Just a phase?
When I started posting videos about hitoyogiri instead of shakuhachi, views dropped off a cliff. What I hadn't anticipated was the texture of the dismissal.
continue reading What Shomyo taught me about playing slowly
Shomyo is Buddhist chanting — the kind that would have been part of the daily soundscape for anyone living in Muromachi-era Japan. I've been trying, slowly, to build some of that scaffolding for myself.
continue readingThe quiet of a thatched roof
In Sokun's old manuscripts, we can read that the yuri in ichikotsu should begin like the quiet of a thatched roof. I have no idea what rain sounds like on a thatched roof — but a Zen monk from the 19th century pulled me directly into the scene.
continue readingHonkadori — where poetry and music meet
I stumbled on the word honkadori while reading about the poet Tonna. The meaning of this poetry rule describes very precisely the workings at the heart of hitoyogiri music.
continue readingThat name in the margins
I wasn't particularly interested in Ōmori Sōkun. His name would pop in my lessons but I hardly paid attention. He eventually managed to reach me the way most important things do — by appearing again and again until I stopped ignoring him.
continue readingIf you can swallow the West River
I've known about the Saikō-sui koan for a while now. It's engraved on Ōmori Sōkun's tombstone — along with a note saying it was upon hearing it that the master found his vocation.
continue readingThump — or, a symphony of destruction
This story begins on a damp Spring morning in Fukuoka, Japan, in 2020. I never wanted to go home ever again. Maybe in a way my wish came true.
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