Skeletons, skull and bones in Japanese Art and elsewhere – Part Two

When East met West – anatomically speaking

In 1771 a nameless, female criminal was executed. She earned, the hard way, the dubious honor of benefitting the exchange of ideas between the West and Japan and changing perceptions forever. Her contribution was not voluntary. Three men interested in the elements of Dutch medicine bribed the executioner to let them view her dissection. One of them was Sugita Gempaku (杉田玄白: 1733-1817) who happened to have access to a Dutch translation (1734) of an original German publication called the Anatomische Tabellen (人体解剖図表: 1722) by Johann Adam Kulmus (ヨハン. アダム.クルムス: 1689-1745). Gempaku was so impressed by the books accuracy that the next day he and his colleagues set about translating this work into Japanese. The result was the Kaitai Shinsho (解体新書: 1774) or ‘New Book of Anatomy’ sparked a whole new look at the European scientific method and an entirely new look at traditional Japanese medicine. The illustration below is from that translated copy.

Gempaku warned his readers that they would have to change their way of looking at things they thought they already knew. He called it “changing one’s outlook” (memboku o aratemeru). His revelations that day started a revolution in medicine and respect for Western scholarship. Of course, there had been dissections in the past but Gempaku believed that earlier Chinese and Japanese physicians had seen what they wanted to see to confirm their beliefs and not the true nature of things. He referred to his predecessors as being “hardened by chronic misconceptions”. According to Shigehisa Kuriyama in his essay “Between Mind and Eye: Japanese Anatomy in the Eighteenth Century” Gempaku felt that a physicians inability to see the truth was not just foggy thinking based on centuries of misconceptions, but that it was downright delusional and pathological in its resistance. There had been accounts of dissections from as early as the Han dynasty in China (206 B.C. to 220 A.D.), but there wasn’t a printed graphic to work from until the Sung dynasty almost a thousand years later. However, it wasn’t until the mid-14th century that such diagrams began to appear in Japan due to the work of the monk-physician Kajiwara Shōzen (梶原性全: 1266-1337). It took another four centuries before Japanese scholars began to seriously question the work handed down since the time of the Sung.

Cats have skulls and sometimes skulls have cats – at least in Japan

Kuniyoshi is undeniably a genius. I have said this elsewhere: If artistic ideas were tantamount to words Kuniyoshi would have the largest vocabulary of any artist I have ever known of – anywhere – anywhere in the world. Does that make him the best artist ever? No. But considering his remarkable skills he must be counted among the greatest. Besides, ‘best’ is a subjective word and from my perspective there is no ‘best,’ but many qualify.

Below is a prime example of Kuniyoshi’s fertile imagination. I have isolated one element of a print by him which shows skulls composed of the bodies of cats. Below that is the my adulterated version of the original print so you can better focus on the skulls themselves. But also, below that, are two other details from another robe which he is wearing and it too is decorated with skulls. Only this time the skulls are made up of lotus plants.

And then there is the sandal skull… Recently someone sent me a link to a web site that purported to show a face of Christ in a woodgrain product being sold by a major retailer. However, I thought the image had been doctored to make it look like Jesus and wasn’t very convincing. But I digress… as usual. Below is an enlargement of the sandal in the Kuniyoshi print I have been discussing and there is no mistaking the artist’s intent or that he meant to use a woodgrain to show it.

Then there is Kuniyoshi’s cats of cats

Kuniyoshi and his skull of gourds

I suppose that Kuniyoshi’s images shown below could give new meaning to the phrase ’out of one’s gourd.’ But, of course, that is a Western phrase and odds are that there is no Japanese 19th century equivalent. On the other hand, after thinking about this some more, there probably is/was an appropriate Japanese phrase to fit such moments. If, and only if, the term ‘out of one’s gourd’ or ‘off one’s gourd’ has anything to do with drinking to excess an alcoholic beverage out of a gourd and becoming falling-down-slobbering-stupid-drunk how could the Japanese not have an expression to suit that condition?

The danse macabre

There is a wonderful description of a storm by Thomas Hardy’s (トマス・ハーディ: 1840-1928) in his novel Far From the Madding Crowd (遥か群衆を離れて): “Heaven opened then, indeed. The flash was almost too novel for its for its inexpressably dangerous nature to be at once realized, and they could only comprehend the magnificance of its beauty. It sprang from east, west, north, south. It was a perfect dance of death. The forms of skeletons appeared in the air, shaped with blue fire for bones – dancing, leaping, striding, racing around, and mingling altogether in unparalled confusion.” Hardy continues by describing a bolt of lightning striking Gabriel who is holding Bathsheba’s arm: “In the meantime one of the grisly forms had alighted upon the point of Gabriel’s rod, to run invisibly down it, down the chain and into the earth. Gabriel was almost blinded, and he could feel Bathsheba’s warm arm tremble in his hand – a sensation novel and thrilling enough; but love, life, everything human seemed small and trifling in such close juxtaposition with an infuriated universe.”

Woodcut from the ‘Dance of Death’ series by Hans
Holbein (ハンス.ホルバイン: 1497-1543) the Younger .

In the 18th century Pierre Maupertuis (モーペルチュイ: 1698-1759), one of history’s great polymaths, on a visit to the ossuary at Toulouse was asked why the skeletons seemed to be laughing. His response, in French of course, was that they were laughing at us, the living. The skeleton drummer shown above is clearly enjoying himself. Not only does he have a smile on his face, a wicked grin you might say, but he’s got ears too. Hmmm? Odd isn’t it. Near his bony left foot is death’s hourglass with its inexorable sands or as Pink Floyd so succintly put it: “Shorter of breath and one day closer to death.”

By the mid-15th century the Dance of Death was ubiquitous in Europe. Why not? One hundred years ealier the Black Death (黒死病) had ravaged the populations from the sweltering, southern tip of Italy to the frigid Scandanavian region. No one was immune. In The Gender of Death: A Cultural History in Art and Literature the author, Karl Guthke, states that within the Christian world bracketed from the Fall to Last Judgement “…Death is a terrifying presence. Inexorably he approaches representatives of all estates and classes, hauling them out of life after a brief dialogue or dispute, without ever granting a reprieve.” Guthke also notes that “Gender specific attributes such as a drum often confirm [that Death] is a male image.”

Nathanile Hawthorne (ナサニエル・ホーソーン: 1804-64) in his Twice Told Tales (二度語られた物語) relates the story of a woman who has been widowed three times and is determined to try again. One of her deceased husband’s had actually been a lot younger. But the woman was undaunted and determined to stay young although she clearly was losing that battle. Hawthorne noted that “The young have less charity for aged follies than the old for those of youth.” As the bride approached the Episcopalian church with her youthful entourage the mood soon began to sour. The chuch bell began a mournful, death knell. Everyone noticed, but the bride in particular. It was as if the “…stroke of the bell had  fallen directly on her heart…” Soon the groom’s company was seen approaching, but so too was that of a funeral. Others began to join the crowd already in the church. The bride thought she recognized old friends long deceased. “Many a merry night she had danced with them in her youth; and now, in joyless age, she felt that some withered partner should request her hand, and all unite in a dance of death, to the music of the funeral bell.”

When the groom appered he was wearing his shroud. “The corpse stood motionless, but addressed the widow in accents that seemed to melt into the clang of the bell. Which fell heavily on the air while he spoke. ‘Come my bride!’ said those pale lips. ‘The hearse is ready. The sexton stands waiting for us at the door of the tomb. Let us be married; and then to our coffins!’ “

All human beauty is ended by death – omnem in homine venustatem mors abolet  (with an erotic subtext)

The image shown below is a detail from a print by Hans Sebald Beham (ハンス・ゼーバルト・ベーハム: 1500-50). While Death is not quite a skeleton yet – note the muscular arms and legs – he is well on his way to becoming one. His head is the only obvious give away – other than the inscription, of course – but how many of us can easily translate from the Latin? But what is particularly bothering here is the obvious erotic nature of the couple: the seduction of death. The tilt of his head/skull as he whispers into her ear while holding firmly onto her wrists.

W. H. Auden (オーデン: 1907-73) once wrote:

Time and fevers burn away
   Individual beauty from
Thoughtful children, and the grave
   Proves the child ephemeral…

What’s worse than a going on a blind date?

This is just the beginning of part two and like the other posts will be developed over the next ten days or so. If you have any suggestions please get in touch.

Momiji 紅葉 – The Japanese and their love affair with the maple tree and its beauteous foliage

The Japanese aren’t alone in their appreciation for the maple tree, but they are unique in the strength of their spiritual bonds and aesthetic expressions which had already formed more than 1,200 years ago. On the other hand, there are the Canadians who adopted a new, national flag – the red and white with a red maple leaf – on February 15, 1965. Christopher McCreery says that the choice of the new flag was spurred on by certain extraneous events during the Suez crisis of 1956. I don’t know anything about that, but what I do know is that the Canadians had been discussing and arguing over the design of a new flag for decades. One frequently mentioned element would be  the inclusion of a maple leaf or perhaps several. McCreery tells us that “The design that was ultimately chosen remained true to Canada’s heraldric traditions: it incorporated the national colours, red and white, as chosen by King George V, as well as a stylized Maple Leaf.” This leaf first appeared on Dominion coins in 1871. (The photograph of the flag shown below was placed in the public domain by Makaristos at wikimedia.org.)

Myself? I grew up – actually I never grew up – in Missouri and have fond memories of Aunt Jemima, pancakes and maple syrup. Pancakes are nothing without maple syrup. My mother made waffles too, but they were never very good. Sometimes they tasted like cardboard and all of the maple syrup in the world couldn’t save them. But she persisted. I guess she wasn’t going to stop until she got it right. She never did.

This is a photo I took last week in the parking lot of the complex
where I live. That’s not my car.

Momiji-gari  紅葉狩 – Viewing fall foliage as a spiritual/religious act

Whenever two American upper middle-class individuals or families meet each other for the first time – note my critical and somewhat elitist tone here – and they converse long enough eventually one will ask the other “Have you ever driven through Vermont ( バーモント) and New Hampshire ( ニューハンプシャー) in the fall? It is so beautiful.” Well, momiji-gari is the Japanese equivalent with one major exception: for the Japanese it is a truly spiritual experience on a level deeper or higher, depending on your point of view, than that normally felt by the Westerner driving through the low mountains of New England. Other than that there appears to be little difference between us on this matter.

The above image of momiji at Ginkaku-ji was place in
the public domain at wikimedia.org by Gribeco.

Bruce Feiler in his 1991 volume Learning to Bow describes making friends with a Japanese fellow who explained the background and significance of maple viewing to the Japanese: “Certain natural phenomena because of their splendor and singular beauty, developed almost a religious significance in ancient Japanese culture, where Shinto beliefs held that nature was the home of spirits who lived in the water, the land, and the trees. The mysterious transformation of green leaves into fiery reds and frosty yellows around the time of the harvest every year inspired awe among superstitious farmers. Just as a protocol around making tea… or painting calligraphy… so a proper form of viewing nature eventually evolved.” Feiler continued: “According to the Shinto code, the viewer on a proper leaf-viewing excursion should try to achieve a personal communion with the leaves, in a bond akin to the private communication between man and god at he heart of many Western religions. As Prince Genji once wrote to a lover, ‘A sheaf of autumn leaves admired in solitude is like damasks worn in the darkness of the night.’ By entering nature, one hopes to internalize the beauty of the leaves in one’s heart. Man enters nature, and nature, in turn, enters man.”

In the introduction to the book Japanese Maples: Momiji and Kaede by Vertrees (d. 1993) and Gregory it is noted that during the Edo period (1603-1867) up to 200 maple cultivars with poetical names existed. However, by the end of the Second World War many of these had been lost. Gardeners were forced to concentrate on food production and many rare, old and valuable maple trees were used for fuel during the war years. Generations of specialization were lost in no time to necessity.

Yet today maples, be they large, small or bonsai, are a must for every garden in Japan. ”A standard garden book published in 1710 mentioned 36 varieties of Acer palmatum. By 1733 an additional 28 names were listed. An Acer list of 1882 numbered 202…” Vertrees believed that there must surely have been more than that which which were unknown to the list makers.  An article in the July 2000 issue of Sunset said that today there more than 1,000 named varieties of the Japanese maple.

Vertrees said that both of the terms, momiji and kaeda, are used by the Japanese to “…indicate the maple species and cultivars.” Further on he said: “The word kaede stems from the ancient language term kaerude (kaeru, meaning ‘frog,’ and de, meaning ‘hand’).” The lobed leaf of the maple brought to mind the webbed ‘hands’ of the frog. The term was later shortened to kaede. At one time the term momiji may have been associated with a “baby’s pretty little hands.” How exactly this connection was made is unclear to me, but it is there nonetheless. Vetrees also noted that in ancient times there was the verb momizu which meant ‘to become crimson-leaved.’ According to him that morphed into momiji.

Momiji and the Tale of Genji: The Momiji no ga

The image shown immediately below is the crest identifying a specific chapter to the Tale of Genji. Each of the 54 chapters has been assigned one as a visual clue to what part of the tale is being represented. They are referred to as genjimon (源氏紋) and look somewhat like the modern bar code. Richard Lane and others put the number at 54 while Merrily Baird says there are only 52 which is the same number used in a Genji related incense game. Surely that is what she is referring to. Either way these mon can be extremely useful in identifying particular passages or sections of this story. They appear on innumerable Japanese woodblock prints. Sometimes they are placed in a cartouche in the upper part of  a print or they are subtly or not-so-subtly displayed on robes or domestic objects. However, sometimes - and here is the cautionary note – they simply form a decorative element and have nothing to do with the original 11th century tale and some of them aren’t even among of the accepted 54 mon although they look like they are.

At the beginning of chapter 7 the Emperor is about to set out for the to the Suzaku Palace. This procession is the momiji no ga which is to take place after the tenth day of the tenth month. It was to be quite a production and was also an extremely rare event meant to celebrate a particularly important birthday such as the fortieth or fiftieth. Captain Genji, our hero, was to perform the dance of the ‘Blue Sea Waves,’ which he did and did brilliantly. His performance was said to be heavenly. Not only did he do it well, but his personal beauty and style made him as radiant as radiant can be. I think that probably explains the decorative cap shown in the image below. Maybe he would have worn such an item.

Royall Tyler in his brilliant translation of this tale says that momiji no go means ‘Beneath the Autumn Leaves’. Arthur Waley entitled the chapter ‘The Festival of Red Leaves’: “The imperial visit to the Red Sparrow Court was to take place on the tenth day of the Godless Month. It was to be a more magnificent sight this year than it had ever been before…” Seidensticker called it ‘An Autum Excursion.’ The variance in these three translations shows the fluidity of the Japanese language. Each gets at the sense of the moment, but each is also different from the other.

This is a detail from a triptych by Eishi illustrating the
momiji no ga. Notice the elaborate outdoor setting
with the use of temporary curtains.

Now here is exactly the problem I have been talking about: The confusion over genjimon

On October 20th Eikei (英渓), a great and generous contributor to my other web site, sent me this image by Toyokuni III showing Genji and his cousin Tō no Chūjō performing the dance of the “Blue Sea Waves.”  Genji’s partner “…certainly stood out in looks and skill, but beside [him] he was only a common mountain tree next to a blossoming cherry.”

A detail close-up of the dancers hardly helps to distinguish one from the other, but the text is clear as to what the author intended.

And here is where the real confusion comes in. The title cartouche in the upper right of print clearly shows that this print is intended to illustrate the Momiji no ga chapter, but the genjimon is for that of Chapter 5, Wakamurasaki or ‘Young Murasaki’. Why? Was there a mix up at the publisher’s? Were they in a rush to get this edition out? Were they working from another text I am unfamiliar with. Who knows? Do you?

Momiji inspiring the poetic muse

There are more poems in Japanese which mention momiji than could possibly be listed here. The image shown above is detail from a print by Hokusai which accompanies a poem from the Heian period. Composed by Fujiwara no Tadahira (藤原忠平 880-949) it relates the story of the Emperor Daigo visiting his father, former Emperor Uda who had abdicated, became a monk and moved to Mt. Ogura near Kyoto. Uda convinced Tadahira , the Chief Minister at the Imperial Court, to invite Daigo to visit his father during the fall when the colors would be particulary beautiful. No matter how one reads the Japanese the maple leaves are presented with an almost human sentience.

If the maple leaves
On the ridge of Ogura
Have the gift of mind,
They will longingly await
One more august pilgrimage.

 小倉山
峰のもみじ葉
心あらば
今ひとたびの
みゆきまたなむ

Nancy G. Hume in her book Japanese Aesthetics and Culture points out that “By far the most common subjects of Japanese poetry are the cherry blossoms and the reddening maple leaves of autumn. If one were obliged to read through the twenty-one imperial anthologies between the tenth and fifteenth centuries, one would certainly end by being thoroughly bored with both cherry blossoms and maple leaves.” Great quote!

Momiji as a poetic reference by allusion

Hiroshige created the momiji image shown above. It is only a part of a larger print, but is known to represent the “Maple Leaves of Mama (真間) in Shimōsa (下総) Province”. That means that there is a world of information to be gleaned here, but few would understand that just by looking at these leaves. Actually there are whole worlds within worlds hidden within other worlds in most traditional Japanese prints and paintings. The Westerner could hardly be expected to see much more than what is laid out before him/her. However, a literal interpretation, no matter how pleasing, of an image is often just as superficial as what one sees on reality TV.

The “Maple Leaves of Mama…” refers to a series of poems in the Man’yoshu (万葉集 8th century) which relate the story of a beautiful peasant girl who was so sought after that she committing suicide by drowning herself. Near that spot at Mama in Kazushika a memorial tomb was erected. Nearby are maple trees which – as you can tell by now – burn a beautiful red in the fall. The tomb, the view and the trees became a pilgrimage destination. Although I am not sure if momiji are ever mentioned in the poems devoted to this woman red maple leaves immediately bring to mind her tragic end.

Momiji as a euphemism for eating venison

While researching this post I ran across a rather unusual quote about the Japanese and meat eating. It appeared in The Politics of Food by Marianne Lien and Brigitte Nerlich. “Historical evidence suggests that meat was widely consumed despite the existing taboo. Throughout the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, the shōgun himself, as well as other members of the political elite regularly received gifts of beef, and restaurants specializing in game were thriving. Nevertheless an aura of pollution surrounded the practice of meat eating. Reports make it clear that eating meat was something fairly unusual, and euphemisms, such as botan (peony), sakura (cherry) and momiji (maple) were used when referring respectively to the meat of wild boar, horsemeat and venison.”

Recently I watched a Harvard lecture on YouTube in which Professor Michael Sandel discussed the ethical issues around cannibalism. He described a shipwreck, desperate men, their rescue and a famous trial. The professor noted that one of them wrote an account and said that the morning they were rescued they were eating their ‘breakfast’. I don’t remember Professor Sandel’s exact words, but he did note that the man’s description was a euphemism if he ever heard one.

Note: I want to thank a sharp-eyed reader of this site for pointing out to me that momiji was used as a euphemism for venison and not horsemeat as I had originally written. Thanks.

Momiji and the supernatural 

Below is an image of a print by Kuniyoshi showing the struggle between Taira Koremochi and the demon of Mt. Togakushi. It was contributed to this post by my great friend Mike.

Momijigari is the name of a kabuki “…dance drama by Kawatake Mokuami that premiered in 1887. Based on a nō play, it is not, however, performed in kabuki’s version of nō style. It uses a more conventional setting in which a large maple tree occupies center stage.” This is from  The man who saved Kabuki: Faubion Bowers and Theatre Censorship in occupied Japan by Shirō Okamoto. (The three images from a vertical Yoshitoshi diptych shown below are also from my friend Mike. )

                        

The play takes place during a leaf-viewing excursion on Mt. Togakushi (戸隠山). The hero, Taira Koremochi (平維望), and his men are hunting on the mountain when they come across a beautiful princess and her entourage holding a banquet. When they are invited to join the group they decline until the princess wins them. As Koremochi is falling asleep after drinking the wine offered by the princess he realizes that she is actually the demon in disguise so he kills her.

In another version Koremochi is separated from his men and runs across a group of maidens who are enjoying the Momijigari. He accepts their invitation to join them and drinks some of their rice wine and falls asleep. At that point the demons reveal themselves. However, the god Hachiman appears to Koremochi in a dream and gives him a magical sword. When our hero wakes up the sword is lying at his side and he uses it to kill the demons. The same thing happened in one of the versions of the tale of the monster Shuten-dōji. 

In Light Verse from the Floating World: An Anthology of Pre-modern Japanese Senryū by Makoto Ueda there is a witty poem playing on the idea of the momijiri-gari and its seductive demon:

maple viewing
nowadays, the she-devil waits
at home

Why maple leaves?

Detail from a print by Toyokuni III with maple leaf motif on Takao’s kimono.

There is a series of kabuki plays which include the role of Ashikaga Yorikane (足利頼兼) and his love interest, Takao (高尾). Only one of these plays has the word momiji in it – as far as I know. As part of the costuming, more often than not, Takao is wearing something with maple leaves on it or has them as part of the decoration somewhere nearby. Yorikane is conventionally identifiable by a sparrow and bamboo motif. His obsession with his mistress means that he is neglecting affairs of state. For that reason Takao has to die.

The elaborate robes and hairpins or kanzashi (簪) worn by Takao indicate that she is from the highest rank of courtesans. In the Kunisada image detail below the actor playing her is wearing kanzashi with clearly defined maple leaves. In this case, these are the only momiji used to help us identify the role.

In another diptych by Kunihiro from ca. 1835 the artist portrayed Takao elaborately garbed, with kanzashi with maple leaf embellishments and a low screen with a momiji design.

But wait a minute: Some Japanese prints on this theme like the one shown below by Kuniyoshi present no maple leaves on Takao and none nearby. While both Yorikane and Takao are wearing two different versions of the sparrow-bamboo motif his borders on near total abstraction. There must be a message here, but I don’t know what it is unless one can never be too careful when using visual cues.

I had  no idea where I was going or what I am going to write about when I began this post. Now I am nearing an end and like all other topics there is much more to say, but maybe I will have to save that for another day. Thanks for staying with me this far.

The Lotus 蓮

When I go from hence let this be my parting word, that what I have seen is unsurpassable.
I have tasted of the hidden honey of this lotus that expands on the ocean of light, and thus am I blessed — let this be my parting word. 
In this playhouse of infinite forms I have had my play and here have I caught sight of him that is formless.
My whole body and my limbs have thrilled with his touch who is beyond touch; and if the end comes here, let it come — let this be my parting word. 

Rabindranath Tagore

Ignore the ducks! It’s not the ducks: Concentrate on the dying lotus plants.

Below is a print by Kiyochika  (清親  1847-1915) from 1879. While it may look strange to most aficionados of Japanese prints to me it is a masterpiece. Clearly Kiyochika was thinking outside of the box – way outside. The genius of this print is its break from traditional Japanese linear print. Sure, there had been ‘line-less’ prints from earlier artists like Utamaro, but nothing that looked anything like this one. Perhaps Kiyochika was trying to approximate certain European painting or printing styles. His signature and the title were printed over the area near the ducks’ feet amd not in the ubiquitous cartouches found previously.

Since we all work in ignorance I am never embarrassed to admit to my own. When I mentioned this project on the lotus to an over-the-top intellect I know in San Francisco he made sure that I knew that the lotus I was talking about is the Nelumbo nucifera. I said I did, but I didn’t really. Don’t know why I do that kind of thing, but I do. Anyway, his brain helps me get to the core of things a lot faster than I normally would.  A walking-talking reference book. An all-purpose encyclopedia. Everyone should have one. (Another) anyway, that is why I am posting the image of the Australian stamp below to help make this point clear. However, before we move on I want to mention one more thing: Many of the references to the Buddhist lotus speak of it as having only eight petals. This one sure looks like it has more than that. Perhaps it is a hybrid? This is an issue to be resolved later. Maybe  I will need to call San Franciso again for clarification. If I do you will be among the first to know.

Ignore the Lotus! It’s not the Lotus! I am not talking about cars here. It is the plant which counts. By the way, does anyone out there know how the Lotus automobile got its name? I need something definitive here. Below is a Lotus posted by BrokenSphere at wikimedia.org.

Heed the science! It is just super – superhydrophobic, that is: On March 16, 2009 I read a report in the science section of the BBC which shook me to my art-historical core. It explained why the lotus leaf remains so pristine. Why water (and dirt) roll off it in a self-cleansing manner. It explains scientifically what had remained unknowable to the ancient Hindus and Buddhists. All they could see was the constant beauty and purity of the lotus which rises out of the muck and mire. Metaphorically and spiritually it formed a core belief which is as important to these two groups as the belief in a single god is to the monotheistic religions. As metaphor it showed that no matter how sordid and sullied one’s temporal existence was each soul could still be reborn into a perfectly paradisical world.

The image below was posted at wikimedia.org by Willa. The one below that with the bead of water resting on the leaf is by Migas and was posted at the same place. There have been recent scientific discoveries regarding the lotus, but more about that later.

Now with the invention of the scanning electron microscope we know why and how the lotus leaf stays so clean. The surface of the leaf is covered with miniscule waxy protrusions which form a regular pattern. Water does not and will not stick to it and an added benefit is that when it rolls off it takes dirt and detritus with it. Not only that it offers a great breakthrough for applications to come. Scientists and dreamers now believe we will have self-cleaning windows, cars which never have to be washed, buildings which will never get dirty and so much more. All that any surface will need is a coating of something superhydrophobic. In an article in “Chemical Science” from September, 2007 – this shows how far behind the times I am – it says: “The extent to which a liquid can wet a solid surface depends on the properties of the liquid and the surface itself. The wettability of a flat surface can be expressed in terms of the contact angle – the angle at which the liquid meets the surface. Surfaces that have a water contact angle of greater than 90° are considered to be hydrophobic. Surfaces with a water contact angle greater than 150° are known as superhydrophobic.” There you go. The lotus leaf has a contact angle greater than 150° and hence nothing will stick. It couldn’t be simpler.

Below is a detail from a print by Koson (古邨 1877-1945).

Contemplate Vishnu’s navel! Below is an image posted at Wikimedia by DoktorMax showing Vishnu asleep with a lotus plant sprouting from his navel. Seated on the lotus is Brahma, the Creator – only one of several creators, but a significant one. This is important and I will get back to it later. However, what I can tell you now is that Vishnu’s dream forms a major part of the theosophical underpinnings of Hinduism and the lotus plant plays a similar role for Buddhism and other ancient, disparate belief systems.

In a rather odd book from 1960, Secrets of the Cuna Earthmother: A Comparative Study of Ancient Religions, the author Clyde E. Keeler states that “The lotus stem is the umbilical cord and the blossom is the foetal membranes.” If I had read this in isolation I would have probably been somewhat dismissive, but considering the number of places around the world where gods were born upon the flowering lotus perhaps Keeler was onto something. However, when he states that it is curious that Sir James Frazer seemed to miss the identification of The Tree of Life with the umbilical cord it raises more doubts than it dispels – even if it does conjure up a rather clever image. 

Keeler added: “The identification of the lotus as the foetal membranes is the ’secret of the lotus’ in India and the symbology of the ‘lotus of the eternal life’ in Egypt. The picture of the birth of Brahma makes this identification certain for India.”

Even the Egyptians: Gerald Massey wrote in 1907 that “The Egyptians commemorated the birthday of the world - that is, of the… beginning of time, as the day Horus rose up on the lotus…” There is a photo – seen below - taken by Daniel Mayer and posted on wikimedia.org of a lotus – genus Nymphaea – growing in a pond at the Egyptian Museum in Cairo. Horus would have appeared from such a beauty.

And there were still others including the Lotophagi: Naturally the Jains, like the Hindus, adopted the lotus as well. The sacred, golden temple of the Sikhs at Amritsar is crowned with a dome which is an inverted, oversized lotus. Below are two photos of the Golden Temple which are both posted at wikimedia.org. The first is by Koshy Koshy and the second one of the dome lit up at night is by Giridhar Appaji Nag Y.

Much is made in Buddhism and elsewhere of the golden lotus. Like the gilded rooftop of the Sikh temple and the glorious, radiant lotus thrones of innumerable buddhas and bodhisattvas the lotus plant itself has its golden period. Perhaps the image below by Shoson will best illustrate that.

 The Lotophagi are a whole other world of study. They are to the West – to some degree – what the lotus, as known through the filter of Hinduism and Buddhism, is to the East and I would be remiss not to touch on them to some degree. Among the many Greeks who wrote about the Lotophagi or ’lotus eaters’ who lived on the north coast of Africa was Herodotus (／ヘロドトス -  5th c. B.C.) who said that these people ”…subsist on the fruit of the lotus…” Several centuries before that Homer (ホメロス) talked about them in the Odyssey. After landing in the land of the Lotophagi Odysseus sent three men to find out what kind of people lived there. They encountered these natives who invited these Greeks to join them in a meal. Remember all that the locals ate was the fruit of the lotus plant. In Allen Mandelbaum’s modern traslation of this classic it says:

Those three who feasted on the honey-sweet,
enticing lotus fruit had not the least
desire to bring back word or soon return
at all: they wanted only to stay there,
to feed upon that food and disremeber
their homeward path. I had to force them back,
in tears, to their own ships; there, they were dragged
beneath the rowing benches and bound fast.

This is the crux of the issue in the West. Anyone who eats of the lotus never wants to go home again. For them there is no such word as ‘homesickness’.

Lake Sukhāvatī – Women need not apply: In the Western Paradise, the Land of Bliss, the Pure Land souls are reborn encapsulated within lotus buds. They stay there for some interminable length of time while they get rid of their self-doubts. After the bud opens they exist on the lotus for an eon or so until they move up to the next level. At the center of this idyllic world created out of the karmic merit of the Amitābha Buddha. As I recall there are nine of them and after that nirvāna. At least that is how it was told to me. The Shambala Dictionary of Buddhism and Zen gives a good description of the place:

       “Sukhāvatī… is flooded by radiance which is emanated from Amitābha. The land is filled with the most exquisite fragrances; it is blossoming, rich and fruitful. Wondrous flowers and trees of jewels grow there. There are no hells, no beasts, no corpses, no [demons] Through the countryside flows rivers of sweet-smelling waters with bouquets of flowers afloat on them. The rushing of these waters is music.
         Those who, by strength of their faith, are reborn in Sukhāvatī awaken in a lotus flower. All their wishes are fulfilled. There is no sadness, misfortune, pain, or any other unpleasantness. In this buddha-field all beings cleave to the truth of the teaching until their final entry into nirvāna. Their supreme happiness is hearing the teaching proclaimed by Amitābha, who lives in the center of the land and is accompanied by Avalokiteshvara and Mahāsthāmaprātra.
        In Sukhāvatī the pleasures of love are absent, since no one is reborn there as a woman.”

The Six-Syllable Mantra – Om mani padme hum: There is a Tibetan book from the 14th century translated as The Clear Mirror. The forward  is by the current Dalai Lama.  This book gives a full description of this mantra and its powers. It states that Amitābha placed his hand on the head of Avalokiteshvara and explained everything needed to know. Reciting or hearing it at the appropriate time almost assures rebirth in a higher realm. Recitation plus the vision of the sublime body of the bodhisattva “…completely pacify the mischievous thoughts entertained by all demons, ogres, evil fiends, flesh-eating pishachi-spirits and other creatures who steal the radiance of life, as well as those who cause death.” The same formula of vision and hearing can subdue of tigers, leopards, bears and other such creatures. For humans the sublime sight and the hearing of the mantra can heal the wicked, blind, deaf, diseased and homeless forever. Om mani padme hum “…is the quintessence of all of the buddhas’ thoughts…” “If an animal, even an ant or worm, hears this mantra beside its ear at the time of death, once it is liberated from its body, it will be born in Sukhavati…” Just thinking of it will reverse the effects of bad karma and bring about rebirth in the Western Paradise. Wearing the mantra will protect a person against four hundred and four diseases, or the harm of fire, water, poison, weapons or demons. A single recitation greater than all of the drops of water in the ocean or the weight of the greatest mountain.

Syllable by syllable the world’s woes fall away: “…Om alleviates the suffering of birth and death among the gods. Ma assuages the pain of warfare of conflict among the demigods. Ni eases the miseries of birth, aging, disease and death in the realm of humans. Pad dispels the suffering of servitude experienced by animals. Me frees hungry ghosts from the torments of hunger and thirst. Hum eases the agonies of heat and cold among the denizens of hellish realms.” Amitābha then explains that “Om is the perfection of generosity… Ma is the perfection of patience… Ni is the perfection of moral conduct… Pad is the perfection of meditation… Me is the perfection of diligence… Hum is the perfection of wisdom…” There is much more to the mantra, but this post is about the lotus and I will leave off here.

In Japan the recitation Namu Amida Butsu (南無阿弥陀仏), “All praise the Lord Amida”, ‘a simplified salvific formula,’ could also secure an eventual place in the Western Paradise.

The flower beneath their feet: Buddhas, bodhisattvas and reborn souls are commonly shown seated or standing on a lotus flower. The image below posted by Kamui on wikimedia.org is one of an innumerable examples. Here the Kannon (観音 – aka Guan Yin in China and Avalokiteshvara in India), the Goddess of Mercy at Ōnishi (大西) Park is shown standing on a lotus which is placed on an inverted lotus pedestal. In Sanskrit the name is Padma-pâni translates as “Born of the Lotus”. She is holding a vase with a cut lotus rising out of it. Another common motif. However, the thing to note here is the inseparable connection between Buddhist deities and the ever-present lotus. Alice Getty in The Gods of Northern Buddhism tells us: “Every Buddha and Bodhisattva being svayambhū, or self-existent, is supported by a lotus-flower to indicate his divine birth.” The lotus itself represents the female element. The Buddha the male. The padma in a vase, like the one held by the Kannon figure below, represents “…the Spiritual and the Material.” Sometimes the lotus stands for the teachings of Buddha and other times it simply means purity.

Elizabeth Goldsmith wrote in 1911 that Avalokiteshvara was born out of a beam of white light emanating from the right eye of the Amitabha Buddha. It was this bodhisattva who first said “Om mani padme hum” which she translated as “Oh, the jewel of creation is in the lotus”. C.A.S. Williams gave a more expansive explanation/translation: “…’O God of the Jewel on the Lotus,’ or more freely, ‘May my soul be like the gemmeaus dew-drop, which lies on the lip of the lotus leaf, before it falls into the peaceful obscurity of the lake (i.e., before disappearing into NIrvana)’; but the fundamental origin of expression is undoubtedly form the Indian worship of Brahma, who is sometimes seated upon a lotus flower, which proceeds from the navel of Vishnu, who floats on his back upon the ocean.’ “

In 1917 Der Ling, the daughter of the former Chinese ambassador to France and an attendant on the Empress, published Two Years in the Forbidden City. In it she described a visit to a theater production based on the Chinese classic which we know as “Journey to the West” (西遊記). The play is entitled “The Empress of Heaven’s Party or Feast [Where She Invites] All [of] the Buddhist Priests to Eat Her Famous Peaches and Drink Her Best Wine.” (It should be remembered here that the reference to ‘Buddhist Priests’ is actually a reference to Buddhas and bodhisattvas.)

In the opening act a Buddhist priest in a yellow robe with a red scarf floats in on a cloud made of cotton. He descends toward the earth and as he does so a pagoda rises in the center of a stage with a singing ‘buddha’ in its tower. Then four more pagodas with singing ‘buddhas’ rise in the corners. Eventually they leave their towers and are joined by a multitude of other ‘buddhas’ entering from off-stage. At this point Der Ling says: “Then I saw a large lotus flower, made of pink silk, and two large green leaves appearing from the bottom of the stage, and as it rose the petals and leaves gradually opened and I saw a beautiful lady buddha (Goddess of Mercy) dressed all in white silk, with a white hood on her head, standing in the center of this flower. As the leaves opened I saw a girl and boy in the center of them. When the petals of the lotus flower were wide open this lady buddha gradually began to ascend herself, and as she ascended, the petals closed until she seemed to be standing on a lotus bud.” The Guan Yin, i.e, the Kannon, and her attendants join the throng and await the arrival of the Empress of Heaven who descends and invites everyone to the feast held annually on the third day of the third month.

Scene two opens with the setting of the banquet hall where the tables are piled high with her majesty’s peaches and copious amounts of wine. The only figures on stage are the men assigned to guard this treasure. A bee flies in and sprinkles something below the noses of each guard who immediately lose consciousness. Then the bee transforms into a giant monkey who engorges himself. Before he leaves he takes some of the peaches he hasn’t eaten back to his companions on Earth so they too can feast on this heavenly fair. When the enraged Empress finds out who has done this she sends her soldiers to punish the monkey. But he too has magic powers and when confronted with this heavenly host all he has to do is pull out some of his fur and blow it into the air where it transforms into monkey warriors carrying iron rods as weapons.

The print below by Yoshitosh proves the story is true.

The story is long and complex and there is no need for a blow by blow description here. Besides, I am mostly concerned with the importance of the lotus symbolism and its connection to Buddhism. After a couple of failed attempts to capture/punish/destroy the offending monkey king the Empress calls on a young god, aged fifteen, to do the job. He “…was made of lotus flowers and leaves and he could transform himself into anything he wished.” But he too failed so the Empress pulled out the big guns – “…Ju Li, the ancestor of the buddhas, who was the all powerful one of them all; and the Guan Yin, the Goddess of Mercy…” When they confronted the monkey he recognized Ju Li and submitted passively to his punishment and the promise of eventual salvation in the Western Paradise.

On September 13th I started this new post and decided to approach it somewhat differently. I have been thinking about it for a while. And struggling too.  What started out simply became increasingly complex. Like other postings this will probably be ‘Part One’. I don’t know yet.  But what I do know is that all of subjects I pick seem to spread outward like the ripples created by a stone thrown into a quietly serene pond.  So come back often and we’ll ride this one together.