an old writer and his words

  • SENSO-JI

    Walking slowly through the Hozomon GateSenso-ji lies before me, as if to say thisis your home in Tokyo, you are welcome here.I pause to take a photograph and realize thatto the Japanese here I am one more gaijinalthough I do not carry the shopping bagsthat most do from their fascination withthe stalls that crowd the…

    Lou Faber

  • ISLANDS

    I always loved visiting Japan,the Temples of Senso-ji, Todai-jiothers so small their names fadedas I walked away from them,for while I was gaijin, my zenmade them feel less alien.I enjoyed visits to Hawaii,the lushness of the landscape,the old whaling town, nowreduced to ash and ruin,the lava desert of the big island,the volcanoes, live and dormant.Everyone…

    Lou Faber

  • IN SILENCE

    Sitting in stillness, the silenceis at first shocking, deafeningin a way unimagined but there.Within the lack of sound liesa thousand sounds younever heard in the din of life.You hear the young monk at Senso-jiapproach the great bell and pullback on the log shu-moku, straining.You hear the laugh of school agedchildren hand in hand walking throughthe…

    Lou Faber

  • A RETURN SOMEDAY

    Some day I need to returnto Tokyo and walk its streetslistening for the soundtrackthat Haruki Murakami requiresof the city, bebop jazzin Shinjuku, classical whenwandering Asakusa and Senso-ji,and rock on the streets of Shibuya. I have often been there, butmy soundtrack was thatof horns and the clatterof a pachinko parlor, orthe pitched giggles of younggirls walking…

    Lou Faber

  • SENSO-JI

    They crowd the stalls, searchingamid what the Japanese would have to calltchotchkes if they were Jewish. Few bother to see the great Buddhapeereing out of the Buddha hallquestioning their judgment. They could buy their fortunesfor a mere hundred yen coin, but theybelieve it better spent here, This the marketplace formsa phalanx that makes a visitto…

    Lou Faber

  • A DEAFENING SILENCE

    Sitting in stillness, the silenceis at first shocking, deafeningin a way unimagined but there. Within the lack of sound liesa thousand sounds you hadnever heard in the din of life. You hear the young monk at Senso-jiapproach the great bell and pullback on the log shu-moku, straining. You hear the laugh of school agedchildren hand…

    Lou Faber

  • KENSHO

    Tonight, if all goes well, I will bea monk in a good-sized Buddhist temple.I am hoping it will be in Nara,at Todai-ji perhaps, or Asakusaat Senso-ji, or better still somewherein Kyoto, although it might well bein the Myanmar jungle or somewheredeep within the Laotian highlands. One problem with that world isthat I have no control…

    Lou Faber

  • NAMASTE

    There was a time, still withinmemory’s ever more tenuous graspthat I imagined myself, at this age,as a monk in a Buddhist templein Kyoto, that I had assumed a silenceimposed by lack of language, not faith. I am certain that the Japaneseare pleased that I let that dreampass unfulfilled, that I confinemy practice to that American…

    Lou Faber

  • BLOSSOM

    I remember the cherry treesalong the reflecting pool, thoughexcept in April they mostly reflecteda partially clouded sky promising rain. Their pinkness was a tone I havesearched for since, and cameclosest in Tokyo, jealous of the emperorand his gardens so carefully tended. It is that time again, and this yearas in so many past, I will…

    Lou Faber

  • RIVERS

    I have never been particularly one for rivers. Like everyone, I’ve walked along their shores, listened to them gurgle under remote bridges but otherwise never paid them much attention. There’s an old Buddhist saying you can’t step into the same river twice, but that presupposes you step into the river the first time. I remember…

    Lou Faber