1000 Pots, 1000 Thoughts

This weekend will mark the one year anniversary since the devastating Tsumai and Earthquake in Japan where over 20,000 lives were lost and millions of lives scarred if not destroyed. It seems so much further back than a year and it's amazing how quickly these catastrophic events get pushed to the back of our minds and overtaken with our personal trivialities. I am sure for those impacted in Japan it must seem like yesterday as so many are still struggling through the aftermath and trying to rebuild lives.

Today we went and saw an exhibit at the Brunei Gallery which captured some of those heart rendering images of lives impacted and the scale of destruction and reminded us how we should never takes our lives for granted.

The photos packed quite a punch and there was also an installation on the gallery's Japanese roof garden.

Over 
a 
period 
of 
a 
year, 
Yozo Hirayama 
has made one thousand pots as this number has a symbolic meaning in Japan, as it represents infinity or eternity.
 One 
thousand 
pots thus stands 
as 
a 
marker 
and 
a memory 
of those
 who
 died
 in the disaster. Each pot is individually
 crafted 
in 
his
 palm, 
so 
they 
are 
all
 slightly different 
in size 
and
shape. They are symbolic of all living beings across 
time 
and
 space, with the end result being a 
kind
 of 
ritual
 appeasement 
to 
the savagery of nature.

As a race the Japanese are very proud and very humble. They accept what they have with gratitude and do not take these for granted to the extent we do. Maybe that will give the resilience they need for these unfathomable rebuild.

Not beaten by rain

By Kenji Miyazawa

Not beaten by rain
Not beaten by wind
Neither snow, nor heat of summer
Such good health
No greed
Never aroused by anger
Always smiling in a peaceful way
Content with four cups of brown rice
Small quantity of miso and vegetable per day
Looking and listening to everything, without personal bias
And remembering it well
Living in a small thatched hut in the shadow of pine woods in a meadow
If there was a sick child in the East
He would go and nurse him
If there was a tired mother in the West
He would go and take the bundle of heavy rice off from her shoulders
If there was a dying man
He would go and comfort him saying ‘do not be afraid ‘
If there was a quarrel and court case in the South
He would go and let them see the triviality
In the time of long drought, he would shed hopeless tears
In the time of cold summer, he would pace up and down in despair.
No praise given
Yet no hostility from others
People might call him a good for nothing
But that is the kind of person I would like to be