Fukushima - the story of a new garden

THE FUKUSHIMA GARDEN IN HOLLAND PARK

On11^th March 2011 a massive earthquake caused a tsunami to strike theeastern seaboard of Japan – particularly the Fukushima Prefecture. This naturaldisaster and consequent human tragedy led to a near cataclysmic melt-down ofnuclear power stations in the Fukushima region. Although nearly 2,000 peopleare known to have died, millions of people across Japan were directly andindirectly affected. Offers of assistance poured in from around the world – butamongst the first were those from the United Kingdom.

On17^th May 2012 their Majesties, the Emperor and Empress of Japan madea private visit to Holland Park prior to officially thanking the British peopleat a diplomatic reception in the Japanese Embassy for their compassion andpractical support in response to the disaster.

Somedays later, the embassy’s First Secretary, Kita Katsuhiko put the problem to me– where to plant some Rhododendrons and specifically R. brachycarpum – in Holland Park as an expression of gratitude forthe assistance rendered to the Japanese people. This particular Rhododendron iscommon in the Fukushima region. I balked at the idea of adding to the KyotoGarden so soon after last year’s major refurbishment and suggested an areabehind the black bamboos. As Yasuo Kitayama was expected to return shortly fromKyoto, we agreed to put the proposal to him - and dually did. However he wasnot particularly enthused by the idea.

Earlyon the second day of his visit we again discussed the idea. Was I sure I wantedthese planted “at the back of the bamboos?” he asked.

“Yes”,I replied, unless of course he had any other better idea.

“Aback garden?” he asked somewhatincredulously.  

“Oh!No!” I replied before asking if perhaps he would rather design a small gardenor border to show off the Rhododendrons.

Hesmiled, and having made his catch, told me to return that afternoon after he’dgiven it some more thought.

I returnedas instructed to find the normally composed Kitayama-san in full creative flow:he wanted steps over here, this tree moved over there, rocks – lots of rocks,and grass. “Yes! More hydrangeas and, please, extend that hedge ....” The list was demanding and the trees no soonerplanted than they were being up-rooted and moved again!

Overthe following days his three assistants, the gardeners and fitters worked like Trojansas he remodelled the site of the original works yard into a fitting memorialgarden under the working title of the “Fukushima Extension”.

Visitorsfrom the embassy were quickly followed by others from the Fukushima PrefecturalAssociation, the Fukushima Minpo, and former residents of the region. A fewdays into the build, Kitayama and his team had to return home. However he left veryprecise descriptions of what he had intended the garden to look and feel likeand departed with the ominous warning: “I’ll be back in November to see howyou’ve done!” Work continued . . .

OnTuesday 24^th July two 2012 Olympic athletes (Izumi Kato – a swimmer andKatsuaki Susa – fly weight boxer), an agricultural worker (Koushi Fujita) andtwo school children (Kanami Ajima and Miyu Matsubara) from the FukushimaPrefecture plus the Head Gardener of Holland Park and two local school childrenofficially opened the garden in the presence of a very distinguished audiencethat included: the His Excellency, the Japanese Ambassador; Mr Masato Abe,  Director of the Fukushima Prefecture Government;Cllr. Lady Borwick, the Deputy Mayor); Mr Yoshio Mitsuyama (Chairman of theFukushima Prefectural Association in the UK), Mr Seiich Nihei (Senior ManagingDirector, Fukushima Minpo) as well as senior officers from the Japanese Embassy,the Friends and Members of the Council.

Thegarden is probably best entered from the south. The left hand gate post has acalligraphic plaque (donated by the artist Kashuu) that reads Fukushima Garden.The garden is walked through via a footpath that evokes a dry river bed (hencethe pebbles) - tumbling in the north - west over the rapids (or steps) from theKyoto pond and in the east, from the hills and mountains beyond.

TheRhododendrons currently planted are R. x hybridus‘Cunningham’s White’, which is the closest variety that we could find to R. brachycarpum – the white floweringnative of the region. We did manage to find seven rather poorly specimens ofthe latter being grown by a Scottish nursery and these have been temporarilyplanted behind the screen further up the hillside. In future years it should bepossible to replace the 2012 hybrids. The flowers are interesting because thebuds are pink at first before giving way to white.

Themotto of the Fukushima Prefecture is “Never give up” and that is perhaps bestevoked at the entrance by the three “growing stones” that rise up from theground. The benches that were also donated by the Prefecture have beendeliberately placed on the grass to make the most of the various views acrossthe garden - including the shakkei orborrowed landscapes beyond its immediate boundaries. We will put more permanentbases in place in time.

Visitorsare being currently permitted to enjoy the garden in contact with the lawn. Wewill review this from time to time, but to date it appears to have beensuccessful; it has also helped the security guard who now has an alternative areaoutside of – but near - the Kyoto Garden to direct people towards.

Thecrack underneath one of the benches looking over the Kyoto pond has been enlargedand painted blood red to evoke an earthquake ... not too many people seemcomfortable sitting astride it!

Finalthoughts: the Fukushima Garden has been designed as a commemorative garden tomark the gratitude of the Japanese people for the support of the British peoplein an hour of great need. There is much to gain from compassionate responses tonatural events and accordingly the bonds with the people of Fukushima that bindall of us associated with this garden will indeed grow stronger.

“Together, we make the world” (Thich Nhat Hanh)

An iPhone finally …

Having previously blogged from my iPod Touch … very successfully and been constantly frustrated trying to use a BlackBerry for the same purpose, I have finally succumbed and purchased an iPhone.

The rest of the world already knows what an incredibly clever piece of equipment these are… I did too but was more drawn to the style and feel of the BlackBerry. Delaying the purchase has had its benefits: there is unlikely to be a better phone for a couple of years.

I am not completely anti-BlackBerry and as tweeted recently, believe the PlayBook to be an excellent innovation in terms of its size and ability. I am though frustrated continually by the arrogance of its Canadian developers: RIM. We had to wait nearly a year for basic applications.

So where to now? I remain hopeful of being able to link my phone by Blue-tooth to the PlayBook but am not optimistic of that happening soon. In the immediate future I can see the smaller of my two "pocket" computers keeping me happy.

One day Apple might just produce an iPad of the same size as the PlayBook - on present customer service I have to say that I'd switch overnight. A challenge therefore to both for my loyalty?


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

The Town Hall prayers debate: an opportunity for greater compassion.

In response to the High Court judgement outlawing acts of Christian prayer from town and city halls, the former Archbishop of Canterbury, Lord Carey, commented: “it does look as though the Christian voice is being silenced and I am very worried by the dangers of a creeping secularisation. The marginalisation of Christianity is hollowing out our value system and our culture and this worries me more than anything else.”

The Archbishop, it seems, is more concerned by a shift in values and change in our culture than in faith and the 'good news' that the Christian gospel is held by Christians to convey - the spreading of which is meant to be a principle objective.

The reasons that this religion – and by that I mean the set of rules set down by clerics such as the former Archbishop, the plethora of Popes and other religious figures over the millennia – is being over-taken by “creeping” secularisation are not hard to find. The established church has deliberately marginalised itself from a rising tide of compassion that unites not just Christians, but Jews, Muslims, Buddhists and people of other great Faiths. This compassion I would argue is at the heart of a more tolerant global society and reflects greater dependence upon democracy than theocracy. Witness how many more junior clerics in the Church of England are now supported by the current Bishop of London in their quest for more inclusive and tolerant policies.

Many churches are reputedly located on the sites of former temples or sites of special religious significance to followers of the druids and other pre-Christian faiths. Britons today are more numerous, and diverse in terms of colour, culture, ethnicity and open about their sexuality than at any other point in our history and yet churches that were once filled are now empty, converted into houses and theatres or being filled by people of other faiths.  Small, verging upon extremist, factions of evangelical Christianity are probably the most constant visitors to today's still open Protestant churches.

There is documentary evidence (such as the story of Saint Issa) that suggests Christ spent much of his life outside of the Holy Land living in India where he was able to study the ancient Buddhist scriptures and learn from other non-Judaic religions. There are aphorisms in the Dhammapada (probably best read as a Buddhist Book of Proverbs written in Pali) that are believed to be the actual teachings of Buddha, and which bear a remarkable similarity in imagery and sentiment to those ascribed to Christ in the New Testament; this is of course quite apart from the instructions and observations we now associate with Lao Tse and Confucius who lived even further to the east and indeed  earlier than Buddha or Christ. That ideas and faiths have travelled vast distances is not surprising given the time between these great scriptural testaments being recorded and later written down. Zen Buddhists are possibly unique in their open acknowledgement of the origins of some of their ideas and practices. That the inclusive image we might wish to have of Christ should be associated with the compassionate and profound ideas and teaching of Buddha is also not surprising.

History is full of examples of cultures evolving and others disappearing as new ideas and traditions arrived either peacefully - or at the point of a sword.

The Christian response to slavery, and then women clerics, gay people and other minority groups in the late Twentieth century and early years of this, sadly emulate its previous responses to the challenges presented by people of colour and indeed its historically held perception of its own superiority over other faiths. It took decades to change the church’s view on race, to appoint people of colour as junior clerics and eventually appoint its first black Bishop. The Creator must have shuddered in amazement at that momentous event.

My message to Lord Carey, the current Archbishops of Canterbury and York - Messrs. Williams and Sentamu and their apologists: stop blaming secularism for all that has gone wrong; acknowledge that it may be the church's complacency and historical complicity with wealth and political influence at the expense of our wider society that have caused people to turn their backs on your leadership and organised religion.

The judgemental description “creeping” attached to secularisation by Lord Carey will not stop people rioting on the streets, bankers 'stealing' millions to put into their bonuses or politicians defrauding the electorate. Instead it will build even taller walls between the established church and its former followers - language and sentiment such as this are no longer a credible response. In short people don't care what the Bishops think.

People no longer believe the Church will or can “save” them. In fact, if they are gay and they have to look to Archbishop Sentamu for direction, they must question what the salvation is from or indeed if they want to be 'saved'. Religious bigotry and intolerance is from the same disordered mind as the racism Sentamu has regrettably faced in recent days. He could, however, learn much by listening to former Archbishop Tutu of Cape Town and the current Bishop Charteris of London before attacking gay people and the 'divine' right to a meaningful relationship within the context of a chosen faith. 

The real casualty in the rise in secularism will be people losing faith not so much in the organised religions and churches, but in faith itself. If people cease to see in their hearts that there may be a purpose for them, that there may be something far greater than ego and physical self, the stop watch on the present human world will start to tick a great deal faster. Secularism without a system of values does not offer anything but a void. Equally, however, religion without a realistic, rather than just an ethereal, purpose loses validity to its claim to link to a higher cause.

I do not believe that we should be enslaved to the established wishes of the Church of England, a quaint Town Hall tradition that feigns devotion or indeed to  Canterbury’s current view of the rules.  I do, however, believe that faith in a greater order, power or purpose than us (God if you will), should be preserved and encouraged. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, observed in a Credo article recently published in the Saturday Times, “There is only one God but there may be more than one path to his presence”. 

A few minutes reflection, at the start of a democratic meeting, upon words drawn from any of the scriptures that inform the varied, yet compassionate, faiths in Britain today, will encourage greater humanity from our elected leaders. The proposed demise of solely Christian prayers – perhaps an imposed imperialist Victorian tradition – is not something I think we should mourn.

“We are what we think.

All that we are arises with our thoughts.

With our thoughts we make the world.” (Buddha)

The closeness and vulnerability of modern communications

A weekend upon which to reflect my links over the past twenty-four hours with people literally all over the world.

I have commented upon a photograph posted in Australia, exchanged plans to meet up with friends in California and New Jersey, discussed details of a pamphlet I have finally completed this week with my contacts in Kyoto and today arranged accommodation in South Africa for a visit in March. Add to that just now a Skype call to a friend in Reading (I am finally getting the hang of it - I think) and conventional telephone calls, mobile phone calls and texts through the day.

I remember vividly twiddling the dials of HF radios during late night radio watches whilst serving in the Rhodesian army in the 1970's and listening in absolute awe at the ease with which civilian radio hams spoke over the air waves to each other. The world seemed a great deal bigger then and yet, in the stillness of the night, we were all so close - they chatting, me listening.

I am constantly amazed by the progress of information technology and how we seem to so quickly take it all for granted. Where would I be without my iPod - my BlackBerry - my laptop or PlayBook (which I am learning to re-love)?

The World Wide Web - that takes me back to my first Apple computer in the 1990's ... now we have Wikipedia in place of the Encyclopedia Britannica (or is it alongside?).

At what point will we or should we stop evolving these electronic communications systems, I wonder? Are we the better for them? Luddites step forward ... I guess so long as we don't forget how to multiply or divide, a desk calculator can't hinder progress; it will be when we lose the ability to communicate without access to electronic power or gadgetry that the problem will begin. Taught as a cub, I at least, can still use semaphore flags!

The space between two pine trees

Researching the different features of the Kyoto Garden in Holland Park, I discovered the unusual significance of two, as opposed to three, pine trees. One represents the future and the other the past. Looking through them we see the present. 

Two objects linked together is unusual in the Buddhist faith as three - representing the Trinity or one of the Trinities (for there seem to be a number of interpretations) is the norm. 

A recent television film I watched described the departing aliens as disappearing 'into spaces between time'. What a wonderful concept I thought - not the future and not the past nor even the present.

This had me thinking this morning about the present and the past and how they are linked. We describe the present as 'now' - but then add the descriptive word 'just' for to it to mean both the future - just now - and the past - just now. 

Two old pine trees, I thought, that carry a tapestry of sadness and past joys in the one and a barrel load of hopes and dreams in the other. Linking them is 'now': the present - the space between which only we can fill (or empty) with Mindfulness. 

Now there is something upon which to meditate!

Is that so?

In his inspiring little book "Writings from the Zen Masters" (Penguin paperback), Paul Reps quotes the story of the Zen master Hakuin which goes as this:

The Zen master Hakuin was praised by his neighbours as one living a pure life.

A beautiful Japanese girl whose parents owned a food store lived near him. Suddenly, without any warning, her parents discovered she was with child.

This made her parents angry. She would not confess who the man was, but after much harassment at last named Hakuin.

In great anger the parents went to the master. "Is that so?" was all he would say.

After the child was born it was brought to Hakuin. By this time he had lost his reputation, which did not trouble him, but he took very good care of the child. He obtained milk from his neighbours and everything else the little one needed.

A year later the girl-mother could stand it no longer. She told her parents the truth - that the real father of the child was a young man who worked at the fishmarket.

The mother and father of the girl at once went to Hakuin to ask his forgiveness, to apologize at length, and to get the child back again.

Hakuin was willing. In yielding the child, all he said was: "Is that so?"

Mindful of that story (meditation does work!), I replied today to an email from an uncomplimentary, 'serial' critic, of the work of one of my teams in a most unlikely manner - for me that is. "Thank you" I wrote and wondered if Hakuin would have approved.

Autumnal colour - but from Dahlias?

For most of us the autumn means a splash of red, gold and yellow foliage, windy days and cool or frosty nights.

In Holland Park, however, it is the last gasp of riotous colour in the Napoleon Garden that catches my attention. This small corner is so-named as it once housed a bust of the famous emperor who was much admired by a previous Lady Holland. Sadly the bust disappeared and many an hour has been wasted trying to guess where in the park it might be buried. 

The colour I refer to is from the dahlias that flower so prolifically there late in the summer each year before being cut down by the frosts of the autumn. The display is no accident and from 2012, as a part of the official diamond jubilee celebrations of the park, the plants will be supplied by the National Dahlia Collection.

Dahlias are natives of Mexico, Central America and Colombia and were first recorded by European explorers in 1615 (Francisco Hernandez, published this record much later, though, in his book on medicinal plants in 1651) and again in 1787 by Nicolas-Joseph Thiery de Menonville while looking for cochineal insects. Named after Anders Dahl, a Swedish botanist, seeds were sent back to Madrid and flowered in October 1789. These plants were called Dahlia coccinea and it is from them that Lord Bute obtained seeds to try growing in his garden in England. These failed.

The Dutch imported a box of roots around about this time and their sole surviving plant named Dahlia juarezii was crossed with the D. coccinea to produce a long line of hybrids that we now enjoy in our gardens today. 

A second species of dahlia - believed to be the dark petalled D. variabilis was successfully grown from Spanish seeds in 1804 by the head gardener in Holland House (now Park). 

Once only known and cultivated by the Aztecs for food and decoration, today we know of at least 36 species and on account of the dogged determination of garden plant breeders, enjoy a rich palette of dahlias. 

The Meredith Kercher case

Along with the rest of the world, it seemed, I watched the final minutes of the murder appeal in Perugia with alarm and morbid fascination.

I am alarmed by the apparent injustice of the Italian system which seems to arrive at the right verdict only after many years of judicial review. Four years is an awfully long time to imprison somebody and then decide that they were innocent after all. This has apparently been on almost a fast track.

I have felt for a long time that Amanda Knox along with her Italian boyfriend Raffaele Sollecito, were innocent and found the tension at the end almost unbearable. The story that was put out about their alleged sex games sounded just too implausible from the start.

The DNA tampering and shoddy investigation has echoes of the Madeline McCain disappearance in Portugal. The consequence: questions left unanswered and thought (if not fact) that somebody might have slipped through the net.

The arrival of Meredith Kercher's mother, brother and sister at the court on the final day appalled me. Their hastily called press conference and statement after the closing statements, the stories of million dollar book deals, lurid detail and the like, was designed by the prosecution to achieve just one thing: to swing the response of the jury away from the evidence back to an opinion based purely on emotion.

The family still hold to the idea - and that is all that is - that a second and possibly a third person was involved. That idea (with no supporting evidence at all) comes from the prosecution. Sadly they have not yet come to terms with that fact and until they do, until there is some other evidence now produced that actually proves this point, there will be no closure for them.

I feel the Italian prosecution service has destroyed more than just the reputations of the innocent parties here - the Kercher family will remain the victims of this appalling murder and seriously botched investigation. Meredith would clearly never have wished for this either. She, her family, the innocent parties (and their families) so wrongly accused and indeed the people of Italy deserve better.


And now we hear how the BBC has uncovered sufficient doubt in the Colin Norris case to almost certainly warrant a re-trial. Norris was convicted of murder as five very elderly and sick, diabetic women died whilst in his care from alleged insulin overdoses. It turns out this is neither an unnatural event nor rare condition in similarly infirm women and has occurred on other shifts in the Leeds Hospital where he worked. 


Another young person wrongly convicted of an awful crime due to shoddy investigation and aggressive "adversarial"  prosecution? 

A Walk Around the Kyoto Garden in Holland Park

This is probably going to be like “putting legs on a snake” as the Buddhist’s saying goes – i.e. something completely unnecessary to your enjoyment of the garden.

However, I do hope that my interpretation lifts a corner of the quilt of Western ignorance with which we collectively cover this garden and that you leave here with a slightly better understanding of some of the stitches employed in the tapestry.

I am not a professional lecturer, a Buddhist nor an academic. I am a gardener trained in the English garden tradition so bear with me if my knowledge is at times not as sharp as one might wish.

Granite entrances:

Our walk starts at either gate with us walking on granite. Kyoto is surrounded by granite and therefore it is of no surprise that the principle rock used by them is their native igneous rock. Some of the granite (particularly the dressed stone) is actually from Kyoto but most is from Scotland. We will talk much more of rocks and stones on this walk.

This isn’t a temple so the normal etiquette required in Japan is not followed. However, if you do want to take your shoes off – please feel free to do so. You’ll learn more through the soles of your feet than perhaps listening to me! Either way please be mindful of where you place your feet.

The steps were originally going to be faced with wood but that was not followed through.

We enter the garden by following movement along the diagonal. This is a Buddhist tradition that will be explained later. It doesn’t matter which gate you enter by – the direction that you are naturally encouraged to follow is on the diagonal and in a clockwise direction and I will talk more of both points shortly.

To the left is a bronze plaque that records the many very generous people who contributed to the building of the garden in 1991. Designed by SHOJI NAKAHARA, it was opened by HRH the Prince of Wales and HIH the then Crown Prince (and now Emperor) of Japan in September of that year.

The Kyoto Chamber of Commerce have looked after the garden ever since by sending over small teams of gardeners from the Kyoto Gardens Association every three or four years. From this year that arrangement has been changed to a more formal Service Level Agreement between the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea and the Kyoto Gardens Association.

To mark that change, the Kyoto Chamber of Commerce paid for a fresh team of gardeners led by Yasuo Kitayama to carry out substantial alterations and additions.

Yasuo Kitayama is probably the most well respected Japanese gardener of today and heads the Kyoto Gardens Association. Remember the name: Kitayama.

There are four main principles behind Japanese gardens: nature; geomancy; Buddhism and a system of taboos, all of which we will encounter as as we go round. These principles are set out in a book called Sakuteiki – a subject we will return to later in our stroll.

Standing back and surveying the garden in front of us it is pretty obvious that what we’re looking at is indeed a natural scene.

In front of us are trees, grass, plants, a pond, waterfall and rocks laid out in an attractive order.

Primitive people have always been close to nature and their environment and thus winding the clock back about 4,500 years we find the earliest known religion in this garden’s time-line is Tao.

Taoists believe that the essence of all things is found in Tao. What is Tao? There are plenty of theories – however, the key point is that they see “Tao” in all things – particularly the natural world.

This vision of the natural world was then adopted by the Buddhists who happily co-existed along side Tao and used the natural imagery of that religion to develop gardens as examples of heaven on earth.

When the original, ritual rich, Buddhism was introduced to Japan from China a similar assimilation took place with the native Shinto religion which also saw gods and spirits living in natural objects. This strong tradition of nature in the garden was developed further with the development in particular of Zen Buddhism in Japan.

Now let’s consider as we look at this natural scenery, the next principle of Japanese gardens – geomancy:

Geomancy is a catchall expression describing a complex group of interrelated concepts that are popularised today as feng sui but which is probably best described as a form of Eastern astrology.

It originated in China and there are three sources of Chinese theoretical geomantic principle with which the garden has to comply:

1. The theory of Yin and Yang (or the theory of mutual opposites) which the Japanese call In and On.

2. Yi (the theory of changes), also known as I Ching; and

3. The Five Phases Theory.

To those must be added the four guardian gods – black tortoise in the north, blue dragon in the east, scarlet bird in the south and white tiger in the west.

We could go into a lot of detail on this and it is a fascinating subject all of its own – but I propose to push on and just ask you to accept that when I say such things as “the movement of change is in a clockwise direction” – you accept that and that the source of is the Theory of Yi.

Modern Japanese gardens still have to comply with these ancient principles and there are plenty of examples in this garden.

The next principle that I want you to consider is Buddhism and because this is a Japanese garden, Zen Buddhism in particular.

Zen was first formulated in China (as Ch’an) and evolved in Japan into the type of Buddhist philosophy that we now see practiced all around the world.

Zen means “meditation”, and consequently you can be of any faith and still practice Zen. Buddhism is not a religion in the sense of “faith” as Siddhartha Gautama, the historical Buddha from northern India, never claimed to be anything more than an Enlightened Individual.

Many people will say that Zen gardens are dry, consisting of raked sand and stones – the one at Ryokan-ji with its fifteen stones perhaps being the most famous. They are right.

But Zen gardens are also wet – being made up of moss, trees and stones. As moss will not readily grow in our climate – we use grass.

If you are going to meditate you need to concentrate your thoughts on just one thing at a time. To help, followers of Zen use unanswerable puzzles called koans to concentrate the mind. (“What is the sound of one hand clapping?” for example)

Another instrument they use is a garden such as this one. This is called a stroll garden and the idea is to hide and reveal different natural scenes as you walk.

You cannot pay attention to the whole garden at once – and that is why it is made up of different scenes or view points.

I mentioned just now one of the most famous Zen gardens in the world - the one in Ryoan-ji which contains 15 stones set in a bed of sand. Although it isn’t a stroll garden such as this, no matter where you stand – you will never ever be able to see all 15 stones at once and hence the principle of hide and reveal!

The final principle that I mentioned earlier relates to taboos. And this is where our physical walk probably first demonstrates compliance with the four basic principles.

This stone on the left of the entrance is a Tsukubai – a small basin in which to wash your fingers and rinse your mouth before starting the stroll through the garden to the Tea Ceremony. It is taboo not to cleanse yourself before entering a mosque. It is taboo to not cover your head (if you are a woman) when entering certain Christian buildings or not to wear a skull cap when entering a synagogue if a man. We all have taboos! This is a Japanese one.

The basin is designed to look like an old Chinese coin. Remember Buddhism came from China to Japan and this evokes age.

Age is an important component of Zen as it implies wisdom and experience. Opportunities are found in many areas to deliberately evoke age – through arts such as bonsai and the pruning of trees in the garden called niwaki.

To read the inscription, you have to include the square in the centre. Translated, the inscription reads, rather aptly I think, “Know enough – Enough to know”.

Normally there would be a small ladle on the top – this now lives in my office for photographs and special occasions.

Across the path – we have the meadow.

A principle of the garden is that it must be natural. This evolved under the Zen influence in particular into a series of natural scenes that were viewed and contemplated on the way to a Tea Ceremony.

Tea was introduced to Japan at about the same time as Zen and they came together as a ritual to focus the mind as much as to provide a welcome stimulating shot of caffeine to otherwise dozing medidator’s!

Earlier gardens were laid out as natural views to be enjoyed from the house – particularly the Southern Court or as pleasure gardens representing a sort of heaven on earth – spaces for earthly delight.

Zen introduced a much more austere view – simple needs, simple means. Abstract and fluffy rituals were banished in favour of meditation and in particular sitting meditation (Zazen) to assist with attaining enlightenment.

So what are we to make of the meadow? It is one of the views provided in this garden stroll. The Tulip tree’s aerial roots are now much lower than they would ordinarily be as the ground as had to be raised. To prevent that harming the tree and causing collar rot, a thick layer of pebbles in bags was wrapped around the base. This is a novel solution to a common problem rarely seen anywhere else.

The stones (and I am going to be pointing out a lot of stones to you for very good reason) these are called Chasing Stones. These are so called as they evoke either a pack of dogs at rest, pigs in a field or calves at play.

Looking beyond the chasing stones we see the pond:

The pond is roughly shaped like a tortoise (Kame) “because water takes the shape of the vessel it enters”.

It could also be in the shape of a crane (Tsuru).

A tortoise (do you remember that I said the Black Tortoise is the god protecting the north of the garden?) is the symbol of longevity and good fortune while the crane is revered as a symbol of eternal youth and happiness: “Cranes live a thousand years – tortoises 10,000”.

The pond shores: The closest shore line to us is called the Pebble Beach (ara iso). Originally only the Emperor had this feature in his garden but the rules were relaxed in time. It is deliberately uninviting to sit upon.

Next to it is the Rocky Cove shoreline (sahuma). These evoke the rocky shores of the Japanese coastline and the dangers that they present are emphasised by the Lighthouse lantern.

And over there on the far south eastern corner is the Boggy Marsh. I would have expected this to have been in the south west corner for two reasons – the geomantic tradition that the waters of the Blue Dragon shall flow and wash evil away following the path of the White Tiger (ie the water should flow as it does from NE to SW) and as an anagram for Kyoto where fresh springs traditionally were found in the NE and boggy soils in the SW.

The islands: Japan is of course made up of many islands and so it is not surprising that we see them included in the pond. Tradition has it that these evoke the Tortoise and Crane myths that I described earlier, however the thinking now is that these represent Pine Bark Island (matsu kawa) and Mountain Isle (yamajima).

A very famous 17th Century Japanese poet, Matsuo Basho (1640-1694), once wrote a haiku that translates as “Islands shattered / into thousands of pieces / the summer sea”. [Shimajima ya / chiji ni kudakete / natsu noumi]

Looking back now we see the granite viewing area. Granite is the predominant rock of the Kyoto region. Standing here we have a new view of the Cascade – the feature most people think of as the key component of this garden.

It is located in the NE corner for reasons that I gave just now – the waters of the Blue Dragon shall flow and wash away all evil by following the path of the White Tiger.

There is another reason too – according to geomantic tradition the cascade has to face the moon and if you remember my earlier explanation of mutual opposites – Heaven and Earth; Wind and Thunder; Mountain and Lake etc – you will probably now realise that the Sun is placed in the East and the moon in the West.

There are two very similar cascades as this to be found in a temple complex TAIZO-IN near Kyoto. The original one is in a dry ZEN garden and the most recent one, has running water. Ours was dramatically altered this year and if you look closely at it you will notice that the water flow roughly follows the kanji symbol known as Fudo Myoo.

Fudo Myoo is the Japanese name for a Sanskrit Buddhist God called Acala who is one of the Five Wisdom Kings of the Womb Realm revered mainly by adherents to the Shingon sect.

He is reputed to live in cascades but when drawn or sculpted has a curtain of fire behind him: why? The answer is found in the earlier explanation of geomancy – as water puts out fire they are mutual opposites.

Fudo Myoo’s presence is important here as he protects, instructs people in the teachings of the Buddha and assists us with self control – mainly because he, the immovable one, is unmoved by all things and in particular, carnal attractions.

At the top of the cascade is the mountain. In the mountain the holy man lives, living off moss and drinking the mists. Flanking its sides are the forested ravines.

We move now to the bridge:

I suggested you might want to take your shoes off at the start of this walk – and here is why. These stones are deliberately difficult to walk on as a lesson that life is difficult and we always need to watch our step. Take care. Without shoes you will probably appreciate this point of the walk more than if your feet are soled.

The bridge is almost identical to one in TENJU-AN – another temple in Kyoto.

Originally it was planned to be located between the Tulip tree and the Headache tree, but once on site, SHOJI NAKAHARA, the original designer of this garden, changed his mind.

It is staggered because evil travels in straight lines. Unable to change direction, the evil thought or demon drops into the sea.

This also reminds us to consider the barriers to the ramped entrance and the wall in front of the main steps. Walking directly into a Tea garden or building as one does an western office block is unlucky – it’s taboo. There – that word again. Taboo.

Taboos can occur at any time and in any place and the only way to avoid them is to skirt around them – ie step aside or to change direction.

People can be affected by taboos as well as places. Traditionally anyone with a taboo on them would advertise that by putting a taboo stick on the entrance to their house or room that they were in. People would then approach them by another direction or avoid them until the taboo had passed. If they had to go outside, they would wear a taboo stick as an adornment on their heads.

Old hat? You may think so – but today we see people in Japan walking down the street particularly in winter with face masks on to avoid spreading a cold to their fellow citizens – a modern version of a taboo stick.

As we pass over the bridge we see the largest snow lantern (yukimi) in the garden on our right. This would be lit with a candle for snow viewing – a winter occupation akin to moon gazing, Zazen or even train spotting.

To our left we see a new lantern – also a snow lantern but with natural scenes carved into it most noticeably a deer on the northern side. And just beyond – to scare the Munchak deer that have been recorded in the park for the first time this year - a deer scarer (or Shisi-odoshi).

Beside it is the well – a new feature that is particularly evocative of temple gardens. You will notice the shape is square. This draws upon the famous CIRCLE – TRIANGLE – SQUARE calligraphy of an 18th Century Buddhist called SENGAI GIBON. “All things in the universe are represented by these forms.”

And this brings me very neatly to another aspect of this garden: why so much green?

The original Buddhist gardens of the Heian period in Japan were quite floral and represented as I said earlier, as sort of heaven on earth – a space for earthly delights as it were. However once Zen started to be formulated, that all changed.

Around about the 11thC monks returning from China brought with them highly prized black monochrome landscape drawings – called SUIBOKU SANSULGA – which allude to the belief that “black is the one true colour in which all others can be seen”. Translated into the Zen garden, green becomes the new black.

Flowers are still included as can be seen with the Hydrangeas over in the Black Tortoise territory and the water iris that flower in the marsh each spring. And of course, I re-iterate the point that were we to be in Kyoto, this garden would almost certainly be covered in moss rather grass.

The two pine trees (Matsu) have been deliberately shaped and pruned to age them. Pines represent something unbending and sturdy and there is another famous Haiku written by the poet Issa that reads: “Look to the pines of our godly land! The orishiya ships”. [Shinkokuno / matsu o itoname / orishiyabane]. This is a commentary on the Russian ships that were seen particularly in the north of Japan at a time when they were trying to remain cut off from the outside world … and something that opera goers will know from the sad story of Madam Butterfly they were unable to do when Commodore Matthew Perry arrived in 1853 from the United States of America.

Buddhists normally arrange things in odd numbers and so initially I wasn’t quite sure why there are only two pines here until I looked back through them to the new well and snow lantern. They frame a marvellous view of two more of Kitayama-san’s new elements in the garden and this view will be added to in the coming years as that part of the garden is to be further developed.

Feelings of enclosure in this garden are much more pronounced now by the various bamboo fences. This is in keeping with the reality of Kyoto gardens being mainly courtyards as well as providing a defined space for our walking meditation. The hooped fences are a very polite request not to walk on the moss / grass. Stepping over a straight piece of bamboo is akin to asking to be executed!

And now we look back near the entrance but not directly in front of it to those three rocks beside the Headache Tree. They are the Buddhist Trinity – Buddha and his two attendants. They are not directly facing the entrance because to do so is taboo (bad luck).

I drew your attention earlier that the flat rock behind the chasing stones – well, in addition to being a part of that group it is also the “fore stone” for this Buddhist Trinity. On there you may sit in Zazen or pay homage to the Buddha on the other side of the pond.

Stones are extremely important in the Japanese garden and the book that informs all Japanese Gardens is called Sakuteiki – which means “the setting of stones”. Written in the 11th Century it is the oldest surviving book on Japanese gardening ever written (and probably on any gardening for that matter) and survives today as two brush written scrolls. Later editions have fortunately included illustrations.

And now – we return to the point at the start of our stroll where I asked you to remember a man’s name – Yasuo Kitayama, reputedly the greatest garden builder and designer of his generation, head of the Kyoto Gardens Association, creator of gardens all over the world etc.

Why?

For the answer we need to return to the cascade. You will see that very large yellow coloured rock in the centre of the cascade and which took many hours to place correctly this year. The water rushes around it to provide the curve in the kanji symbol for Futo Myoo – the immovable one. The rock is made up of calcite rather than the igneous granite used elsewhere and comes from the mountains to the north of Kyoto.

Just as every great painting has the artist’s signature on it, I am sure you will not be surprised to learn that this garden is also signed. That rock is Kitayama-san’s signature on this garden – for that rock, shipped over from Japan, was actually quarried in the Kitayama mountain range.

Time for tea.

(With considerable thanks to my mentors: Yasuo Kitayama, Steve Hagan, Marc Treib, Prof. Jiro Takei and Prof. Marc Keane amongst the many others . . .)

Remembering 11th March 2011

Today I visited the annual Japan Matsuri festival in London. This year it was held around County Hall across the river from the Houses of Parliament. 

Inevitably the focus was on the events that followed the earthquake and subsequent tsunami that struck north east Japan on 11th March this year. I was encouraged to make a white gauze "sakura" (cherry blossom) brooch by the people representing the Sakura Front, one of a number of charities collecting funds for the relief of survivors. 

Inside County Hall, the Japan Tsunami Exhibition, was profoundly moving. In addition to photographs a table displayed a number of objects recovered from the area. These were displayed on pieces of brown cardboard and everyone of them told an enormous amount about the people to whom they had once belonged. These were not televisions or computers but small pieces of mass produced china and children's toys, including  a simple doll carved very crudely from a piece of wood. How poor do you have to be to provide your child with such a toy? While I am truly humbled by the subliminal wealth of the parental love that must have created that toy, I am moved enormously by this simple object that says so much about the profound simplicity, hardship and poverty of these victims. People who had so little before the wave struck, have lost so much in material and human terms. 

The stoicism of the Japanese following the catastrophe is legend. Their battles continue. Alongside the exhibition was a series of photographs of survivors from the affected area all saying "I still dare to hope for - the rebuilding of my home, my village, no more tsunami's . . ." 

It is a date I would not want to forget, Sakura brooch or not - and shame on me if I should: I was born on the 11th March.