A Lark Ascends into the Bright Spring Sun | Naoyuki Agawa (Vice-President in charge of Shonan Fujisawa Campus)
2010.04.08
Spring has come. It is April. The cherry blossoms are in bloom, and the tree buds have appeared. The bare trees have taken on a faint color.
From the end of March to the beginning of April, Keio University is surprisingly busy. Several graduation ceremonies are held, followed by entrance ceremonies. Congratulations to you all. In addition, this week there was a ceremony for the 20th anniversary of SFC's founding. SFC has greeted its 21st spring.
As a Vice-President, I must attend many of these ceremonies, sitting on the stage facing forward. During that time, I can't chat or do other work. I'm not very good at it. So, in between the congratulatory speeches and addresses, I just observe the attendees. People with good posture, people with bad posture. Some are dozing off, and among them are some insolent ones who chat and laugh with their friends, heedless of the solemnity on stage. Next year, if I see anyone behaving too poorly, I think I'll jump down from the stage and reprimand them. Only when we all sing the Juku-ka at the end of the ceremony do I stand up, stretch, and sing out loud.
This spring, the weather has been somewhat unpredictable; for each ceremony, it has been warm or cold, with strong winds or light rain. Still, we were blessed with clear skies a few times, and the soft spring sun made the cherry blossom petals sparkle. Spring is the season when graduating students leave Keio and embark on new journeys. Spring is the season when new students begin their studies with various expectations. Spring is the most brilliant and wonderful season of the year, filled with youth, hope, and limitless possibilities. There is a famous poem by Tatsuji Miyoshi titled "On the Roof Tiles" (Ishi no Ue), which many of you students have probably read in your high school Japanese textbooks.
Ah, the petals flow
The petals flow to the young women
The young women walk, talking quietly
The sound of their bright footsteps flows into the sky
Occasionally raising their eyes
They pass through the temple's shadowless spring
The temple's roof tiles are moist with green
Under the eaves
The wind bells hang silent
Alone
I walk my own shadow over the paving stones
The enchantment I felt when I read this poem in my youth remains unchanged even now as old age approaches. Spring is good. Spring is beautiful. I want to travel to Yamato and visit the temples in the passing spring.
But the brilliant spring is also, at the same time, a little lonely. I was taught by my Japanese teacher during my Keio High School days that this is called *shunshū*, or spring melancholy.
In the gently shining spring sun, a lark soars high; yet my heart is sad, as I think my thoughts alone.
This poem by Ōtomo no Yakamochi, from the *Man'yōshū*, expresses this feeling well. It's not just Japanese poets. There was a song by Simon & Garfunkel called "April Come She Will."
April come she will
When streams are ripe and swelled with rain;
May, she will stay,
Resting in my arms again.
June, she'll change her tune,
In restless walks she'll prowl the night;
July, she will fly
And give no warning to her flight.
August, die she must,
The autumn winds blow chilly and cold;
September I'll remember
A love once new has now grown old.
In April, one falls in love, and in May, that love deepens. But in June, the girl changes her mind, and in July, she flies away. In August, a cold wind blows, and in September, only memories are left.
On March 23, after the university graduation ceremony, I left the reception with the 25th-anniversary alumni a little early and returned to Hiyoshi Commemorative Hall. The SFC commencement had begun. I sat to the side and watched. Only the SFC graduates remained in the hall, which had been full until just a moment ago, and as always, it was a fine ceremony. Mr. Murai took a commemorative photo of everyone from the stage. Laughter erupted.
While I was happy for everyone's graduation, at the same time I felt a little distant from SFC. Last spring, as dean, I was on the stage addressing the graduates. This spring, I am here on the side. A year has passed, and I have left. It's not that I'm disappointed or unhappy. The time comes to quietly leave the position of dean without anyone noticing. I remember writing that when I became dean. Before I knew it, that time had come and gone, just as I had thought. "Year after year, the people are different." Times change, and people change. Eventually, I will leave the school, and eventually, I will leave life itself.
On April 2, the day of the university entrance ceremony, a strong wind blew, but the next day, Saturday, was clear for the first time in a while. On this day, in a corner of the Yokohama Foreign General Cemetery in Yamate, the annual graveside gathering hosted by the Scidmore Cherry Blossom Society was held. In 1884 (Meiji 17), an American female journalist named Eliza Scidmore came to this port city to join her brother, who worked at the U.S. Consulate General in Yokohama. She traveled throughout Japan, wrote travelogues, and came to love the country and its people. She was also captivated by the cherry blossoms of Mukojima and later recommended to First Lady Helen Taft that cherry trees be planted in a new park on the banks of the Potomac River, gaining her approval. Upon learning of this, the Mayor of Tokyo, Yukio Ozaki, sent cherry tree saplings, which were planted on the banks of the Potomac in 1912 (Meiji 45) by Mrs. Taft, Viscountess Chinda (the wife of the Japanese Ambassador), and Eliza Scidmore, among others. The saplings took root, and the famous Washington, D.C. cherry blossoms were born.
Miss Scidmore later passed away in Switzerland in 1928 (Showa 3). The following year, a ceremony for the interment of her ashes was held at the cemetery in Yamate where her brother, who had died in Japan as a diplomat, was buried. It is said that the ceremony was attended by figures such as Inazo Nitobe, the Acting Minister for Foreign Affairs, the Acting U.S. Ambassador, former Ambassador to the U.S. Masanao Hanihara, and Mayor of Yokohama Chuichi Ariyoshi. And even today, people who admire Scidmore's achievements visit her grave in the Yamate Foreign Cemetery one day each spring. This is the origin of the graveside gathering.
This year again, about 30 people gathered before the grave. After a brief address from the chairman, each person offered flowers and sang the children's song "Sakura."
Sakura, sakura
In the fields, mountains, and villages
As far as the eye can see
Is it mist, or clouds?
Glowing in the morning sun
Sakura, sakura
In full bloom
Beside the grave stands a Somei-yoshino cherry tree, grown large from a sapling that came home from Washington about 20 years ago, its branches adorned with magnificent blossoms. A blue sky spreads above the people visiting the grave, above the cherry blossoms in full bloom. People with no direct connection to Miss Scidmore still remember this one American woman, who formed a bond with Japan, even now, 80 years after her death. She may not be in the grave, but Miss Scidmore lives on in people's memories.
Under Scidmore's cherry tree, feeling the warmth of the sunlight filtering through the trees and singing the song, I thought of the many springs that have passed and the many springs yet to come.
(Date of publication: 2010/04/08)