it's too late for the lad now, but what a waste of a tiny life. Here's a jizo for you, Hasanni!

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jizo

In Japan, Kṣitigarbha, known as Jizō, or Ojizō-sama as he is respectfully known, is one of the most loved of all Japanese divinities. His statues are a common sight, especially by roadsides and in graveyards. Traditionally, he is seen as the guardian of children, particularly children who died before their parents.

Relief

Deeeeep breath.

The conference is over, my paper went well, I survived the slobbering dogs at my friend's house, and got home and retrieved kitty from the cattery. AND I finally got my laptop back from the computer shop - 2 weeks!! I'm caught up on my Facebook responsibilities (FarmTown, Pet Society) and I picked up my dry cleaned coat today, so I can move on with the velvet sleeve and collar things. First day back at work today and am pretty worn out. Now I can concentrate on cataloguing the books which have recently arrived, and have a look at that serials cancellation spreadsheet. *sigh*

It's reasonably quiet here - I think the male half of the upstairs couple is away, and he's most of the problem. Maybe she dumped him? I can only hope.

Still have to put away all the laundry I did when I got back from Sydney, and there's nowhere to put it. Seriously, I need to go through my wardrobe and get rid of about half of it. I don't even know what's in the depths at the back! And the difficulty of searching for one item of clothing when your bag is black and so are all the clothes inside... Something to think about before I travel again!

Exhausted

Dear readers (of which I think there may be none!), once again a month has passed and not much has happened here at The Mountain Hut. Well, I did manage to catch bronchitis and end up staying home in bed for more than 2 weeks, so that's one achievement! *koff* I can't recommend the experience, really.

So I had two and a bit weeks of enjoying even more closeness with my noisy neighbours upstairs, but at least the cat was thrilled I was home all day, every day, and in bed!! Must have been in kitty heaven. Now the house is cold and dark and I leave for hours at a time. Poor puss.

Speaking of which, hasn't it been a week for celebrities shuffling off this mortal coil? Michael Jackson, Farrah Fawcett, Karl Malden, Mollie Sugden.... All rather sad, but Karl was 94 or something, and Mollie 86, so that's a pretty good innings. RIP Mrs Slocombe, and your fabulous collection of wigs!

Yikes!

Doesn't time fly? A few nice posts then: "Blog? What blog?" I can only admit to spending far too much of my time on Facebook (which my 5 year old nephew got me signed up for...) or generally doing things like having the flooring replaced in my apartment, and going to work and occasionally getting sick and staying in bed.

So, not too much happening at The Mountain Hut, especially not in terms of peace and quiet. The Chinese student couple who moved in upstairs earlier in the year are SO DAMNED NOISY I seriously hope they move out when their lease is up. Nothing destroys your Zen-like quiet like this couple yelling a conversation at each other while one is in the bedroom and the other is in the bathroom taking a shower. FFS!

Peace, calm, Zen-like..... **deep breath**

Poetry

You know, I really don't like poetry. It's sort of flowery and useless and if you want to get an emotion across, just damn well say what you mean! So, it's not a word I like to use, or indeed something I tend to read. Unless it's funny, like Banjo Paterson's Mulga Bill's Bicycle.

I recently found a card in my letter box inviting (nay, inciting!) me to join a simple living group. It sounded good, the website is www.simplicitycollective.com, but then the group itself is called (wait for it) "The Life Poets' Simplicity Collective: a poetic alternative to consumer culture".

Why do I have to be a Life Poet? Couldn't it have been Life Builder? Or Life Definer? Or even cut the flowery junk and just call it the Simplicity Collective? Eek.

It makes me think of dear old simplicity forefather Henry David Thoreau. Even the oft-quoted Walden is, I find, a bit flowery and poetic - well, Thoreau was a poet, too. Walden also illustrates for me the poetic - or shall we say impractical - side of simplicity and simple living.

Solitude

So, the mountain hut is where I'd like to be, but in reality probably would never get to. And after the bushfires in Victoria the past few weeks, would it be a good place to be?

I'm fascinated by the monastic, retired, eremetic, simple living idea. A small living space, few possessions, contemplating life while working a small vegetable patch... Hmm, probably a bit idealistic.

One of my favourite "mountain hut" stories is by Kamo no Chōmei (鴨長明: 1155 – 1216), titled "Hōjōki" (方丈記: The Ten Foot Square Hut). This is the description of the hut:

If I compare it to the cottage of my middle years it is not a hundredth of the size. Thus as old age draws on my hut has grown smaller and smaller. It is a cottage of quite a peculiar kind, for it is only ten feet square and less than seven feet high, and as I did not decide to fix it in any definite place I did not choose the site by divination as usual. The walls are of rough plastered earth and the roof is of thatch. All the joints are hinged with metal so that if the situation no longer pleases me I can easily take it down and transport it elsewhere. And this can be done with very little labor, for the whole will only fill two cart-loads, and beyond the small wage of the carters nothing else is needed.

Now hidden deep in the fastnesses of Mount Hino, I have put up eaves projecting on the south side to keep off the sun and a small bamboo veranda beneath them. On the west is the shelf for the offerings of water and flowers to Buddha, and in the middle, against the western wall is a picture of Amida Buddha so arranged that the setting sun shines from between his brows as though he were emitting his ray of light, while on the doors of his shrine are painted pictures of Fugen and Fudo. Over the sliding doors on the north side is a little shelf on which stand three or four black leather cases containing some volumes of Japanese poems and music and a book of selections from the Buddhist Sutras. Beside these stand a harp and a lute, of the kind called folding harp and jointed lute. On the eastern side is a bundle of fern fronds and a mat of straw on which I sleep at night. In the eastern wall there is a window before which stands my writing-table. A fire-box beside my pillow in which I can make a fire of broken brushwood completes the furniture. To the north of my little hut I have made a tiny garden surrounded by a thin low brushwood fence so that I can grow various kinds of medicinal herbs. Such is the style of my unsubstantial cottage.

(from http://www.humanistictexts.org/kamo.htm)