Ueno Park

Ueno is a part of east Tokyo who's main attraction is the park - a change of pace from the exuberant consumerism that teems in much of Tokyo. The park is bespeckled with peaceful shrines and several museums, as well as camera-toting tourists such as myself.

This is the Saigo Takamori statue at the south entrance of the park, depicting a samurai warrior out for a leisurely stroll with his companion; proof positive that you can take your toy-sized dog for a walk while retaining your masculinity. Granted, having katana in tow makes for swift retaliation against insinuations of sissy-ness.

One cannot help but feel awash with peace and tranquility, if not misty perspiration, walking through this trove of spirituality and greenery. The smell of incense burning would normally bring to mind awkward memories of my freshman year at NYU (where its use was primarily to deodorize the room of the stench of beer-soaked carpeting and sex-soaked sheets, regrettably neither of which I can claim responsibility for), but in this place it is soothing and invites me to turn off my iPod and take in the scene.

Like the courtesy shower at a public pool, Shinto shrines are equipped with a small fountain outside meant for cleansing the spirit before entering. Unlike the courtesy shower, most people who know what it's for actually use it.

In addition to prayers, one can hang hopes, well-wishes and the like, outside on what strikes me as something akin to a spiritual inbox. I'd like to think these are all wishes for world peace, the end of suffering, or universal happiness, but clearly even spirits receive their fair share of spam. I briefly entertain the notion of posting my wish to find a box or two of dental floss (curiously absent in Tokyo), but think better of the idea.

Maybe I'm completely off the mark, but wasn't this type of vermilion gating the inspiration for the similarly colored eyesores put up in Central Park last year? I walk through half expecting to emerge in Columbus Circle, where I am sure I can obtain dental floss to my heart's desire.

A brief aside about floss. I was watching the World Cup with a Japanese friend when I decided to rid my teeth of an annoying fractal of the night's dinner. The look of confusion I got after I fashioned a few minty inches was indescribable. Forehead wrinkles deepened and eyes widened as I demonstrated its proper use. I found this incredibly surprising. First, for a country with an oral hygiene reputation that rivals the Brits, Japanese actually brush a lot. In fact, post-lunch brushing is a favorite activity in the hospital. Cleaning in general is something I've noticed is taken very seriously here; even the homeless do laundry. Second, I guess I just never expected flossing to be a culture-specific activity. Then again, naked public baths never made it across to America in any significant way.

Surrounded by so much history and culture, my camera begins to feel like a heavy chain of modernity around my shoulder, and a sure sign that I don't belong anywhere inside the temples. I decide against my usual choice of vanilla, opting instead for a green tea ice cream cone, instantly assured of my credibility.

Meditation is highly underrated, especially when it comes to religion. For all the time I spent at church, I didn't do much thinking about anything of great importance. During prayers, I would be thinking about what was being served for lunch. During sermons, I would be thinking about how to spend my lazy Sunday before The Simpsons and The X-Files. The one time I had to read the offering scripture, all I could think about was how embarassing it would be if I walked up to the podium with a full-on stiffy, and whether or not I could slyly hide it behind the Bible (not that anything at all about church was a sexual turn on, but I have a narcoleptic-like tendancy to fall asleep during dull oration, often waking up to find I have been visited by the morning wood fairy).

That being said, meditation is something I can wrap my head around. Instead of someone telling me what to think, or reading something from a book and being told to contemplate why it's right and how it relates to my life, I can just sit, quietly ponder, and draw my own conclusions. About life. The world. People. Happiness. Righteousness. Morality. And ironically, though with eyes closed, I'm far from sleepy.