Emily in a rut

But still in Tokyo, post Hachijo Island and Izumo. Talking about personal taiko frustrations and giving journal entry vibes. Paris is no where in sight.

*Disclaimer: I am a native English speaker purely speaking about my own experiences. I’m excited that this substack has made international reach, but sometimes I use strange words and phrases. If you are reading this through AI translation, some ideas, words, and nuances may not be correct in your language. Please ask if you have any questions.*

*If you click on the photos directly on the substack website, you can see full photos. 

I’m quite behind. If you follow me on social media/ SNS you’ll see that I traveled to the 24 hour Hachijo Daiko Challenge and Izumo, one of the most spiritual areas in Japan. In an ideal world, I wouldn’t over think things and require 10 hours of drafts, edits, and research because I’m scared I might misinform you. An example of my commitment, I changed this substack 3x after it was posted, and I forgot to mention it earlier so go re-read it on the website (hehe).

ANYHOOBS, I will post about Hachijo and Izumo later this month, but I’m feeling a little lazy. Instead, I’d like to share a lil ol’ peak into my S.A.D. dark taiko soul. This is more like a journal entry to look at a secret I’m facing. 

Brief KEY

Bachi: Taiko drum stick

Izumo: Region in Shimane prefecture that’s considered to be the most spiritual

Hachijo Island: Island part of Tokyo prefecture about 1 hour away

Hachijo Daiko: Taiko on its side with 1 person playing a continous beat, and the other solo-ing.

Kaoly Asano: Creater and leader of Gocoo and Tawoo. Currently the one I’m studying under

Gocoo: The professional taiko band.

Tawoo: Dojo/ Taiko school of over 100 students.

Kumidaiko: Popularized group style of playing created in the 1950s in Japan. Often what you see in the West

I’ve lost my rhythm. I can’t hold a beat by myself. I can’t feel it on my own, but rather I have become reliant on the people I play with. For some folks, it doesn’t matter and it’s fine, but for me it’s embarrassing and frustrating.

Tawoo is filled with beautiful people who are supportive, kind, generous, and ready to dance and have fun. It’s great bliss to play the same thing with a mass of friends to the point where you can’t really hear mistakes. Although I present my most vulnerable self while displaying raw emotions on stage, I’m able to do so because I can’t hear myself.  I can’t identify what sound is mine. Hiding my sound is almost like walking through the streets of Tokyo blending into the crowd. It’s freeing to some points, but if you look closely, you can see I walk just a little differently. 

Tawoo rehearsal

In Chicago, I walked about 4 blocks from my garage to my apartment grasping onto various makeshift weapons. Sometimes pepper spray with a finger on the trigger or a key between my knuckles to throw a punch. The only weapon I had a sliver of confidence in was a bachi, the same bachi I used to gain applause with.

I’ve relaxed significantly since moving to Tokyo while walking in the dark by myself, yet I still can’t close the protective eyes on the back of my head. In a way, being alone meant being safe. It meant there wasn't a potential threat nearby. I could walk on either side of the street, and I could hear footsteps or cars easily. Yet, being alone also equates to a vulnerable place for an attack, thus the argument for surrounding yourself with a community, as trustworthy people can also bring safety.

Alright, I think it’s wild to metaphorically compare “losing my rhythm” and “safety” to collectivist Japan and individualist America. There are better examples that represent America (such as the desire to stand out, the loudest person gets what they want, thriving on competition), but I don’t want to talk about those things. As I used to worry about my safety, now, I worry about others’ real thoughts. Although Japanese people are incredibly kind, they may say things in passive ways to avoid hurting your feelings to avoid becoming a burden on you, but it would be nice to just know when and if I’m doing something wrong or offensive. Granted, this worry is much nicer than getting stuff stolen.

The 24 hour Hachijo Daiko festival took place on Hachijo Island on November 18th and 19th. I’ve had trouble playing this style of taiko because it’s about playing what’s on your mind, not impressing those around you. But perhaps after a year, I’ve gained my own frustrations, reflections, and realizations and have found peace and freedom with this style of taiko.

From 24 Hour Hachijo Daiko Challenge with some great people like Chris and Felipe.

I know I’m not playing it “right.” Eishin Yamashita roughly said during a workshop that there’s not a wrong way (of playing), but there is. Makes sense for a style that’s been around since the times of exiling samurai. Like with all taiko rooted with the history of the place, the rhythm and movement is particular and embodied by the people who live there. It’s so specific that the rhythms of the 5 regions of the island differ from each other, even though it’s the same pattern. BTW, the island is only 14 km long. I’ll never play it the “not wrong way” unless I move there. As I don’t, I play a bit tense, like someone who used to begrudgingly prep herself to use the bachi as a weapon. But hey, I’m working on it.

It’s important to acknowledge that this type of playing requires listening and connecting to the other person on the other side of the drum. So yes, it’s still not technically my beat, but rather a conversation with someone who’s willing to listen if you in return listen to the rhythm they give. And of course, you can’t hide from yourself if you’re the only one playing.

My Italian Taiko Friend Chiara said it very well, that the taiko Kaoly san created is the closest thing to ancient taiko meeting kumidaiko. It brings the ancestral spirits into a group style of playing. It allows you to play your feelings and be yourself, and invite other people in, which I think is similar to Hachijo Daiko. And it’s with both of these styles of playing, that I have found moments where I can stop worrying for a bit. It’s one of the reasons why I decided to extend my visa, however, I hope I can gain back my rhythm again.

Life Lesson #8: Be polite and respectful, but stop worrying about other people, and focus on yourself.

OH AND FOOD. Here’s a random smorgesborg of November:

Massive hakusai (cabbage) from Makisato, Mister Donut Pokemon themed treats, Kuri (chestnut) in the forest, Man cooking food (including rice) in bamboo at a Hyuga forest festival

That’s it!