In
August 1990, I moved to Japan to study Japanese language as
part of my PhD in anthropology. I moved into an old apartment
building in the northern part of Yokohama and my landlord and
landlady, an elderly couple, lived in the apartment right next
door. They went out of their way to make me feel comfortable
by having me over for, what else, tea and accoutrements.
Two
weeks after I moved in, my landlord died very suddenly of
an embolism. His wife rushed over to my apartment to tell
me the schedule for the funeral. I could see, despite my limited
Japanese, that I was to participate as almost a member of
the family. That meant I had to participate in an evening
memorial service, a funeral and cremation the next day and
a burial ceremony the following month. All of these rituals
were followed by meals so that they became pretty much all-day
affairs.
I was fairly shaken by the whole experience: first of all,
I hadn't packed mourning clothes for the trip! and more importantly
my Japanese was pretty rudimentary. Furthermore, I'd never
been to an open casket funeral before. . . somehow I got through
it, and put it down to experience. Later, I told my Japanese
teacher how uncomfortable I was during the process and wondered
what I could do to improve my composure in these situations.
It wasn't just the language: I felt sore and clumsy twisting
my long legs underneath my body while sitting on tatami
(in a position called seiza); I was still awkward with
chopsticks at the meals and people spoke in formal language
patterns with which I was totally unfamiliar. My teacher seemed
to understand completely and told me to call the school's
calligraphy teacher. Why? I thought - but it turned out Kobayashi
sensei not only taught brush strokes but tea ceremony.
The main idea behind tea ceremony is finding harmony between
oneself and the world through moderating one's actions, and
interacting with objects of art and nature (and people). Participating
in a chakai (a tea "party" in tea ceremony) means that
you must follow some rules; there is an order and flow to
the interaction. My teacher recommended I study tea ceremony
so that I could learn this flow, which included keigo
(polite language), techniques to enter, sit, rise, and exit
a tatami room, and a graceful way to pick up and put down
chopsticks. Students of tea ceremony don't just learn to make
tea, but also how to accept it graciously. There are many
small details, such as dropping the knee to the most distinguished
guest in the room when rising in a tatami room: this signals
your respect to him/her. Amazing! This was exactly what I
wished I had known while at the funeral. Even though I only
studied sado for about a year, I carried this knowledge
with me for the next four years that I lived in Japan.
The religious, aesthetic and culinary aspects of sado
(tea ceremony) are of course very important, but my most important
lesson from the centuries-old tradition was how to interact
with Japanese people at important occasions like funerals,
weddings, business lunches, etc. Some how tea training helped
me to "grease the wheels" of Japanese society. And after sitting
seiza for awhile, it does eventually become less painful.
I found that I could make three cups of tea and clean up before
I completely lost all sensation in my feet. I never managed
to host a four guest party!
