The heat rose and in the late afternoon the winds came.  Winds swept across the road as I was walking back from the station to my house.  This dandelion that had gone to seed caught my eye.

The wind was pushing it this and that way but it didn’t let go of its sees.  It just bent in the wind and held onto it’s offspring.  People kept coming and going over the pedestrian bridge.  I was squatting there watching the dandelion dance.

So delicate, yet so strong.

Blowing in the wind, without letting go.

The rain just kept on falling.  All day there was nothing but rain.  It varied from misty rainfall to out right pours.  It was just water falling from the heavens.  Little droplets, splattering against my raincoat, and bouncing off my black umbrella.

Rain always makes me think of both Miami, and the San Francisco Bay Area.  Both places it would rain like crazy.  In Miami the rain would suddenly come and jut pour, then the next moment the sun would be out shining.  The rain came as fast as it went away.  Other times the weather would be foul as the winds hurled the rain in vertical and horizontal sheets.

In the Bay Area, the rain would come, and the sun would vanish for days.  There could be several days in a row when there would be rain so constant that I would forget what a sunny day felt like.  The dampness was so cold that it would seep into my bones no matter how many lawyers I might have worn.

Today’s weather is much more like those long winter nights in Martizez, California.  The rain came and it would just stay.  I would stare out into the back yard where a small creak ran, and watch the water level raise and raise, until the little creak was a roaring river of chocolaty water.

Today is somewhere in between.  The rain hasn’t really stopped.  The air is a bit on the cooler side.  I still just stare out my window and watch the rain fall and listen to the sounds of the birds chirping in the late afternoon.

It is only rain.  It will be gone tomorrow. Let me just take out my umbrella and join the parade.

The weather today has been gorgeous.  It might seem strange but after a few days of some weather that just confused me, it is nice to have awoken to clear skies and coolish air.

The weather on the stroll around this Narashino neighborhood on Friday was perfect.  The small plots of land are always stuffed to the bursting point with plants.  The Japanese had a great knack when it comes to using space efficiently.  Most people who are into gardening will have plants lined up on walls, in front of the home, and even planting some in the earth if they have the space.

I love look at how beautiful and compacted these gardens are.  There is so much concrete we are surrounded by everywhere we turn, it is a pleasure to see some green leaves reaching towards the sunshine.

I too have tried to use my space efficiently by planting a container vegetable garden this year on my patio.  I will keep you posted on it’s progress.

Keep on sowing seeds!

It may be that spring is just about over, even though in Japan we have been having extremely odd weather.  It hailed yesterday.  There were a rash of tornados about a week ago, and the mercury keeps yo-yoing up and down.  All of this may be coming quickly to an end.  Today on my stroll around I spotted my first ladybug.  There he/she was just glistening in the sunshine.

Ladybugs are my friend.  And seeing this one reminded me that I need to plant some marigolds in and around my patio garden so that the ladybugs want to come over to my house and have a party.  Then they will be welcomed to feast on the little aphids that follow in the hot humid weather.

May you all have a beautiful day of rest.  Be on your watch for the ladybugs in your own neighborhood.

I paused at a corner I have passed many times.  Actually I have taken a picture of this corner in the autumn when the Japanese Maple was flaring red.  But today was different.  I noticed a small metal plaque that had attached to it a wooden plank.  Written on the wood was some Shodo (Japanese Calligraphy).

The brushwork is very hard for me to discover what exactly was written.  I can stare into the lines and appreciate the care, and the beauty of each ink filled stroke.  Each stroke then works in with the street corner.  All the elements are working in a harmony within the frame of my lens.  The Japanese maple, the wooden planter box, the advertisement behind the poetry are all synced.  I love Japan when all these elements stack up on one another within my viewfinder.

Shodo is becoming a lost art in Japan.  The youth have all taken to texting, tweeting, and blogging.  The computer tools allow the youth to write Kanji without know the step by step process to write them on paper.  This lost art was reinforced when I opened my mailbox.  Among the bills, catalogs and flyers was an actual letter.  This was not a form letter.  It was not an email.  It was a letter addressed to me written in a beautiful cursive script.  A dear friend took the time to write his thoughts out for my benefit on paper.  The letter’s words looped across the page, as I read my friends thoughts.  An art of lettering writing that I myself had been loosing, if I haven’t already lost.

It was a synchronous moment.  Seeing and photographing the calligraphy on the street corner and then receiving the beautifully written letter.  Sometimes we have days like these and sometimes we don’t.  We need to look for those signs that we are given.  We need to pay attention to those hints that the Creator is dropping us.  If we don’t we will forever be wandering aimlessly in the dessert.

Seek

Look

Find

Sometimes we just feel out it.  It is hard to know why or where it comes from, but there it is.  It is right before us, sometimes seeping way down into our soul.  The important fact is what do what we do?  Do we stay paralyzed and afraid to do anything?

I say, NO!  I know it might be hard, but it is that struggle through the rough patches in our lives that make those vibrant days that much sweeter.    We have to make that conscious decision to seek the light.  To seek out the sunny side of the river if the side that we are traveling on is in darkness.

For me that is the only way to live.  It is easy to say, but to put it into practice take effort.  We need to discipline ourselves to focus on that light that shines into our lives.  If there is no light then it is time for us to go out and find that light.

For me this past Sunday I found that light on the sunny side of the river in a place called Minami Kasai.  It is nothing special.  It is just my daily stomping ground.  The light was there, in a way it was always there, I just had to open my heart to feel it.

I often have to ponder about my place in Japan.  I sometimes really struggle with the fact that I am not Japanese and that I do not easily fit into society here.  But then again, I went though these same struggles wherever I lived in the states too.  So in the end, I struggle with these thoughts about society wherever I go.

I can look out my window and see the bay wedged in between the buildings, and the bridges.  If the wind is blowing in the right direction I can hear Ho Ho Ho and a Bottle of Rum float over from Tokyo Disney World, which is actually in Chiba Prefecture.  The mix of the world that I inhabit here is insanely boring, thrilling and ultimately surreal.

I was feeling sun deprived on this beautiful Sabbath day, so I grabbed my camera, and in shorts and a tee shirt hit my neighborhood.  I wasn’t the only one that was out enjoying the beautiful weather.  The park that sits only two blocks from my home was crammed full of people.

I just kept walking and this phrase kept popping into my head, “The Odd Reality of My Surroundings.”  I am not sure why, but those words seem to sum up my relationship with my own neighborhood.  My neighborhood is nothing special to most people.  It has its 7-11s and supermarkets.  It has homes, and large danchi structures, but it is my hood.  It is where I have called home now for more than 10 years.

Sometimes life just throws some thoughts into my head that the only way I can sort them out is though my camera.  I don’t know why, but it is often the only therapy that works.

So, I welcome you all to the Odd Reality of My Surroundings.

My friend Double You asked me what happened to the my urban images I used to take. I replied that I still take them, but I rarely share them.  I have become a bit obsessed with photographing how humans and nature interact in an urban setting.  To put it simply, I like to see some green in my images.

The crux of the matter is as an artist changing one’s point of view is essential for development.  After the earthquake hit on March 11, 2011, I no longer felt any comfort in my attraction to the urban world.  I saw the urban world as partially responsible for the nuclear mess that Japan found itself in.  I sought comfort in nature.  The colors enveloped my sadness. The resilience of the roots, stems and petals that still sprouted from the dust was amazing.

The perfection of the flowers reminded me that there is hope.  That the flowers can grow strong and beautiful, therefore we humans too could survive and learn to thrive.

As artist we are never completely satisfied.  We might be pretty happy with something at a given point of time, but when we go back and look at a piece of work later, we think I should have, or I could have done something else to it.  We, I, am always striving for new avenues of expression.  And changing the way in which I reflect and comment on the world around me.

Therefore, today I, LIVICATE to my friends DOUBLE you who gave me a nudge to show some images I have shot recently that urban images from my trip to the old part of town in Urayasu.

Sometimes to move forward, we have to look at where we have been to see how far we have come.

I have been in Japan more than 10 years.  I have either lived in Urayasu or spent most of my time there.  I have come to love the old part of town.  The town that harks back to its days as an important fishing town on Tokyo bay.  Most of the the fishermen these days have to offer fishing tours rather than reap the harvest from the sea.  Or they have a yakatabune (a boat used for parties).  Unlike their forefathers whose livelihood was directly dependent on what the sea provided.

Those days are quickly coming to an end.  The old part of town will not be much different from the new part of town within the next 10 years.  Therefore, I have witnessed the destruction of an authentic piece of Japanese culture.

The heart of the old part of Urayasu is Flower Dori (Street).  At one point in time before the highway and the Tozai train line was built this was the main drag. Small shops hawking their wares.  Fisherman homes lined along the canals that let out into tokyo bay.  The first time I walked down the street about 10 years ago I was amazed that there were still public baths on the street.

Now we jump to just a few days ago.  I turn my bike to head down Flower  Street to see how the destruction has been progressing, only to learn that it has been progressing at an almost unimaginable speed.  A beautiful old tackle shop had been replaced with a tasteless apartment building and that was just the beginning.

The street was being widened at one point.  Both of the historic buildings on both sides of the street had been leveled into dust.  My heart just sank.  It was heartbreaking seeing the street that was once so full of character being replaced with modern apartment buildings.

I had hopes that the city would preserve some of its own heritage, but that dream has been turned to dust.  They won’t stop until there is nothing left to rebuild.  It was one building at a time, now they are being replaced in twos and threes.  The pace is unrelenting.

One of my favorite stomping ground for photographs will be left as memories in only in pixels, and celluloid that I have captured them on.  I much rather be able to wander those streets, then just be at home and look at photographs.

Old Urayasu will be new Urayasu in a short time.  I shed some celluloid tears.

Harajuku is one of those places in Tokyo that I have a real love hate relationship with.  For most wether they are visitors from other countries or the Japanese themselves, Harajuku they love is full of teenage girls and boys playing dress up in and around Takeshita Street. Or the ultra brands like Gucci, Prada, and Luis Vuitton.  Often it is described as the gauge for what is happening in Japan’s fashion world.  For me, this is the part of Harajuku that just gives me the creeps and leaves me feeling empty.

It is too obvious.  Japan, crazy people, wearing lots of crazy clothes.  Being fiercely independent by all dressing alike.  Ok so there are a bunch of overly fashion obsessed kids around here, so now what?

What I actually dig about Harajuku are the little side streets that wind between Harajuku and Shibuya.  This is where cool little houses mingle with the most esoteric boutiques.  On this rainy day I was not disappointed.  I am always amazed that people live within a rock throw of the great teenage hordes.

On this rainy day in May, I still found some love to warm my heart.  A door to someone’s home had been tagged up with hearts.  Many many hearts.  Most of the hearts where smiling at me, so I smiled back at them.

Anyone who has spent a lot of time in Tokyo know that the real Tokyo lies hidden under the gloss of the tour books, and what the Japanese celebrate in their culture too.  The real Tokyo that captivates me is in these little backstreets that no one pays any attention to.  It is here on these wet backstreets that I found a door of hearts.  A door into my own heart.

A trio of plants potted in small tin planters.  Sitting in the spring time sun soaking up the warmth.  The drying goods too appreciate the warm sun.  They will be ready when the customers come around following the sunset.  A simple day in the sun for simple objects.  Just another day in Ichikawa, Japan on the outskirts of Tokyo.

The rain came down in the tiniest of droplets all day on Friday.  It felt like walking out into a misting machine with the steadiness at which the drops fell from the sky.  The droplets layered themselves on top of one another.

Nothing could escape becoming soaked by the rain.  Umbrellas may have kept my head dry put my pants were sopping wet by the time I reached my home.  I only walked from the bus stop to my front door was enough to have me dripping.

I can’t really complain or I shouldn’t really complain even though I may gripe about the weather.  We have planted a patio garden and we are thankful that the garden is being watered for us.  The plants may struggle against the rain.  They may end up face down in the dirt after the rain, but it won’t last forever.  For surely the sun will rise tomorrow and the warmth of the sun spreads out over the earth.

The plants instinctively uplift themselves to catch the sunlight.  Their arching stems instinctively straighten themselves.  The roots, having been soaked the day before, distribute the water to the plants.

I do not worry, I know that the rain is needed.  The rain provides nutrients and nourishment, and will be followed eventually by the warmth of the sun.

This is the season for the lovely dandelion.  For many the dandelion in only a nuisance in the form of a yellow flowering weed, but that is not how I think of them.  They are lovely flowers that make their life so close to the earth.

They make their appearance in spring as yellow mane heads pop forth across the Japanese landscape.  The pop up wherever their seeds floated in from the previous year.  They wiggle their way into cracks in the pavement, and along the railroad tracks that criss cross the countryside.  They sprout proudly and before we know they under a metamorphosis and become balls of seeded fluff.  All ready to spread forth across the land.

They are always yellow or that is at least I thought until I came across something different.  Nestled in between a stone fence at a shrine I came across the elusive White Dandelion of Chiba Prefecture.  It was large and bold in the cloudy early afternoon light.  I never know if I will see another White Dandelion, I hope I do.  I will keep my lens open to see whatever chooses to cross in front of my focal plane.

There is a promise contained within the tough head of every acorn.  This promise has been handed down from generation after generation.  If the acorn find its way to the earth, becomes buried under the moist ground, is given thirst quenching water it too can grow into a mighty oak tree.

Nature’s covenant has been written into an acorn’s DNA structure.  If the natural progression is followed then the acorn can become a tree.  Yes that’s right, can.  There is no guarantee that all the elements needed to bring the seed to fruition will occur.  The acorn must adhere to nature’s laws to sprout into a mighty oak.

I could endlessly stare up and marvel at the mighty oak tree, and be reminded that it was once just an acorn at natures whim.

We can take measures to help the acorn along the way.  We can plant the acorn in soil.  Feed it the elixir of water.  Plant a barrier to keep the wind at bay in its youth.

Again, these acts can help the acorn to flourish, but a squirrel could come along and snatch it up for its long winter supper.  There are no guarantees.  There is the possibility for obstacles to cut the acorn’s life short.

There is always the promise, we have to live up to the promise.  Help nourish that promise along the way, and have faith that the roots will seep deep, and the branches will grow strong.

Remember the promise.

I almost missed these orange hued wonders as I made my way back to the station.  On Tuesdays, I like to cut through a buddhist temple in Ichikawa as part of relaxing end to my day.  It helps to put the world back into perspective as I come out of the fluorescents and into the sunshine.

The temple building itself is pretty new but its grounds must be a few hundred years old.  They include a hand hewn stairway that passes through an old wooden gate making the entering of sacred ground.

After being in a building for most of the day I like to get out into the small garden of this temple.  Last week the park was crammed full of cherry blossom watchers, whereas today the grounds were still.  I walked past a large tree when a few blips of orange caught my eye.  They were tiny in size but bold in the color they spoke, orange.

I had to turn around and get down on my knees in order to get the fungi into my view finder.  They were well worth the time.  The short pause after a long day is necessary.  The selfless act of noticing something so tiny that most walked straight on by with out even giving these little ones any thought or admiration.

They are on the verge of being.  They are there if we notice or don’t.  It is really up to us to take the time to breathe in the world around us.  To take in these lovely orange wonders for our stimulation.

Please take some time to stop and smell the fungus.