The Geisha

The Geisha

This artful entertainment,

Began in the 7th century 

With male exclusivity. 

1751 saw the entry of females

From where developed a most respected Japanese female professional.

Historically by the strikingly beautiful,

The most obedient and apt 

For learning and discipline, 

As many a sacrifice required. 

From physic maintenance

To unquestioned availability 

With renouncement of any personal life.

Learning of the arts,

Developing intellectual prowess,

All for the utmost professional engagement

Yet individualized and tailored hostessing.

Once taken/sold into a Hanaachi, Flower Town,

Becoming part of an Okiya*

Training began, sometimes as early as in the pre-teens.

As a maiko*

Learning to dance, sing

Perhaps play the samisen*

Navigate the host and his guests;

Each geisha working to develop

A customer base

Loyal for her particular services.

As such, Mineko Iwasaki, 

Became the most renown giesha

At the young age of 21years. 

Today, a mere 1000 exist 

Primarily in the Gion district of Kyoto.

With white powdered face

Stature of a queen, 

Maided by her maiko

Chauffeured to her teahouse.

An upheld culture,

By those even more dedicated 

Than their predecessors,

To a heritage and history

As modern technologies, tourism,

Misunderstandings invade 

Their traditions and values.

Privileged to witness

Such an art, a dedication 

By women with stout independence.

I’m humbled in their presence 

For sustaining a feminine standard 

Of the highest integrity and honor. 

Hiroshima

Countless children at school

Workmen at construction sites,

All unknowingly said a final goodbye that morning…

A white to grey plumage rose to the sky

As crimson red flames scorched the ground

Soon a black radioactive rain showered down.

The range of pain that ensued 

Completely breaks the heart

Churns the stomach

Depresses the mind to non-functional.

This the feeling 80yrs later 

Viewing the Children’s memorial

The Atomic Bomb Dome

Names, endless names…..

Reading the personal stories, 

Mothers’ searching for their children

Orphaned children housed by strangers,

All burnt, scarred, mammed, or with post exposure sickness.

City, housing, families, lives

Destroyed or left unrecognizable.

Mass destruction followed by 

Prolonged suffering and ugly painful deaths.

A truth known by the rest of us from history class 

This 3D evidence 

Even when second hand, 

Screams volumes 

Lessons learnt but easily forgotten 

Time, distance 

Poor excuses.

Are we not at a precipice 

Where so easily 

We could repeat history?

Only with greater

Far reaching force and destruction?

Our power is limitless 

As darkness and light.

Now is the time for unity 

To prevent another Hiroshima.

Acknowledge the pains of past atrocities, 

Claim the light, kindness and understanding from within

Let today’s children never have to learn and visit further new memorial sites.

Nepal to Nara

The man, Siddharthar Gautama,

Of Indian decent 

Known now across all continents.

‘Princedom’ childhood

Protected and privileged 

Lap of luxury.

Curiosity of a tender 

Wholesome heart.

Peeking beyond the fortress

Tears of realization, 

Suffering is omnipresent

Nirvana is not created.

With stillness,

Acceptance, 

Came actualization.

Everything has its place 

Dharma, Karma, Samsara.

With responsibility taken

Each can find our Buddha within;

Enlightenment to tread this earth

Free of entrapments, suffering.

The path from Nepal

The spirit of Buddha

Sits giant-like 

In Todaji Temple,

Surrounded 

By the bowing deer of Nara.

Gazing up

To the height and depth 

Of this monumental form,

My spirit expands 

With a knowingness, 

That it is only my stillness

That brings

My samsara,

My nirvana,

Right here, right now;

Which ever corner 

Of the planet I sit. 

Samurai

Dedicated 

Diligent

Disciplined

In practice  

In principle

In progress.

Consistent 

Committed

Conscious 

To history

To honor

To heritage.

Where is the ‘Samurai’ of today??

Are they not the men, women of our armed forces?

Do we not ask of them this?

Barrack training when young and impressionable

Indoctrinated to preserve the homeland,

Returning scarred, at times flesh wounds none to seen

Injured down to the soul.

How can we pay homage to such sacrifices?

How do we expect this unquestioned service?

Perhaps a return to respecting and upholding 

Our forefathers,

Their wisdom, their foresight.

Making clear

To acknowledge our privilege,

Our priorities.

Standing by

Our promises

Our patrons, fellow countrymen 

Allies and mankind.

May the heart of the Samurai 

Be known to us today,

May the humility,

The character 

The sanctity be preserved.

May each man 

Each woman 

Take stock of what can be lost 

When traditions, culture 

Values and knowledge

Are compromised

And worse still, disregarded.

Japan Waters Teach

In secluded Teahouses, 

Shrines surprising on any given dori,

Onsens, lakes and glistening stalactites;

Water everywhere is revered…

Quenching

Rejuvenating 

Exhilarating 

Purifying…

Immerse into Onsen waters,

Healing heat and minerals

Weightlessness teaches trust

Promise of nature’s caring protections.

Teahouses simmer waters ceremoniously,

With ‘Harmony’ between the articles and the environment 

Utmost ‘Respect’ of the process

Precision and care for ‘Purification’ 

All with ‘Silence’ and concentration.

Passing though a Tori, shrine after shrine 

Welcoming water wells and baths

Offer cleansing of the body,

Both inside and out.

Hosted by Hozu-gawa River

Floating along oar by oar,

Accompanied by scenic trains, birds

Along embankments and bridges alike 

Until a squeezed passageway

Between silver grey boulders 

Rocking and splashing,

Rapids, cool and drench…

What of this liquid

Colorless

Tasteless

Yet infinitely irreplaceable!

Unique to the Pale Blue Dot.

I hold you in my cupped hands,

You kiss my surrendering lips 

You run through my veins

Synchronized to life itself.

Anticipating Japan

Islands pieced together 

Around lakes, mountains 

Hills and plains

From snow topped Mt. Fuji, Arashiyara Bamboo Forest and Nara Park 

To Hiroshima’s peace bell

Nature’s delights to human demolition

The sword of the invincible Samuri

The demure and enduring Geishas 

Monks, priest, their shrines and temples

From looming Tokyo SkyTree Tower and TMG building

To the frenzy of Shibuya Scramble  

The amazement of Team Lab Planets

To the tranquility

Of Cherry Blossoms in Sumida Park

Languid picnic-ing with sips of sake….

Ahhh the Red Sun awaits 

With promise of Onsen waters 

And endless matcha and Butter Butler pastries…

Can’t wait to meet you 

My brothers, sisters 

Of a culture, language and history

That’s already captured my heart!

The Hidden

Source of all creation,
Sort for in disguise
As power, status,
Accumulated accolades and acquisitions.

Fluid yet omnipresent,
Like the soft drizzle of rain
Slowly, flowing and circling
Back to the seas.

We are that drop
Manifested of love
Looking for love,
Lost in the storms.

How delicate this play,
A scavenger hunt designed
Clues strewn in your path,
Undeniable beauty

In every bud, petal
Baby, cub,
Ancient story,
Familial feeling.

Filled with an intrigue
The search is endless,
Yet the prize sits
Literally under you nose.

If the thirst is sincerely evoked
The universe concedes.
With every stardust particle
Your true love, the union

Uncloaks, lays naked
And embraces.
Here is heaven on earth
And the game of love

Is truly afoot.
As now the longing and satiation
Can be played each day
With lover and love

All in one abode.
Know the temple, your own being
Feel the beloved ,as home
Is completely where your heart is.

Pained

Pain, pain go away

Come again another day

If you really have to!

What is pain

This feeling so disliked

With discomfort, anguish 

Turmoil and more?

But wait…

Is it not ultimately a balancer?

A reminder?

That our painless moments

So easily forgotten, 

Are so very priceless.

So letting this shower of pain,

Much like the rain,

Drench me right now

As my body defaults, 

And my mind revolts,

Leaving me not knowing whether 

To succumb to the noise,

Or smash out of the bubble

With neither quite possible.

I return to a stillness

Where there echos an ancient whisper 

Where my breath becomes my umbrella.

This place is my solace,

My palace without 

Walls, fortresses,

As no defense is necessary.

Simply boundless

Cosmic and ethereal, 

Putting back into place 

The futility of any fight.

Letting go

Unclenching 

Relaxing 

And with a flow of peace

The light of gratitude returns,

Darkness withdraws 

And with clarity, pain can be understood 

And even managed. 

Inferno

Innocent sparks ignite

A simple flicker to a glow of a flame 

Then a roaring fire to an acreage eating blaze!

The oxygenated wind 

In her bewildered dance

Is she swirling in a rage? 

Or like the birds

Horses, dogs and cats

Squirrels, skunks 

And even every man;

Is she obsessed in her flurry 

To escape?

Not knowing herself 

Her power 

Her realm,

She laps up the terrain 

Bring insufferable heat

Suffocating smoke and ash.

Man’s effort to defend, to fight

To save, to rally together 

Brings forth the hour of humanity.

Apocalyptic carnage 

Leaves molten metal,

Literal dust of all wood

Brick and mortar 

Homes and lives 

Emptied, destroyed, obliterated. 

Not a trinket left to salvage. 

What is this?

A lesson to be learnt?

Explanations galore!

From Politicians

Geophysicists 

And every pundit and priest.

‘But hasn’t it happened before?’

‘Oh but never so destructive,

Never as bad as this!’ 

They say.

Perhaps we encroached 

A little too far

In deserts, mountains, coast lines.

Where man is not exactly sustainable.

This planet, 

This space

For the span of your lifetime, 

Is a ‘rental’

We forget.

It was here before us,

And will be for sure, 

Here without us.

So put aside 

The finger pointing, 

The grievances 

The many explanations.

With coming together,

Understanding our nature 

Our opportunity,

Let hope and innovation flourish

Unity lead,

Humility and compassion serve

And respect be universe.

*”It is in the ‘darkness’ 

Of devastation, 

man made(war) or not,

Is when we need the ‘candle of light”

*paraphrased words of Prem Rawat