Today the Julian calendar declares it to be Mother’s Day.  A day that goes back to the early 20th century in the United States in 1908.  This is not what I came here to write about today.  I am not here to tell the history of this civil holiday of flowers, candy and pastel colored brunches.  I am here, we are here, to discuss that everyday we need to Honor thy Mother, and thy Father.

It has personally taken me a long journey to understand this most basic of commandments.  I try hard to follow.  It isn’t always the easiest path.  In actuality it it is often the more difficult trod.

I have only one blood mother who born nursed and raised me in my life but this does not mean I haven’t had other mothers along the way.  My MomII was always there for me.  She kept me feed and looked after myself when I was away from my own home.  I know that she cared for me greatly.  My Aunt Shel, who at the time, seemed to lived forever away from my home, helped but some spiritual love in my path.  My mother in-law, Yachiyo, who I never knew so well, but she kept my belly full and accepted me as part of the family.  My grandmothers for being grandmothers to us.  One recent addition is Mama Lew an engaging woman who will always listen.

I live so far away from all my mothers.  it saddens me, but I know from all their guidance that they are always part of me.

We as a community need to respect our mother, fathers, and elders.  They have years, experience and wisdom that comes with passing of the moons.  Building a strong community begins with the bonds between parents and their children.  Children, no matter their age, need to respect and honor the sacrifices that their elders have paved for them.

Lots of Love to all the mothers and fathers that have come into my life.  Especially the one that raised me to be the man that I am today, Madelyn.

Love

Jacob

This is piece is the next in the continuing collaboration with Seth Brimstone Schere.

More than 10 years ago I was slicing a grapefruit it half with a kitchen knife.  I don’t recall exactly when.  It may well be more than 10 years.  There was really nothing unusual about it until i looked inside one of the halves.  There, imbedded in the grapefruit’s flesh was a seed that had already sprouted.  I had never come across a seed that had sprouted inside a citrus fruit.

I took this as a good sign, and I planted in a small pot.

The plant grew and grew over the years.  I gradually transferred it to bigger and bigger pots in a nice sunny place on my Tokyo patio. For years, there was only growth.  No flowers.  No fruit.  Just some oddly shaped grapefruit leaves.  Perhaps two years ago three blossoms appeared on the tree only to be swept away by the strong bay winds.  I was ready to give up on the tree and chop it down.  I thought that after all these years perhaps this tree was just infertile and would never bear fruit.

This all changed this spring.  When the nights began to warm and the new green shoots were sprouting forth, that is when I noticed the little white bulbs.  Not just in one section of the tree as they had been a few years ago, but they cover the tree. The white flower’s sweet scent filling the air as I water the garden.

As spring will quickly become summer I pray that some of these flowers will hold on with all their might and transform themselves into fleshy grapefruit but that is greatly out of my hands.  I only tend the garden.  There is only One who can do that.

I am truly thankful that I waited and waited.  Now I can enjoy the sprouted seed from all those years ago from that halved grapefruit.

The second image in a series that began with the Unleavened Days.  The Feast of the unleavened had finished and it is time for firstfruits.

Feel free if you wish to republish, distribute as you like.  Spread the word, sound, image, power.

Shalom

Peace

平和

سلام

שלום

As people observe passover across the globe we set off on a new exodus.  We have decided to break bread with the world and inaugurate a new collaboration consisting of myself, Jacob Schere, and my brother, Seth “Brimtstone” Schere.

Our first image Unleavened Days is being released this Passover.  We aim to release at least one image a mothy for the coming year and beyond.

We invite all to remember the days of old and apply heart to our collective lives in today’s age.

Exodus 12:18

Please feel free to distribute and share this image around the world.  Let us all take a month to reflect and remember why partaking in unleavened bread.

Peace

Shalom

Chag Sameach

chag kasher v’same’ach

חַג כָשֵׁר וְשָׂמֵחַ

The Gregorian calendar ticked over from 2014 to 2015.  One number now has become a new number.  Most see it as a chance to renew and hope for something better.  We dissect bits time into pieces that are manageable.  Seven days into a week.  Thirty days become a month.  Twelve months are a year.  We humans like the idea of a year.   We toss out the old, with the hope of filling the new with something better.

my 2014, like many others, was full of highs and lows.  Sometimes the lows are overwhelming and appear as if they will never end.  For us, and myself in particular, I need to focus in on the highs, even if they are just a small one.

Some of the highest heights of 2014 in no particular order.  I will let them flow out in a stream of consciousness.

•traveling the Caribbean with my extended family.

•meeting up with the photographic soul brother Giovanni in NYC. Taking large format images, and developing them in coffee.

•working with my wife in our patio garden.

•rescuing a kitty off a rooftop next to our home. (she became known as Roofy).

•cycling from my home to Skytree and back again.

•witnessing Nisan graduate from the Asian Rural Institute before she headed back to Myanmar.

•cooking most shabbats for my family.

•getting over a million views on Flickr.

•wife getting over the flu, and me over a sinus infection and still making it to the hot spring in Nasu, Tochigi, Japan

•guiding my brother Jerry on his first visit to Japan.

There are more.  There are many lows too, but I honestly try not to dwell on them.  Life’s sweet moments wouldn’t have that same flavor if we didn’t have those pains that slice into our soul.

On a January 2nd we headed into Tokyo for the annual hatsumode, going to a shrine or a temple for the first time in the new year.  Japan celebrated the lunar New Year before modernizing in the Meiji Era. After midnight on the 31st we usually cycled over to our local shrine and sipped some hot nihonshu (sake) or amazake after a moment of asking for a safe New Year.  Out of nowhere this year my wife decided to go to one of the larger shrines that she had never visited before, Hachiman Jinjyu in Yoyoogi, Tokyo.

All buses and trains are running on a holiday schedule as people make trips to visit relatives or shrines.  A short distance front he station and up a flight of stone steps the line began.  Shrine volunteers helped keep the line orderly as people kept on arriving.

Being the observer I just tried to take it all in.  The sights, sounds and scents of the new year.  People drop off their old amulets to be burned by the shrine and purchase new ones.  Coins are tossed into worn wooden boxes, as hands clap and bells rattled.

All and all a good day out on a short winter day.

We are never as alone as we may feel. We are never as low as we might fall.  I wish all good health and wishes for the coming year.  Let it be one that we regain our personal then our communal humanity.

much love!

Our short documentary KRS ONE: Brooklyn to the Bronx is now online and available for viewing and sharing.

Thank you to everyone who helped make this video a reality!

Jerry Kolber
Seth “Brimstone” Schere
Joshua Moïse
Natalie Lewis Schere

KRS ONE the Teacha

for more information please check the website

http://www.krsonebrooklyntothebronx.com

the video is available on youtube

and

vimeo

please share!

It has been more than 10 years since I lasted visited Kyoto.  I was there with my wife and my parents as we explored the city.  There have been shifts in the way I see the world; especially in the way I photograph the world.

Photography is my path to understand our world.  It is not only a way to remember, but more importantly it is the way in which I connect to our world.

I was looking froward to wandering the streets, shrines, and temples with my oldest friend, Jerry.  I was nervously anticipating how I would react and photograph Kyoto.  My approach to photography has grown since that visit with family 10 years ago.

What really surprised me is actually how few pictures I took.  Even though this collection were all taken on a film Contax T3 camera, even the way in which I shot my Ricoh was sparingly.  Images are precious.  I shot my digital in much the same way I used to shoot film and now I shoot film as if it was treasure.

After photographing for more that 30 years I know what I want.  It was fascinating to see without having to snap the shutter.  I enjoyed being in the lovely space of Kyoto.

Eventually there is a limit to how much one can take in of the city.  It is a must to be on foot as much as possible.  There are the “must see” places like Kinkakuji (Golden Pavillion Temple), Ginkakuji (Silver Pavilion Temple) each renewed for the opposing Japanese aesthetics.

The most moving Kyoto treasures were the smaller less visited places like Honen En (Temple) or the completely amazing Fushimi Inari Taisha (Shrine) were we wandered around at dusk to the early evening.  Entering into a special space that was as creepy as it was refreshing.

I still know I have only scratched the surface of this city but, on each visit I come tiny step closer to understanding it.

As always there is more to come.

My good friend Sawmi from Hualngo Land Developement Organization (HLDO) invited me to go to the farm.  She explained that this wasn’t just a day in the dirt, I would be meeting the people who run ARI (Asian Rural Institute).

ARI is an organization that attracts candidates from all over the world to come the countryside in Japan for 9 months and they will learn, use, and become leaders of their agricultural homes when they return.

The students attend lectures in each group.  They study about nothing going to waste on the farm.  They are encouraged by the staff to figure out the yes way for them to solve projects giving to them.  Each student is a member of a group which they will tend together.  In addition, each student has a small plot to plant and reap what every they like as a personal project.

Stepping out of the station we all noted the air was a tad drier and cooler than Tokyo.  It took nearly 3 hours of subways and local trains to get here.  Kathy met us at Nasunoko station in the farm’s van and wisked us over to the farm.  There was a mix of its permanent staff, volunteers, and the students.  We walked around the administrative building before heading out into the farm.  S

Nothing goes to waste on the ARI farm.  Even the husks from rice are burned and added to the compost, or to make natural pesticides.  The mission is to get the students to adapt what they learn to their home country.  To learn how waste from one crop can be the nutrients that feds the next.

We came to Nisan’s groups plot of land.  They had just put down some beans on raised beds and then covered them with the straw leftover from a rice harvest.  The straw keep the grounds moisture and keeps the weeds from getting sunlight to grow.

All the classes are conducted in English and Kathy supported Nisan in her explaining their methods to us all in English.

Livestock is also raised on the property including pigs, goats, sheep, chickens, and carp (fish).  Students often choose to study about a livestock depending on their need of their country.

We had a communal lunch of fried (tempura) green eggplants, tomato and vegetables salad, a a slightly spicy potato salad.  I was thankful for the bounty, and even more so that it was a vegan meal.  The meal was topped off with bowls full of luscious blueberries.

All the participants, volunteers, and students joined in on the communal lunch.  A quick prayer song was recited and we dug into the food.

Nisan at the Communal Lunch

One man from Liberia named Romeo was giving drumming lessons to a Philippino guitarist before we all broke bread.  Really a lovely harmony.

There was so much to see and do at the farm.  I was full of joy to see Nisan coming forward as a farming leader.  I will continue to support her and the Hualngo Land Developement Organization (HLDO).

I didn’t walk away empty handed.  Nisan handed us a bag full of long beans, eggplants, okra, tomatoes, and long green peppers.  Also picked up a little rhubarb jam for a breakfast treat.

Those of you in Japan who might be wanting to volunteer, look into the ARI (Asian Rural Institute).  Or, if you know of a country’s people that could use some solid training filled with love invite them to check it too.

some special shout outs!

Kathy, for picking us up and showing us around.

Yukiko, for telling her story, and giving Nisan all the support she can.

Sean- from Hawaii,  you are on your path.

Romeo- for making me feel welcomed and reminding me of my youth.

ALL the ARI staff, participants, and volunteers. Who have made my world, OUR world, a better place.

Garlic curing behind the communal kitchen

Rows of women’s workboots outside their dormitory.

Heated Hot House

Nothing but stone ground maize.

Fresh plucked blackberry in Nisan’s hand.

Summer is here.  I do love summer. The heat is relentless.  The storms are fierce, but best of all is the freedom to wander with a camera.

This year my photo wandering partner, Tomo, and I returned to Yororukeikoku.  Tomo chose to bring a TLR to capture the day.

Yororukeikoku lies deep in the heart of dog shaped Chiba prefecture.  A place so unvisited at this time of year, that we passed only to other hikers on a 10 kilometer trail in over 5 hours of time.

It took a bit over 2 hours by train including the double car Kominato line.  We took the train to the end of the line at Yororukeikoku station, snagged the remaining rice balls tow local summer mikans (mandarin organs) from the local conbini and made our way down the road.

The asphalt was streaming hot.  The conversation bounced around until I mentioned that it would be incredible if we encounter some “real” Chiba monkeys.  We both kind of laughed and kept stepping.

The winter storms had wrecked havoc on the paths, and many trails had been closed.  Our first major obstacle was getting around a fallen tree.  Not a big deal, but we would see other trees uprooted, and small landslides along the way.

The path criss crossed a small creek about a dozen times.  Sometimes it took us a minute or two to find the path on the other side.  After a rain storm, I am sure that the path would be even harder to keep track.

Lucky I had been breaking in a new pair of hiking shoes, which kept my feet dry and my ankles from twisting.

The first real rest we took about 2 hours in on the hike was an old homestead built in the 19th century.  All that remained were some of the foundation’s stones, and piles of broken shells and pottery.  It was a perfect place to break out some dried fruit and ice water, and just listen to the sounds of the countryside.

We got back on the train, and we began to ascend out of the valley.  This is when, even though we were in the shade, the sweat began to pour from all of our pores.  We reached the first ridge in the forest when sometime darted down a tree on our left.  At first we both thought a raccoon, but, it scampered rather oddly, it was then we realized it was an honest to goodness Chiba monkey.  My home, I had made in jest, had come true.

But we weren’t out of the valley yet and we still had to climb higher.  After some strenuous moments of plodding forward we reached the top and a small paved service road.  The rest was mainly down hill.

Coming out of a the forrest there were a few small farms ahead.  When a small brown blur bolted across the road.  Yes!  We had seen another monkey.  Not only one, but in the trees and bamboo on our left we could see others jumping about.  I was elated!  After seeing a half dozen snakes, and countless frogs, we had eyed the reclusive Chiba monkey.

They must prove problematic for the farmers, because in this part of the jungle they had fenced in their farms, I speculate to keep the monkeys out.

The road leveled out to view rice paddies to our left and right.  The sun was falling and the sky was filling with some cloudy wisps.  The Kazusa-Ōkubo station was ahead.  We had about 40 minutes before the next train.  No one was insight.  This station’s area was the inspiration for the Okubo Nekobus stop in My Neighbor Totoro.

We rested.  Shot our last couple of pictures, and waited for the train.  The sounds of summer were mesmerizing.  The chorus of cicadas, crickets, frogs, all in discordance harmony.  Not a soul was around.  Except, for the guy who drove up in a car, used the bathroom, then kicked up dust on his way out.  That was it.  We drank some cold water with paintings of Totoro to our backs and waited for the train.

A great day out in the jungles of Chiba.  Something I need to do more often.  I need to escape the concrete jungle for a lush green one.

It is that special time of year.  The Days are long.  The air it think with humidity that the annual summer hunt begins.

No animals will be harmed.  In fact, no one, and nothing will be harmed.  The only suffering are my feet and sweat glands.

It is the time of year to hit the pavement and go on a serious walkabout around my city.  I have been here for 15 years, and there still are areas within the city limits I have never explored.  It was this passion for exploration that I hopped on a train to wander around Kitasenju.

I had heard that it has a bit of a shitamachi (下町) feeling.  Or, as I like to say, an old part of town.  The sun was blazing as I began to wander.  No plans.  No guides.  Just a pair of boots and a camera.

There were pockets of some lovely old houses on the tiny twisting alleyways.  It really must have been something 30 years ago.

These old pockets of Tokyo are very quickly succumbing to the bulldozer all in the name of progress.

My camera does process some negative special powers.  There have been many times I have photographed some of these nuggets of urban treasure, only to revisit them later to find a 7-11 in its place.  I hope it doesn’t happen.

Stay posted for more hunting updates.  Stay cool, and hydrated.

Catch you all in the shade.

It has been a while since I have taken the time to gather my thoughts and post.  There has been much that has been swirling around my heart as the summer heat rises, and energy can be sapped.

There are times the world is overwhelming.  There is too much stimuli.  Not only too much, but it is often distorted through the lens of propaganda and misinformation.  The constant stream weighs heavily on my as I make my way.

It with all these emotions that we packed up the car and headed for the annual Slump Tennis beach BBQ party.  What is Slump?  That is a good question.  It is a casual group of friends that all play tennis together.  I, myself, don’t chase the fuzzy yellow ball, but my wife does.

Okitsu beach is on the southern end of series of beaches of Katsuura on the Chiba Peninsula.  It is a quiet town, that in it’s glory days was a small thriving fishing port.  Those days are long gone, but the fisherman’s boats and nets still trek out into the open Pacific Ocean.

Okitsu beach is a place for families.  There are nearly no groups of boys hoping to pick up some bikini clad girls.  None of that here.  Just lots of families gathered together for a day of fun in the sun.

We were lucky that the skies were a bit overcast which kept the mercury low.  The day before had seen a high of 35C (95F).  The sun poked out from time to time, but for the most part it was a lovely day with out searing our flesh.

It was great to let the cold salty waters wash over my overloaded heart and mind.  Just to get away from the city sprawl and reconnect with the beach of my youth.  I love to just wander around the old town, and walk up and down the small sandy stretch of beach.

The beach is littered with fragments of Japanese blue and white porcelain pottery.  No one has been able to tell me why there is always so much pottery to be found on this beach.  Do the fisherman just toss bowls into the waves when they are done with them?  Some of the pieces have had their sharp edges polished by the surf and the sand.

I was thankful to be away from it all.  To be able to relax with some friends, have some good food, play a little beach baseball, and to wander with my camera.

When the times are as turbulent as they are these days the first tragedy is the truth, we need the time to reconnect and sort though and discard the unneeded.  The day at Oktisu Beach helped to put it all back into proper perspective.

It has been 7 Buddhist years since the passing of my mother-in-law, Yachiyo.  I am not exactly sure what is the difference between a Buddhist year and other years, but it doest really matter.

The immediate family all gathered at our local Shingon Temple to hear some sutras, burn some incense and a short sermon by the 3 generation priest.  I am always fascinated by the bells, chimes, and bead rubbing the priest performs as part of the rituals.  I was torn between being absorbed in the sights, and repeating the Kaddish in my mind.  At least the bits of it i have committed from my youth.

The bits of wooden incense that are burned of hot coals always make me feel ill.  I am not sure if it is psychosomatic, or actually allergic to the woods and perfumes.  I was so deathly ill at the wake back on a cold day in January, 2008.

Yahciyo was special.  She always treated me like a son.  She would stuff money in my pocket no matter how much I protested.  There was always food in the house to keep my belly full.  No matter how oddly unconventional I looked I was her son from the west.  It never mattered.

She rarely ever went out with the family.  There was one time when she took us to her favorite sushi shop somewhere in Ginza.  It was the first authentic sushi I had ever eaten.  Before that it was only the cheap kaiten sushi.  The maguro flowed off the vinegar tinged rice.  She laughed and had a good time with us all.

We both shared a sweet tooth, and once she found out I like Pocky, she always kept stocked around the house or shipped it in care packages to us in the states.

I miss her.

This is for you.

Lots of love

Jacob, your Miami born son.

I have passed by this shopping street countless times.  It was always on my list to head back over there and take a stroll down the street.  After all, it is relatively in my own neighborhood.

The sun was high when I started off for the Sunamachi Ginza.  It is one of those spots that isn’t talked about much in a guide book.  It is off the beaten Tokyo path.  It is not like the Ginza of endless shopping stores.  These are little mom and pop stores that line a narrow street.  They are hawking every thing from all sorts of delectables to assorted stationary goods.  And if you can imagine it, it probably can be found on this street.

This is the way Tokyoites used to shop.   Spread all over Tokyo were shopping streets.  They are usually known as Shotengai or Ginza.  They are places were you’d do your daily shopping and then some.

I really didn’t buy anything on the street.  But I did head down a couple of the even narrow streets to see how the Sunamachi neighbors lived.

The houses were all neat and cramped.  Lots had the frontside gardens that I am so infatuated with.  It was a good day out.  The sun was blazing.  It was a great three hour cycle ride. The summer starts here.

It hadn’t been the best of weekends for me.  I spent most of the time ill in bed with having had my stomach turn upside down.  I had been surviving on some Jewish penicillin aka chicken soup and, for some reason, I have been crazing simple sweet breads.  That is pretty much all I have eaten since Thursday night.

I woke up feeling pretty good and really wanting to take my cycle out for a ride.  The weather forecast was predicting a high of 29C (84F) but it thankfully never climbed that hight.  My stomach decided for me that it would be best not to stray to far from home.

I spent a little bit of time on my patio garden.  I enjoy just sitting and being with my greenery.  I slowly inspect the leaves looking for pests.  Some no-see-ems have invaded my little vertical garden, and the green lime caterpillars have come back to much on my citrus trees.  I don’t mind.  It is a balance we all have to keep.

I finished the last bowl full of jewish medicine and needed to go to the home center to buy a few things.  I picked up some printer ink, some assorted packs of sunflower seeds and a few odds and ends at the OK Supermarket.

I spied my girl.  You know, don’t you?  My girl!  My Minami Kasai Girl.  She is always there between the elementary school and the used car lot.  Her hands are outstretched, not asking for anything.  She is just there being, and waiting for someone, anyone to put something in her hands.

Listen closely.  She isn’t begging.  She is not asking for handouts.  She just appreciates a little something something.  Thats all.  Nothing expensive, or trendy.  Today she had been blessed with a bit of purple plastic twine.  She is simple to please.  I just have to keep an eye on her to make sure she is well taken care of.

Just another pre summer Sunday afternoon.  I wish these days continue before the humid furnace is switched on.  It is often those simple familiar objects and people that make everything feel all right….

Last night the winds howled around the apartment buildings and homes in my neighborhood.  The rain splattered against my window.  The night was one of constant interruptions.  No real quality sleep, just lots of sleep deprived dreams of oddities.

Then without warning the floor moved.  It wasn’t a shaker.  It didn’t build to a crescendo and released its power.  It was as if the world’s table had been slammed into and then it was over.  It was enough of a jolt to induce a surprise.  As quickly as it came it was gone.

On my walk to the station I often pass through a temple on top of a hill.  The vividness of the green Japanese maple caught my eye, and I walked over the circular driveway to get a different vantage point.

I looked down into the claw pots that were filled with lotus leafs.  They too were incredibly green.  There were jewels floating on the gaps over the leaf’s veins.  I starred.  Did hail fall from the sky in the storm?  I was curious so I ever so gently poked the bobble with the tip of my umbrella, and it moved.  Not ice, but crystal clear water.

The walk through the temple always calms my nerves.  I take the time to look around to see what is blooming, greening, and fading away.

Rain, will bring flowers.  The earthquakes bring fear.  They all can be released though the passion of attempting to live life though artistic expression.