letters to momo: how our loved ones provide more than happy memories

One of the comforts provided by faith and spirituality is the idea that our relatives remember us after they are gone. Regardless of what one might believe, this notion that the dead and living mutually remember, and look after, each other is just one way for the departed to survive beyond death, and lend comfort to those still here.  That interconnectivity forms the backbone for strong legacies and family bonding that persists for generations to come. After all, we memorialize them in our own lives, so is it much of a stretch to think they do the same in their afterlives?

Japan presents a somewhat unique “case study” when exploring notions relating to this idea. As a nation that has often been a nexus of converging cultures, it has developed numerous traditions and practices that reflect ideas related to the symbiotic nature of relations between the living and dead. Practices like ancestor veneration have been part of both native belief systems (like Shinto) and incorporated systems (like Buddhism), and have real bearing on the everyday lives of Japanese people. Shrines, prayers, and formal ideas of remembrance might seem (or be construed as) ritualized, but in reality are often “just another aspect” of keeping the departed in the daily lives of family members. We’ve seen plenty of anime where characters bow their heads and clap their hands, or make slightly formal gestures in the presence of spirits or memorials to ancestors, but those simple actions feed into a much larger idea of how spirits and humans interact with one another. 

advice and anniversaries - panels

I finally read Otaku Journalism: A Guide to Geek Reporting in the Digital Age, written by Lauren Orsini, thanks to a sale (that ended midnight 7/22). It's great. So are other books I have, written by writers that have already been there and telling you what's worked for them: from Critical Path: How to Review Videogames for a Living by Dan Amrich, to The Kick-Ass Writer: 1001 Ways to Write Great Fiction, Get Published, and Earn Your Audience by amazing author Chuck Wendig. No one will say that these writers don't know about their respective specialties. And these writers all share in their books what has worked for them, and very concrete steps to get from "I want to write about something I love" - to writing it, submitting it, editing, checking sources, ethics, resubmitting, try try again, etc.

But will what works for them work for you?

Not everyone learns the same way. Or dresses the same, etc.

Quite possibly, actually, given the writers I mentioned.

But not everyone is the same. As much as I would like to be on par with Wendig, I am not Chuck Wendig. I'm Kit. I'm not Amrich or Orsini or Hearne or King or anyone else. I'm not even Charles, or AJ. I can't draw. I might have things in common with them - I like Welcome to Night Vale, for example, and I obviously present on Japanese culture. But I'm not them. I'm just me.

Plus, if we were all the same, conventions, Twitter, DeviantArt, and emails would be pretty boring, wouldn't it? We wouldn't learn from each other. We wouldn't have anyone do artist commissions in a style we like; we wouldn't talk about changes in animation styles or art and we'd read the same 20 books and like the exact same foods the exact same way.

Sounds boring to me, at least. I like seeing differences in art styles. I like custard buns just as much as I like hamburgers. I like lagers as well as stouts as well as red wine. I like coffee AND tea. I like poetry, but I also like cyberpunk novels, or epic mythic novels, or novels set in a particular gaming franchise.

I'm all for learning. And if what I do, or what Charles does, inspires you: by all means. Learn. Do. Read. Present. Write.

But you're not us. And don't feel you have to be.

Lauren Orsini, to her credit, does mention this temptation to compare against people you admire; the writer who brings in a lot of pageviews, for example. Wendig also mentions it, albeit in a different fashion, about publishing and process. Basically, people don't read books or articles or want art commissions for the dry facts of things, or for a recording: they want to relate to it, they want to experience something, and that's where you or I come in.

Let's go; to the world of panels.

Otakon 2014 marks a decade since my first panel presentation, which debuted at Otakon 2004. Even with the support of the fandom community I was in - which, at the time, was based around the Megatokyo forums - I felt scared, alone, and nervous. And for years, I would only do one or two panels, at one or two conventions. Sometimes, due to time, but mostly due to expenses. I had graduate studies. Moves, both within the country and overseas. Toxic environments, in which I felt I had no transportation, no friends, and no family to support me even emotionally or mentally.

What I did, and why, may not be anything you have to worry about or want to do. That's fine. Do you learn best by practicing your presentations in front of a mirror? Great! Do it if it works for you. It doesn't work for me, and that's fine too. Did your first panel flop? Identify what you can change; but sometimes it's just unfortunate timing, or the audience didn't respond the way you might have wanted them to. If it's something you can change and improve on, great! If not, let it go.

It's hard advice to say, let alone take. Letting go is hard. Trying NOT to compare yourself against someone else - especially someone who has inspired you or you admire - takes time and effort. It won't happen overnight. But if you do panels, or write on a passion, and keep doing it... little by little, you'll realize that you do have something to say. That your own words are important, and people want to listen to them - because you'll pick up on a connection that they haven't, or that you can relate to certain experiences (cosplay? mecha? how animation gets made? technical detailing?). You'll make connections.

Connections that you, with your own experiences and background and interests, will pick up on. I'll pick up on different things, because I have my own experiences, and background and interests. In fact, this is one of the reasons why I'm glad to be writing on this site and helping Charles; we each see a little differently, we each have our interests and specialties. There are things I'll see or notice or catch, and things that he will spend hours and days learning more on.

Yes, anyone can learn how to do a panel.

But no one else can be you.

companion tales and fox tails

In panels like the Kill la Kill panel, we mention "otogizoshi" - fairy tales and fantastical stories of the Muromachi period of Japanese history and onward. Stories of the mysterious, just as often as they are stories of glory or of the ridiculous. These stories may have originated in the Muromachi period (roughly, 1337-1573 CE) but inspire more modern stories also.

Caster, from Fate/Extra.

My favorite story involves Tamamo-no-mae, the dangerous fox. Of course, there are differences in versions, but I will tell you some of her story.

guest post - back and forth media

As we at Study of Anime are either 1) getting back from ConnectiCon or 2) finally fixing their computer (and resetting files, programs, and all that tediousness), here's a guest post by Sid Motaghi, a recent graduate of The New School, where he studied Media Studies. You can find him on Twitter at @betatapeofpast also.

In Bolter and Grusin’s book, Remediation: Understanding New Media, they discuss the elements of immediacy through hypermediacy, transparency in digital media, and a double logic of remediation. Remediation as defined by the contemporary entertainment industry is a type of borrowing called “repurposing.” Such examples include: television can and does refashion itself to resemble the World Wide Web, and film can and does incorporate computer graphics into its form.

I say all this because the concept of repurposing can be applied to Japanese animation works, which seem to be in constant dialogue with works from other cultures (music, art, film, etc) - notably Western film. That is to say, Japanese animation (known as anime) and film, and Western animation and film, are influenced from each other.

wishing upon a star - tanabata

Wishing on a star is ancient. Certainly more ancient than Disney could ever hope for.

And of course wishing on a star happens in Japan also.

From Sakura Hostel Asakusa, in 2012.

Tanabata ( JP: 七夕 ) , also known as the Star Festival or the Festival of Sevens, was a festival borrowed from Chinese culture around the 8th century CE, and dedicated to two stars: the Weaver Star and the Cowherd Star. The Weaver was a princess of the heavenly king, who wove beautiful clothes by the bank of the Milky Way. However, she despaired at meeting anyone, because she was so lonely. The heavenly king realized her loneliness, and arranged her to meet the Cowherd, whose job it was to keep the celestial animals from wreaking havoc. The story goes, these two truly fell in love in the celestial court; the heavenly king, who had set it up in the first place, was pleased and agreed to the marriage, as long as the two did their work keeping everything in order. But so lost in love were they, that soon their duties were neglected.

As punishment, the king decreed that the two should separate, and placed the Milky Way between them: however, even he could not quench love completely, and so allowed them a chance. If their work was done, and the sky was clear, the Weaver and the Cowherd could see each other once a year around midsummer, crossing the Milky Way to spend time with each other once more. Tanabata is supposed to be that day: the seventh day of the seventh month.

The first time the couple met each other like this, though, they found the Milky Way still separated them and there was no way to cross. Despairing, the Weaver collapsed into tears; moved by her tears, a flock of magpies came and offered to create a bridge, using themselves and their wings to do so. The Weaver thanked them and the lovers could meet again.

However, it's said that if it rains on Tanabata, the magpies will not notice the Weaver's need, and not come to create the bridge. In that case, the lovers have to wait another year before they can meet.

It's a time of wishes and of love; the wishes made do not necessarily have to be romantic in nature. After all, this festival also celebrates determination and steadfast loyalty. So, any wish is okay. People sometimes write their wishes on paper streamers and hang them up, or display them, or (at the least) go to a shrine to write their wish. If the streamers are being hung up at a home or a school, the streamers are usually hung on branches of bamboo. Sometimes, instead of bamboo, it's sakaki (a sort of evergreen, often used in Shinto ceremonies), but of course, different places sometimes have their own variations! For example, because this festival originally used the lunar calendar (seventh month of the lunar calendar, that is), some places in Japan still celebrate Tanabata using the lunar calendar, even though Japan has switched to the Gregorian lunisolar calendar reckoning. For example, Sendai area holds the Tanabata festival this year from August 6-8.

7 kinds of paper decorations are made, ranging from paper cranes wishing for long life, to streamers for financial success, luck on exams, or even ornate decorations meant to emulate fishing nets.  Some cities decorate their shopping districts and shrines will be busy also.

So what would you wish for, if you could wish upon a star?

• Consulate-General of Japan (NY area) - Tanabata
• Sakura Hostel Asakusa (Tokyo)