It's been more than two months since I started learning to play the taiko with the Tawoo group with Kaoly Asano as our teacher. I experienced the therapeutic effect of playing the taiko the first time I came to one of their practice sessions, but it took me more than three months to write about my subsequent experiences with them. I had wondered what held me back, besides the usual busy-ness of a modern lifestyle, and it became clear that this experience has affected me so deeply in my core that I have been in the process of integrating it into my life on very many levels.

Some of the therapeutic benefits of taiko are quite obvious and perhaps ubiquitous to other forms of drumming as well, like the rhythmic energy that is stirred in the body and the coordination of body and mind. Because taiko is played together by a large number of people, the vibration and rhythm created by some forty people practicing together is so powerful and so direct that every cell in the body seems to be awaken, alive, and in sync with each beat.

But above all, I am most deeply moved by and filled with gratitude for the way that Kaoly teaches, for she teaches not only the skill and art of taiko drumming, but the art of living. True to all traditional Japanese art forms, especially those that end with "dou" (道), is the universality of its truths and its applicability to life. The character "dou" literally means path or way. Taiko's historical place in Japan lies in its inseparability from "matsuri" (Japanese festivals) and Shinto rites, and although its practice is not considered a "dou," Kaoly teaches it as one. In fact, the name of her taiko school, Tawoo, is Kaoly's choice of romanization of the word 道.

How can we play with ease? How do we allow sound and energy to flow through us? How can we be with our limitations? These are questions that Kaoly raises and strives to help each one of us find answers to through the taiko. She patiently watches over everyone and shares in our joy and laughter. I have a knowing that not only am I learning how to do these things with the taiko, but that this is the opportunity to practice how to live life with ease, how to stay open to experiences and allow them to flow through me, and how to unconditionally accept myself with gentle lovingness and kindness.

Four hours of Kyudo practice today after a 6-hour Taiko practice yesterday translates to shaky arms and unsteady hands. I've been in anticipation of my first Kyudo class in Japan at the Hachimangu Shrine, and finally it came. It started with what seemed to me a rather complex piece of clothing to put on, the hakama. I am certain that I won't be able to put it on again for the next class without asking for help from the instructors.

The lesson started by learning how to pay respect to Hachiman, the patron god of this shrine. Two bows, followed by two claps of the hands, and then a final bow. We learnt how we're expected to walk while in the dojo, landing not with the heel but the ball of foot. Making turns involves a very precise positioning of the back foot against the front foot and turning it by 90 degrees. Other important movements included how to make a 180-degree turn while standing and 90-degree turns when in kiza.

The rest of the lesson was spent in learning how to put on the glove on the right hand and practicing on rubber bows, which are used in lieu of the real bow while learning the various movements. I thought that the web space between my left thumb and index fingers wouldn't hold up to the practice, having developed a huge blister from Taiko practice the day before. Unbelievably, after two hours of pulling on these high-resistance rubber bows, something shifted and not only was the pain much more bearable, I became unconscious of it and felt much more present in the movements.

This past week was spent at the Karuna Institute with 14 other people who have been on a life journey with me for almost two years. Many unforgettable moments together, many more precious learnings. Synchronicity and serendipity, or perhaps karma, brought us together and in that space we had the opportunity, support and holding to visit places of vulnerability and divinity within ourselves that wouldn't have been possible without an unbudging commitment to authenticity and connection.

My deepest appreciation to all of you -- Denise, Di, Dirk, Franklyn, Heather, Ian Rees, Ian Strang, Jen, Lama Lobsang, Maggie, Mari, Marianne, Maura, Ng Yin, Robyn Michele.

Class photo: [Back row, from left] Dirk, Ian Rees (tutor); [Middle row, from left] Mari, Di, Marianne, me, Robyn Michele, Denise, Ian Strang; [Front row, from left] Heather, Ng Yin, Franklyn (tutor), Maggie, Maura (tutor)

Wooden boddhisattvas that I carved to represent and give to each person, including Lama Lobsang, a Tibetan monk who is a friend, and who although is not part of the class, feels like an essential companion on this journey for me: [Back row, from left] Dirk, Ian Strang, Di, Heather, Ng Yin, Mari, Maggie; [Front row, from left] me (carved by Ogasawara Sensei), Ian Rees, Lama Lobsang, Marianne, Maura, Franklyn, Robyn Michele, Denise

久しぶりに京都へ旅行に行ったときに新京極で民芸品などを見ていたら、職人ぽい刃物屋さん（源久秀）が目について、中に入ったら小笠原先生の使っている木彫りの刀に似ているものが幾つもありました。話し出したら店主の久世芳弘さんがすごく優しくて、いろいろ教えてくれました。私にとっては刀の世界は全く未知の世界なので、何を質問していいのかも分かりませんでした。すぐに小笠原先生にメールを書いて、アドバイスを求めました。先生は幾つのポイントを教えてくれましたが、決め方としてはやはり手で持っていいと思うものが良いと言われました。その通りにしてみたら、写真のものが一番自分の手に合うと思いました。選んだものは重房作の切出小刀の６分のもので、鋼が炭素鋼のものでした。

店主の久世さんによると重房作のものは高額の包丁がほとんどで小刀は珍しいみたいです。有名の刃物の工房なのでしょうが、私にとっては自分の刀を持って自宅でも木彫できるのをすごく楽しみにしています〜！


正面 | Front side of knife

彫る前｜Before (高さ：8.5cm | Height: 8.5cm)３回目の仏さまの木彫りに行ってきました。小笠原先生が気長く朝の１０時から夕方の６時まで付き合ってくれて、指導してくれました。今までは先生が途中まで彫ってくれた木片を私たちが最後まで彫ったのですが、今回は四角の木片からスタートしました。どきどきしました。

今日は池田君、しょうことイオ、一家三人そろって来てくれたから凄く嬉しかったですが、しょうこは左目が結膜炎で木彫りは出来ませんでした。池田君とイオと里華と私、４人生徒で始まった木彫りクラスはなんと２ヶ月の間に８人ぐらいの集まりになりました。

今日の集まりは朝からだったので、途中昼ご飯の休みがあって、皆でばおばぶのオーナーの信代さんが作ってくれた雑穀おにぎりと豆スープ、そしてはばおばぶケーキとコーヒーやチャイをお話ししながら楽しく頂きました。

イオはまだ８歳で手が小さくて、四角の木片から彫れなかったので、仏さまの木彫りを早く仕上げて店の手伝いを一生懸命していた姿が可愛かったです。

今日は有意義な一日を過ごせて、幸せいっぱいで夢と睡眠の時間を迎えます。皆と緊張のないリラックスとした空間の中で、こころの中にいる仏さまを木で形にすることを共有できるというのは本当に幸せです。


完成 | After (高さ：8.5cm | Height: 8.5cm)This is my third wood carving class with Ogasawara Sensei at Baobab Cafe. Ogasawara Sensei lives in Zushi, but comes to Kanazawa Bunko to teach us woodcarving every last Sunday of the month. He brings us all the knives and wood pieces that we need and patiently explains and demonstrates every step.

Ogasawara Sensei considers this coming together of people for the purpose of carving Buddhist figures a meeting of "縁" (en), which is usually translated as "fate." Although he spends the whole day with us and brings us all the materials that we need, all he takes is a token 500 yen from every person. The only off-day he has is Sunday and on top of having dedicated his last Sunday to our group, he also teaches another group in Zushi on the third Sunday of every month. As I sit here to write about him, I realize that I haven't taken the time to really feel the immensity of his dedication and the immensity of the gift that I am receiving. I realize how unfamiliar it is to receive such a precious gift -- the gift of time, attention and dedication. As I give time to really feel it, my body learns to slowly let the realization trickle through.

Our group started two months ago, with four members: myself, Rika, Ikeda-kun and his 8-year old daughter, Io. Today, there are eight of us, seated around a large table, carving away. When we started two months ago, we would carve for about 5-6 hours using wooden pieces that Ogasawara Sensei has already worked through half-way. Today, we have taken on the challenge to start carving from a rectangular piece of wood, as shown in the first photo, and sat together for 8 hours. Io, being only eight years old and has small hands, could not physically handle the larger piece of wood and so worked on one that sensei had already started on and completed her figure before lunch time. She spent the afternoon helping Nobuyo run the cafe instead. It's an understatement to say that she really enjoyed herself.  :-)

It's been 5 days since my Taiko "taiken" (tryout or trial) with the Tawoo group and I'm still left immersed in the energy of that experience. The group's founder, Kaoly Asano was teaching that night. As I walked into a group of mainly women preparing, moving, placing taikos of all sizes in the huge hall in the basement of the Akihabara Ward Center (Community Center), I was met by Nori's lovely smile who received me and showed me where to change and gave me a brief introduction to the group and their activities.

I started reading the literature on the group and realized that Kaoly Asano created it back in 1997. So I walked over to Nori and asked if Kaoly still plays with the group, and she pointed to a lady in the center of the room, who was still intent in moving the drums to their precise positions. To say the least, I was surprised that Kaoly is a very small-built, thin woman but with a great mane for hair. I looked on with great curiosity and anticipation.

But nothing was to bring me back so immediately into my body and senses as her first beat on the taiko. From that moment, I was mesmerized in body and soul as I watched and listened to her. I was seeing and in the presence of a shaman, a healer, an artist, a performer, a woman, all in one expression. My mind, when it did find a moment to interrupt the pure experience I was in, floundered in disbelief and a desperate attempt at a logical explanation for how such a sound could be produced by so small a person. The auditorium could easily seat 200 people and the ceiling is probably 30 feet high and yet the sound from Kaoly's drums wrapped around us as if we were all cuddled closely together. I watched and participated for 3 hours that night. It felt like I had come from a shamanic gathering and that I've been blessed with a transmission. It became clear that Kaoly was playing, not from her body, but from her soul, her spirit.

I will never forget this experience. I couldn't. It's in my body. Its expression was clear and direct. No interference of mind, space or time. I was in tears, touched deep in my soul and filled with joy to know that there are probably many people out there in this world, during this time when I am alive, living out their dreams, their destinies, their talents and gifts in such a beautiful and healing way. I was happy to be alive. Happy to be back in Japan.

今晩は旧正月の大晦日なんだ。何か寂しい気がします。今の時間だと、家族と親戚と皆でレストランでワーワー騒いでいるはずだ。特に楽しみしていたのはいとこ達に会えることだった。普段だったらうるさ過ぎる環境だけど、中国正月の時期になっても静かなのはどこかで不気味に感じる。

人生の中で３分の１の時間しか家族と過ごしていないのに、文化というものはしっかり無意識の底に染み付いていると、長く生きれば生きるほど思うようになった。去年の芥川賞の候補になった在日中国人の楊逸（ヤン・イー）さんの話を英字新聞で読んだ時もそう思った。彼女は日本で人生の半分を過ごして、私より何十倍も日本語が出来てもやはり主人公を中国人しか描けないと言ったのは自分の心のどこかで密かに共鳴している。だって、マレーシアを13歳の時に出て、欧米で半分以上の歳月を過ごしていて、人間は誰もが基本的なところは共通の存在しか持っていないということが心身で分かっているのに、今生の家族背景を選んで生まれ変わった私の感受性はやはりマレーシアのアジア人だ。

４０歳の中国正月はジョニーデップの血だらけの映画とインド料理で過ごした。ハハハ・・・

新年快樂（サン・ニン・ファイ・ロック）、恭喜發財（コン・ヘイ・ファッ・チョイ）

It's Chinese New Year's eve, and I remember being excited about seeing my cousins, some of whom I didn't see in a whole year. The quiet in Japan during this period evokes subtle feelings of discomfort, as if something is missing. The laughter, the loud voices, the food, gambling, children running in all directions, firecrackers, the sense of family and community.

I've spent more than two-thirds of my life away from home, in foreign lands which I had wanted to claim for my own, but I remain a Chinese Malaysian. Whatever does that mean? Nothing more than childhood experiences that made the first imprint in my life this time around, and from which grew my sensibilities to life. It was just a few days ago while I was reading an online newspaper article about Yang Yi, the Chinese writer who was nominated for the prestigious Akutagawa literary award in Japan, that I was deeply moved by my own resonances to what she said. She's lived in Japan for half her life and uses the Japanese language like a native speaker, or perhaps even more, and yet she professes that her protagonists can only be Chinese because that's who she is, and knows.

The truth of non-separation and the interconnectedness of all life is indeed the absolute truth, and yet on the level of relative truth, our diversity and our unique expression of life is what makes for life itself. Again, I'm reminded of how easily I can forget that ultimate truth is the balance and coexistence of both absolute and relative truths. Not one is better than the other and we cannot live only in the world of absolute truth.

Happy New Year! Kung Hei Fatt Choy!

Finally, the blog is up, what with all its imperfections. Some missing pages, many broken links, unbalanced layout, etc. But I feel inspired to write my first blog entry. Mostly, I'm feeling a lot of appreciation for my friend, Ikeda-kun, who's not only helped me put my website together, but also patiently and quietly sat next to me for hours, listening, thinking, and teaching me. Although it seems like the fruit of our labour and his patience is the launching of the website itself, for me the website is only an immense windfall of the time spent together. What I am left with is a deep warmth in my heart.

If I stay with that feeling long enough, I see that it reaches a place where the heart is ever so lightly quivering in a familiar posture, isolated and alone. Quivering from the possibility of opening to receive such unfamiliar attention and expression of love given to me. What if this isn't real? What if it doesn't last? What if it won't be offered again? These seem to be the statements held in that energetic tension.

As I give myself time to experience this process, the quivering dissipates, softness fills my chest area and I don't feel the contours of my heart. It's as if it's blended into my chest and become one with it.

What an unexpected little journey writing this entry took me on. This is what a good therapy session feels like. I know that to be true. Thank you, Ikeda-kun. Thank you.