Harry-san and the Jisei of a Crazy Gaijin

Since I live in a "twilight world", a place between life and death where neither dreams nor doubts have meaning, I may as well wish for the impossible as well as the possible. I have a picture of my retirement: to at long last return to my beloved Japans and live out my days as a crazy gaijin wandering the countryside. A floating world to explore at the merest whim, or to spend a day in quiet meditation facing the mountain, a teacup sitting beside me. The timeless breeze blowing upon my face rinsing the sins of a lifetime away.

Today, I had an Incident. A piece of wire punctured my leg. At first I tried to pursuade myself it was a pine needle but I knew. I flashed back to high school where I read in class the part of a man who died of a shaving cut. What a cheap death, I thought. But how keen am I on staying here anyway? So I thought to myself: to tetanus or not to tetanus? I chose life.

No small thing this. Find a clinic, wait for God knows how long, face the fear of a shot and the pain of payment. Ugh. Part of me was defiant. "I shouldn't have to take this!" By virtue of my homelessness, I argued, I should not have to endure any more than I already am. In my overthinking way I start to wonder: what does this mean? I settled only on a grudging resignation.

"I have my books and my poetry to protect me."
-Paul Simon

This same day I had bought a book of Japanese death poems (jisei) at my haven Barnes and Nobles. A death poem was often written by monks, poets, samurai and nobles as a way to sum up life in its final moments. (Did I mention that in my retirement I wished to be a world class haiku poet?) And in my book I took comfort in this:

Someone asked, "When one is confronted with disaster, how can one avoid it?"
[Famous Zen monk] Joshu said, "Thats it!"
(The disaster lies only in the conciousness of "disaster". When you are in a given situation but do not define it, it is not "good" or "bad"; you simply react according to the circumstances.)

In other words: shit happens. I think Zen monks would appreciate the simplicity of that phrase. I, too, am a believer in Zen, that less is more. In the making of "Jaws", they found the shark became scarier the less it was directly shown as opposed to playing the shark music with the camera rushing along the water. The fear was in the imagining.

In this vein I composed my own haiku to hopefully snatch moments in time. On these things did I ponder: the dichotomy of the nightmare made of this dream world, the passing of our existence, the Zen of less is more and finally my jisei.

The noon sun grows high,
Flowers straining to reach it;
Swords glint before me.

The serene pebble
Lies at the base of the tree.
Night's shadow arrives.

Had I said nothing
As the flowers bloomed to life,
I'd have said the same.

Silent damages;
Lost in the forest of life
Hidden light burns bright.