Auld Lang Syne Time is Upon Us Once Again!

Jeff—Saturday

Several years ago, a Mykonian lass who'd read my parody of "T'was the Night Before Christmas,"  suggested I take a crack at a similar treatment of "Auld Lang Syne," a New Year's Eve standard derived from a poem by perhaps the most famous Scot of all (other than our Caro)–Robert Burns (1759-1796). I see "Auld Lang Syne" as a paean of sorts to not forgetting old friends; somewhat of a downer subject as we all hope and pray for a far better new year for our world in 2025. 

But I went on to write the parody.

 

And I've come to realize over the years that what I wrote subliminally emerges as both uplifting and clear. I say that because last year I realized the question Ι posed in the first stanza is answered with optimism in the final line of each following stanza. Or so I think.:)

Robert Burns

 

Burns wrote the poem (here’s the original version) in 1787, set to the tune of a traditional folk tune (Roud #6294).  Its seminal phrase, “Auld Lang Syne,” is traditionally translated as “long, long ago” though “old long ago” is more literally correct (based upon my deep understanding of the Lowland Scots language) and is a song about love and friendship in times past. For those of us who believe in time travel, astral planes, and questionable sobriety, I should point out that the phrase “auld lang syne” has been used by other poets in their work, including one Allan Ramsay (1686-1757), which I guess gives our Caro and her Alan a claim to have beaten me to the punch (bowl).

The other Ramsay...also with another career, a wigmaker

Happy New Year, everyone—and please forgive me, Scotland.

Should odd acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should odd acquaintance be for not,
And made to toe the line?

As in odd.

For all fond thine, I cheer,
For all fond mine,
We'll share a cup o' kindness yet,
For we’re all fine.

And surely you’ll pick yours to hug!
And surely I'll pick mine!
And we'll show a lot o' kindness yet,
For we’re all fine.

For all fond thine, I cheer,
For all fond mine,
We'll share a cup o' kindness yet,
For we’re all fine.

We all have run about the hills
In search of flower wine;
And wandered many a weary foot,
But we’re all fine.

For all fond thine, I cheer,
For all fond mine,
We'll share a cup o' kindness yet,
For we’re all fine.

We too have paddled up the stream,
In mourning, fun, and grind;
And seas between us broad have roar'd,
But we’re all fine.

For all fond thine, I cheer,
For all fond mine,
We'll share a cup o' kindness yet,
For we’re all fine.

And here's a hand, my trusty friend!
And give a hand o' thine!
And we'll drink to kindness and good will,
For we’re all fine.

For all fond thine, I cheer,
For all fond mine,
We'll share a cup o' kindness yet,
For we’re all fine.

To get your head back in the holiday mood in case I misread the uplifting nature of my parody--and me hopefully back in the good graces of the Scots--here's the Royal Scots Dragoon Guards playing Auld Lang Syne accompanied by a journey to the timeless Scotland of Robert Burns' inspiration.

A Happy, Healthy, and Prosperous New Year to ALL!

—Jeff

Writing Standing Up--

 Ovidia--every other Tuesday

I know it's bad for people to sit too long but I'm also very aware I'm not staying on the computer long enough to get in all the writing I want to.

So in this year's 'lets prepare for a good 2024 end of year office clean up' I tried to figure out how to solve both issues--

and after I looked up the cost of standing desks, I rigged this up by shifting a shelf down to support my monitors, and commandeering a shoe box and stationery box to raise my keyboard and mousepad.

 I'm actually typing this standing up--the novelty hasn't worn off yet, so I'll say that so far it's great! 

I couldn't get a shot of myself using the set up, but my neck's comfortable, my elbows are at right angles with wrists supported and I'm quite pleased with the result.

I even got these to stand on--they're supposed to trigger acupressure points on your feet, 

but either my weight is too high or my pain tolerance too low and I find them too painful right now. 

Writing standing up will probably take some getting used to too, I'm giving it the first trimester of next year--

It's still possible to sit in here, of course--

 

And I the view out the window is even better while standing.

I was going to write about all my plans for the coming year, all I'm hoping to do/see/try/learn/move on from.

And then I learned that a dear friend's beloved husband of 30+ years just died. My first book was written for and dedicated to her but we haven't met up in years now--there was always something more urgent/ important/ interesting/ convenient

--but when something like that happens you realise how fragile the ties of life and friendship are.

I hope to remember to value these more as we move into the new year. 

Hatsuhinode: The First Sunrise of the Year

 -- Susan, every other Sunday

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

It's rare that January 1 and my week here at MIE converge, so it seemed like the perfect time to share one of Japan's most important New Year traditions: hatsuhinode (初日の出)  the first sunrise of the year.

The first sunrise I ever saw from the top of Mt. Fuji

Seeing the sun rise can be a powerful experience at any time. The rising sun is a symbol of strength and power, but also hope and a new beginning.

Dawn from the summit of Mt. Fuji

The very name of Japan - 日本  - means "origin of the sun" - a fact reflected in the country's long standing nickname: land of the rising sun. That nickname dates to at least the seventh century, when the Emperor of Japan sent emissaries to China bearing a message from "the emperor of the land where the sun rises to the emperor of the land where the sun sets."

At that time, Japan was known as Wa or Yamato. The country's name was changed to Nihon (later romanized "Nippon" or "Japan") in the 8th century--a reflection of the Imperial nickname (and the fact that from the perspective of the Chinese empire--in the 7th century, one of the greatest powers in the world--the sun rose in the direction of Japan).

The moment the rising sun crests the crater rim of Fuji

The tradition of hatsuhinode goes back many centuries, too. In Japan, it's traditional--and considered very good luck--to rise before dawn on New Year's Day and watch the sun rise over the horizon.

Dawn in Kii-Katsuura, on the Kii Peninsula

The custom has its origins in Japan's indigenous Shintō faith, in which Toshigami (a New Year deity known for bringing good fortune) must be greeted, and honored, precisely at dawn on New Year's Day to ensure good fortune and blessings in the year to come.

Another Kii-Katsuura Dawn 

Many people in Japan try to combine hatsuhinode with another New Year tradition: hatsumode, the first Shintō shrine visit of the year. Visiting a shrine on New Year's Day is also deemed to bring good luck, good health, and happiness in the year to come - and many people also bring home a hamaya--a traditional wooden arrow that's supposed to protect the family from all kinds of harm and illness throughout the year.

Dawn on the Nakasendo

As you're reading this after dawn on New Year's Day--or possibly later--you've technically "missed" the first sunrise of 2023. No worries...I've got you covered...  

Sunrise on Japan's inland sea

As a hiker, I'm used to getting up before dawn to head to the trail. The pictures in this blog are some of my favorite Japanese sunrises, seen throughout the years.

Sunrise near Tokushima on the island of Shikoku

Although they're not the first sunrises of the year, it's the first time you've seen them--and for many of you, they also may be the first sunrises you've seen in 2023.

Which, technically speaking, makes them your first sunrise of the year.

Sunrise At Lake Shikotsu, Hokkaido

See what we did there?

In Japan, the most coveted hatsuhinode is one that involves Mt. Fuji--so I've saved the best for last. I took the photo below in late November, at Lake Kawaguchi (Kawaguchiko), precisely at dawn.

It may not be the first, but it's absolutely the most beautiful sunrise I saw all year. 

And now you've seen it too.

Mt. Fuji at Dawn, November 2022

Wishing each and every one of you a happy, healthy, prosperous, and blessed 2023.

It's Auld Lang Syne Time Again

 

Jeff—Saturday

Several years ago, a Mykonian lass who'd read my parody of "T'was the Night Before Christmas," suggested I take a crack at a similar treatment of a New Year's Eve standard derived from a poem by perhaps the most famous Scot of all (other than our Caro)–Robert Burns (1759-1796).  I haven't posted that parody in several years, because I see "Auld Lang Syne" as a paean of sorts to not forgetting old friends; somewhat of a downer subject as we all hope and pray for a far better new year for our world.

HOWEVER, this year I took another look at my parody, and what to my wondering eyes should appear, but new meaning for all, both uplifting and clear. [Sorry, I couldn't help myself.]  For I realized the question posed in the first stanza is answered with optimism in the final line of each following stanza. Or so I think.

Robert Burns

 

Burns wrote the poem (here’s the original version) in 1787, set to the tune of a traditional folk tune (Roud #6294).  Its seminal phrase, “Auld Lang Syne,” is traditionally translated as “long, long ago” though “old long ago” is more literally correct (based upon my deep understanding of the Lowland Scots language) and is a song about love and friendship in times past. For those of us who believe in time travel, astral planes, and questionable sobriety, I should point out that the phrase “auld lang syne” has been used by other poets in their work, including one Allan Ramsay (1686-1757), which I guess gives our Caro and her Alan a claim to have beaten me to the punch (bowl).

The other Ramsay...also with another career, a wigmaker

Happy New Year, everyone—and please forgive me, Scotland.

Should odd acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should odd acquaintance be for not,
And made to toe the line?

As in odd.

For all fond thine, I cheer,
For all fond mine,
We'll share a cup o' kindness yet,
For we’re all fine.

And surely you’ll pick yours to hug!
And surely I'll pick mine!
And we'll show a lot o' kindness yet,
For we’re all fine.

For all fond thine, I cheer,
For all fond mine,
We'll share a cup o' kindness yet,
For we’re all fine.

We all have run about the hills
In search of flower wine;
And wandered many a weary foot,
But we’re all fine.

For all fond thine, I cheer,
For all fond mine,
We'll share a cup o' kindness yet,
For we’re all fine.

We too have paddled up the stream,
In mourning, fun, and grind;
And seas between us broad have roar'd,
But we’re all fine.

For all fond thine, I cheer,
For all fond mine,
We'll share a cup o' kindness yet,
For we’re all fine.

And here's a hand, my trusty friend!
And give a hand o' thine!
And we'll drink to kindness and good will,
For we’re all fine.

For all fond thine, I cheer,
For all fond mine,
We'll share a cup o' kindness yet,
For we’re all fine.

To get your head back in the holiday mood in case I misread the uplifting nature of my parody--and me hopefully back in the good graces of the Scots--here's the Royal Scots Dragoon Guards playing Auld Lang Syne accompanied by a journey to the timeless Scotland of Robert Burns' inspiration.

A Happy, Healthy, and Prosperous New Year to ALL!

—Jeff

Alive and Free - and Halfway / Already Home

--Susan, every other Sunday

On New Year's Eve, I reached the halfway point of my 100 Summits project here in Japan, with a climb of Mt. Tsukuba's twin summits, Nantai (871 m)

On the summit of Mt. Nantai (Number 49.5)

and Nyotai (877m).

And Summit #50 - Mt. Nyotai

Mt. Fuji even got into the act--despite the haze, I spotted her lovely cone rising up from the far end of the Kantō plain. (There's a legendary rivalry between the two mountains, which sit at opposite ends of central Honshu's large, agricultural plain--volcanic Fuji in the south and non-volcanic Tsukuba in the north.)

Hazy Mount Fuji. Look close. She's there.

In Asia, people customarily end the old year, and begin the new, engaging in activities, and eating foods, intended to symbolize the things they want for the new year. Unsurprisingly, health, prosperity, and family/love are high on the list.

The famous Gama-ishi (Frog Rock). Pitch a coin or a stone into its mouth for good luck! 

I chose to spend the last day of 2018 in the mountains because I hope the year to come includes many more mountains, successful climbs, and increasing health and strength.

Tsukuba Shrine, at the base of Mt. Tsukuba, New Year's Eve 2018

I chose to take the gondola down from the summit of Mt. Nyotai because I hope the year to come includes a few shortcuts too.

The climb of Mt. Tsukuba rounded out an even 50 summits since I started this adventure last May. In one sense, that makes me "halfway home," though in truth I've come to realize I was home the day I set the first boot on the base of Mount Akagi--the very first of my 100 climbs.

This is home.

Two weeks ago, while climbing Mount Kintoki in Hakone, I met a Japanese pensioner who has climbed Kintoki-san more than 200 times in the last five years. On the day we met, he was climbing in a parka, hiking boots with gaiters, and a pair of white shorts short enough to make Freddie Mercury blush.

The trail to Mt. Kintoki

We encountered one another about 30 minutes below the summit--I was ascending, he, descending--and he stopped to chat, so I stopped as well. (A fairly common occurrence in the mountains of Japan, even when you're not a foreigner.) He asked if I had climbed Mt. Fuji--who was looking down upon us at the time--and when he learned I had climbed the Fujinomiya Trail, he encouraged me to go back again and climb the longer Gotemba Trail too.

Mt. Fuji from the Kintoki Trail

(There is a proverb in Japan that says "Only a fool climbs Fuji twice." I suspect I am a fool.)

We talked about mountains, and hiking, and his hundreds of ascents of Mt. Kintoki - and then, just as the conversation ended and we prepared to continue on our way, he made a comment--out of the blue--that will remain with me as long as I live.

"I am not rich, but I am alive and free."

He spoke this truth as if it encompassed everything a person needs - the key to his joy, and the reason why he climbs.

As soon as he said it, he continued down the mountain.

And I continued up it, pondering the magical reality of those words.

Because this is why I climb as well.

In the mountains, I can focus on the air in my lungs, the sounds of trees and birdsong in my ears, and the earth beneath my feet. They offer room enough to think, to breathe, to be.

Each one of us needs a place that makes us feel alive and free. A place where our souls unfurl and our thoughts and dreams can soar.

A thinking place.

For me--as for that scarlet-gaitered, booty-shorted Japanese pensioner--the place is on a mountaintop. But I hope that you have a place like that as well--in the mountains or elsewhere--and that you find a way to go there often, even if it's just inside your head.

My 2019 wish for each of you (and myself as well) is peace, health, joy, and many, many opportunities to celebrate the fact that we are all alive and free.  

Happy New Year - and may your days be filled with joy and light.

Ready or Not, It's Auld Lang Syne Time Again...

Jeff—Saturday

Not being known for having a firm grasp on when it's best to call it quits, I thought I'd risk enhancing that reputation by parlaying the rave reviews of last Saturday's parody of "T'was The Night Before Christmas" into rerunning another parody (Ed. Note: "rave" being measured by Barbara not tossing me out on my red nose).  This one, though, probably should be written by a Scot since it’s derived from a poem by perhaps the most famous Scot of all—as opposed to the most famous reindeer of all—Robert Burns (1759-1796).  A Mykonian lass who’d read last Saturday's rendering a couple years back had suggested I take a crack at this New Years Eve standard, and who was I to resist a request? 

Robert Burns

Burns wrote the poem (here’s the original version) in 1787, set to the tune of a traditional folk tune (Roud #6294).  Its seminal phrase, “Auld Lang Syne,” is traditionally translated as “long, long ago” though “old long ago” is more literally correct (based upon my deep understanding of the Lowland Scots language) and is a song about love and friendship in times past. For those of us who believe in time travel, astral planes, and questionable sobriety, I should point out that the phrase “auld lang syne” has been used by other poets in their work, including one Allan Ramsay (1686-1757), which I guess gives our Caro and her Alan a claim to have beaten me to the punch (bowl).

The other Ramsay...also with another career, a wigmaker

Happy New Year, everyone—and please forgive me, Scotland.

Should odd acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should odd acquaintance be for not,
And made to toe the line?

As in odd.

For all fond thine, I cheer,
For all fond mine,
We'll share a cup o' kindness yet,
For we’re all fine.

And surely you’ll pick yours to hug!
And surely I'll pick mine!
And we'll show a lot o' kindness yet,
For we’re all fine.

For all fond thine, I cheer,
For all fond mine,
We'll share a cup o' kindness yet,
For we’re all fine.

We all have run about the hills
In search of flower wine;
And wandered many a weary foot,
But we’re all fine.

For all fond thine, I cheer,
For all fond mine,
We'll share a cup o' kindness yet,
For we’re all fine.

We too have paddled up the stream,
In mourning, fun, and grind;
And seas between us broad have roar'd,
But we’re all fine.

For all fond thine, I cheer,
For all fond mine,
We'll share a cup o' kindness yet,
For we’re all fine.

And here's a hand, my trusty friend!
And give a hand o' thine!
And we'll drink to kindness and good will,
For we’re all fine.

For all fond thine, I cheer,
For all fond mine,
We'll share a cup o' kindness yet,
For we’re all fine.

To get your head back in the holiday mood--and me hopefully back in the good graces of the Scots--here's the Royal Scots Dragoon Guards playing Auld Lang Syne accompanied by a journey to the timeless Scotland of Robert Burns' inspiration.

A Happy, Healthy, and Prosperous New Year to ALL!

—Jeff