Falling Into Happy Melancholy

Strolling over fallen leaves. The fall is at once so happy and then so melancholy. The undulating tone of life.



None of this is so bad. Right? Right? I'm not sure who will answer back on that one.



I sure end up in valleys quite often. Escaping the valleys carved in my mind by going to valleys. They continue to be barraged with earthly debris. The process hasn't ceased. My own valleys carry on the same.



How can anyone be happy with fall colors? This never occurred to me before. You just don't notice them and fix the problem.



What a shame I only get to see the curling refuse of maple leaves. Which is better, green or brown?



That poor tree in his quest for life grew himself into an inevitable corner of death. The longer he grows, the heavier he becomes. It all seemed worth the expense of photosynthesis. We all end up at a point where we can only heavily reflect and then fall.



Nobody is tending this roof. Do I prefer it that way?



There are always plenty of dark paths to wander into. Never forget it's half the fun just to light them up though. You don't have to settle in the dark and remember you might be happier to not be a bat. Then again does flying trump the ability of sight?



At least this bridge will never be one of the top three let downs in Japan. For that I'm feeling a bit happier.



Think typical autumn colors and you have hit success on this clever line.



We can't enjoy the crab soba if we keep being too melancholy.



Then we remember how the crabs were smashed and boiled to extract the brown meat floating on top.



Are ya melancholy again? I'm not. My stomach is full.



At once so happy and again so melancholy. Don't let the plants force you to believe it though.

Prime But Not Always Exact

There are many places we have been before.





There are many places that a million others have taken the same picture in.





There are many similar places we have looked at from far away.





Sometimes we can't decide what we are really looking at.





Then we recompose and see it a little different.





That was better.





I'll be back home as if I was never here.





It's hard to keep things aligned when they all reverberate inside of you.





There it is again.





Then it escapes you once more.





Get me a roller for this hot asphalt dumping between my thoughts.





It smooths out paths to somewhere, sometimes familiar.





But haven't I crossed this bridge once, twice, maybe three times already?





Yes but I'm going places I've never been before.

Hangers or Hangars?

I freed myself from school early and fled from the hills as quickly as possible on Friday. It was all for the cause of finding new hiking/walking shoes. What a let down, right? Yes, if you consider the fact I didn't make much progress in finding some new footwear. That's not such a necessity right now anyway. While I was in the vicinity of the local airport I went to check out some old hangars. A random acquaintance told me about them back in September and I had been interested to check them out for myself. I couldn't find the Japanese word for hangar because I was typing the English in as hanger. That was a good spelling lesson for myself, albeit a shameful one.





In 1944 nine covered hangars and 32 uncovered plane storage areas were constructed for use by the air force. After the war the airport became the prefectural airport and the surrounding land returned to farming.  Today 7 of the 9 hangars still remain in rather good condition. 

The flight unit was named the White Chrysanthemum and originally did pilot training. But the planes were also used for suicide attacks, better known in English as kamikaze which means God Wind or sometimes Divine Wind. 26 planes were sent to southern Japan to a base in Kagoshima and subsequently fought in the battle of Okinawa. 56 individuals lost their lives.





This is the biggest hangar of the lot. According to the Japanese on the webpage I used to find the history of the hangars, there are about 60 bullet holes from being strafed by American machine gun fire. I didn't think they had been attacked so I didn't look very close. I might have to give it another look when I'm in the area sometime.








Almost every hangar has some form of agriculture equipment or garbage inside of it now. They are quasi storage sheds for the local farmers.





The other hangars are much smaller. The interesting thing is that their positions seem to be placed very randomly. I think they all face varying directions. I apparently missed the sign that explains the hangars. One exists somewhere in the area. I'll have to track that down.






The sun was beginning to sink in the sky and it cast heavy shadows on the hangars.








I'll follow up with some more information after I have read through the Japanese on the history a little more.








There was one more hangar I didn't make it over to. It has a road going through it. I guess a second trip will be worthwhile after all.

Resting in Ashidani

I look at the town office workers. It's long past their regular hours. The sterile glow of computer screens and overhead lights bathe them in depressing joy. This is the countryside but they continue to find reasons to work late hours. They might be very happy individuals but I don't sense any of that every time I look at them through the windows. I take the hint. I never want to come close to anything similar. It's true that my responsibility pales in comparison to probably everyone else around here but it comes with frustration. I'm happy to replace that with many things. I"m glad it's not Japanese TV.





Japanese TV rots my mind, soul, and physical body. It's probably doing the same thing to everyone else. I tend to watch some programs via the internet of American shows but I'm left considering how worthwhile it is. It's a time filler. A time filler that should be put to better use. Many things should be put to better use.





I put my body to good use after I went into a valley at the wrong place. I used my arms and my brain. I used the path of animals to help guide me along some steep slopes. I was making good use of everything. So there is a multiplying factor of goodness in it.





Every branch I grab, every clump of sasa I steady myself on, and every narrow pass I cross is a renewed chance to succeed. Such simple success is sweet. Navigating rocks too. It's all the same. This is what fun should be you know. Grabbing loose roots before you know it and almost toppling over backward, only to be saved by your sure fire wit for grabbing another more secure point. Throw the bag up a rock and wedge the body up. Repeat in reverse if necessary but sometimes another path comes out.





Just how far from the expectation of life could I go from?  For now it's only as far as the forest allows me.





Someone really had the foresight to establish this shrine. I guess the gods are full though. They hadn't opened the can of alcohol sitting on the next step down. It was covered in thick pollen grime. The only offerings were pine needles and leaves today. I wanted to throw open the doors but alas they were cemented shut. What is more important here, the shrine commemorating the spirits of nature or the fact it's an ugly dais of concrete in a place it shouldn't be?





Nobody comes here anyway. Nobody cares anymore.





I think the benefit is all ours. I often wonder if the people fixing the roads to these remote areas like the nature very much. It seems they are desensitized to it. They can't wait to get back home, eat sashimi, and fall into seizures caused by the impossibly gaudy TV shows. Well it's good for me then. More for me to love.





Then the question of how to make the best use of time comes back again. Maybe it's more about being simply happy. Yes, simple in happiness. If you wish for it you aren't going to get it. You have to go find it. I'm still wondering what that will be...

椿山 - Tsubayama

After seeing the colors dabbed on the hills on Wednesday I couldn't do anything else but go back. Before waking up at 6:30 in the morning, mother earth did the favor for me around 4:30. I counted for about 15 seconds while everything was shaking. I might not clearly recall if that was correct. At about 16 seconds I was half expecting it was the terrible Nankai. The Nankai earthquake wouldn't affect me as much as others though. However, earthquakes are still frightening. Japan is a natural disaster fun land waiting to happen. After checking the TV to see if was a serious quake I went back to sleep for a few more hours before heading out to the forgotten reaches of the Shikoku countryside.





The clouds were hanging around like children who drop their ice cream cones. Low and sullen. Somehow the hills managed to hold their own. The hills remind me of special edition crayon boxes of fall colors even if they never existed.





My bag was heavy and the sweat began to run free from every pore of my body. Whenever this happens I imagine my predicament hiking in the winter with a wet body. I don't know if it will ever be easy to regulate my body temperature properly. I might end up with hypothermia before I ever figure it out. At least the late October temperatures aren't harsh when in other parts of the world the end of October is promising winter.





We found an old piece of pottery along the trail. It was entirely out of place but hand made. Too small to be a flower vase or good for much of anything. We left it to rest on a stump because it was probably some important local cultural property. I reminded my friend of that fact before she freely stole it.





After the mind numbing climb through the sugi waste lands. My spirits lifted in spite of the sombre skies.









Too much color to let my spirit sink.








And you keep going and going. You keep thinking the top is near. Then it's twice as far as you thought.

 


My friend abruptly stopped and was spooked. I proclaimed how interesting the tree covered in fungus looked. She spooked me back. It was only because the tree was so disgusting looking. But oh how beautiful the process of decay which makes life. That is precisely the reason maggots are so revolting and beautiful at the same time. It might be going a little too far to say maggots are beautiful. Maybe appreciated is better?





On Friday I was terrified that in the past that I ate some morels because I learned of the existence of fake morels. Upon seeing the picture of the fakes I was rest assured it was pretty hard to make a mistake. I can only trust seasoned mushroom veterans I suppose. How well can they be trusted?





Oh how that trail dragged on. The sasa began to creep taller and taller in relation to the trail length. I don't have anything to show of that because it was all very wet and I had put my camera away for safe keeping.





The last push to the top was painful on my heels, ankles, and toes. I felt like I was swimming through bushes. My arms wet. The cold wind at the top nipping the skin. I wanted to finish this mountain off. The clouds became worse and shrouded any view of the surrounding mountains. I guess it wasn't really a waste. Crowning a mountain is always a good feeling. It's more about being out and experiencing anyway. Your eyes and memory will serve you well.





We hit a mikan high at the top. I got juiced up on 3 or 4 of the sweet citrus fruit. That made me temporarily forget I was on a mountain top nowhere near any place I should be eating citrus. What a strange contrast of sorts. Yes, happy.





Okay. Quite happy and ready to get down under the cloud layers. We blazed through the sasa fields and back along the trail in no time. There were many a fall and slips but we came out unharmed, in good enough condition to slay the day with one last stop.





Ah yes the fall from Wednesday, renewed in the glory of daylight.





Was I really on the hunt for fall again or was this just a reminder that value is hard to place? I'm sure Halloween costumes and alcohol are fun too. Give me a break. I'll stare into the glow of my computer and replay my day like an old film projector flickering back and forth. Back and forth. Neither better nor worse. Just a matter of value. Yes, value. Don't ask me what this all means. None of it made sense to me either. I think.