Tsurumaru on the edge

in "RAN"

How I found Shakuhachi

by

Alcvin Takegawa Ramos

From as far as I can remember, I have been fascinated by its perfectly hollow structure and potential for usage as a plaything, a cup, a vessel, a flute. It was just such a beautiful plant to hold, see, and listen to. As a child I spent many an hour playing in the bamboo grove near my house; digging up roots and shoots to bring home and attempt to make something out of them. When I started school, I forgot about bamboo for many years. In high school I was once again reminded of my connection to the plant by a mysterious voice I heard while on my way to my part time job one evening: "Bamboo pupil, now you can rest". What an uncanny thing to hear in my head, I thought. The message slipped from my conscious memory almost immediately after I heard it. But it came back to me later that evening as I was writing in my journal. Bamboo pupil, now you can rest. Who was the bamboo pupil? Me? What have I to learn from bamboo? Who ever heard of bamboo being a pupil or even a teacher? If I was indeed the bamboo pupil, what cause do I have to rest? Rest from what? Perhaps confusion over a life path, or vocation? I was to learn later in amazement that in China, Japan, and Korea bamboo was actually regarded as a teacher, so to speak. Being the most useful plant in the history of humanity, from food to housing to medicine to clothing, to weapons, to musical instruments, it was one of the "three friends of winter" in oriental cosmology symbolizing strength, flexibility, resiliency and purity in living. The scholars of ancient China would often admire characteristics from the plant and animal worlds and apply them to human life as a source of inspriation and strength from the hardships of daily living. This was an intriguing concept for me at the time, being a 17 year old raised in a post-modern western, Judeo Christian-programmed society that generally regards nature as separate from human beings.

I pondered on the "bamboo pupil" for quite some time and felt quite relaxed in seeing bamboo as a metaphorical teacher. Soon after, I was to have the meaning illuminated when I watched the film "Ran" by Akira Kurosawa. It was in the scene where the blind hermit Tsurumaru, played by Nomura Mansai, exiled to a solitary shack in the wilderness, was playing a song so full of pathos and pain on a slender, horizontal, bamboo flute. That sound awakened in me something that seemed to be lying dormant. I rushed to the library to research all I could on Japanese bamboo flutes. As I read about the various bamboo flutes of Japan I came across the shakuhachi, for the first time. The pictures of these fascinating looking bamboo flutes and interesting history piqued my interest. Upon hearing the deep, husky tones of the flute on a CD by Goro Yamaguchi, I knew I was to learn this flute one day. The question was when? I knew of no teachers or connections to the shakuhachi world at that time, and thought how impossible it would be for me to play this most amazing instrument.

Although I was born in Japan (Kanagawa Prefecture, near Tokyo), my family moved to the States when I was about 6 so my recollection of living in Japan was quite weak. I have vague memories of walking about the house we lived in and the atmosphere of the crowded city, pachinko parlor noise, and the sound of cicada in the summer. And of course playing in the bamboo grove!

I was always fascinated and attracted by Japanese things and things of a religious and mystical nature. I was a great enthusiast of the avant garde dance form, Ankoku Butoh when I was in highschool. I attended all performances of the groups that occasionally came to town (Dai Rakuda Kan, Sankai Juku, etc.) and collected anything and everything I could about this fascinating dance form. In college my first major was dance as I wanted to study butoh. But as there were no teachers available to me at the time I lost interest being forced to study ballet, modern, and jazz dance which I found very tedious. My interest in martial arts led me to study Aikido which was a great door for me to experience a bit of traditional Japan culture directly, which felt totally natural to me. Philosophy was also of great interest with me which ultimately led me to major in the study of world religions which gave me perspective and meaning in life.

Musically, I studied classical piano in elementary and middle school school and trumpet in jr. high school. My biggest inspirations were players like Louis Armstrong, Miles Davis, Art Blakey, Charlie Parker. I also loved electronic music and played guitar immersing myself in groups like Propaganda, Dead Can Dance, Ryuichi Sakamoto, David Sylvian, The Cure, Cocteau Twins, Throwing Muses. Clan Of Xymox, Pink Floyd, Steve Roach, Brian Eno, Clause Shultze, Tangerine Dream, Vangelis, etc. The most important thing to me, however, was the atmosphere of sacredness that certain belief systems and musics created. Naturally I felt a strong attraction to Eastern religions such as Buddhism, Hinduism, Taosim, Shinto, Vedanta, etc. Many atmospheric rock groups from Europe also created a mysterious atmosphere I was seeking. I’ve always dreamed of being in an experimental rock band, but I guess I was too insecure and shy at the time.

In my last year of university, I met my first shakuhachi flute. My friends from Japanese language class met one Saturday afternoon at the apartment of, Richard Yang. Our fellow classmate, Gregory Havens, brought along a shakuhachi he owned to show me. Gregory lived in Japan for several years when he was younger and acquired the flute there. I tried blowing the shakuhachi, but since it was cracked badly, I couldn’t get a full sound. I asked to borrow it from Gregory but he declined as he felt pretty attached to the flute. Holding and gazing upon it I felt a very intuitive glance into a special world of magic and mystery.

Earlier that year on campus I attended a recruiting seminar for the Japan Exchange and Teaching Program, a new program implemented by the Japanese government to expose students all over Japan to native speakers of English. University graduates from all over the western world were recruited and flown to Japan and placed in schools all throughout Japan. One of the most interesting things about the process was that one had no choice where he or she was to be placed. You could request where you would like to go but there is no guarantee that you would be put there. It was all a mystery where you would be put. It had the smell of destiny and it immediately resonated with me. It was a perfect door into Japan which paid well and that I could experience the language and culture first hand. I applied. The interview process in Los Angeles was quite exciting. In a few months I heard back from the JET folks and was disappointed as I was put on a waiting list. I waited anxiously for their reply. Then in June I was overjoyed to hear that I was accepted! They sent me a colorful and attractve information packet about the place I was going to be living for the next year. The place in central Japan was Yamaguchi Prefecture in a small town called Yanai.

It was hard to describe the feeling of finally going to Japan on a cushion of support from the JET Program. I was entering into the beautiful mystery of my heart.

That whole time in my life was full of enjoyment and excitement for me. Graduating from University then preparing to spend the next several years in Japan. In early July, just before going to Japan, I attended a 10-day silent Vipassana retreat in the Mountains of Yosemite National Park in Northern California. It was an extremely profound, insightful,  beautiful, powerful experience that benefits me even to this day.

At the Los Angeles International Airport before departing for Japan, I wore a striped blue shirt, bleached jeans that I would never fit into today. My hair was short and spiked, and strapped to my waist was a JVC walkman with cassette tapes of Ryuichi Sakamoto, David Sylvian, Steve Roach and Robert Rich, and various atmospheric sound artists.

Upon arriving in Tokyo, Japan during that hot, humid, August summer of 1992 I couldn't help feeling an auspiciousness about this next chapter in my life. When we landed in Narita we picked up our bags then boarded a luxury bus where we were taken to our 5 star hotel. As the JET Program was supported by the Ministry of Education, we were treated very well. The sumptuous feast at the welcome dinner was unforgettable. It was perfectly catered in a buffet fashion with an array of goumet dishes that made me fill my plate to overflowing. I must've looked like I hadn't eaten for days!

The next day the JET participants who lived in remote parts of Japan were flown to their respective towns.

The town I was to spend the next couple of years teaching highschool English classes, was Yanai-shi in the prefecture of Yamaguchi, located in the western most part of the big island of Honshu. I quickly located a shakuhachi teacher, with the help of my supervisor, Matsuda-sensei, the head English teacher of Yanai High School. The feeling of elation was immense as I was realizing this dream of mine to study shakuhachi in Japan. My first shakuhachi teacher, Ogawa-san, lived at the edge of town and we scheduled a time to meet that first week. Matsuda sensei drove me to Ogawa-san’s home for our introductory meeting. Driving into the mountains, covered with lush, green bamboo; bathed in the deep, penetrating heat of the Japanese summer, we approached the house of Ogawa-san. The earthy smell of fermenting bamboo filled the room as Ogawa-san greeted us and invited us into his house. After our initial introductions, he led me to a table where there were several beautiful bamboo shakuhachi flutes of different sizes. lengths, clorations, and shades. He asked me to try the flutes to see which one I would like to play. I picked up the one that pleased my eye the most, a deep, red-black root piece. The bamboo was light and comfortable and fit nicely in my hands. I couldn't get a sound out of it for the first five or ten minutes; just struggling breaths. I was told it was the most difficult instrument to learn. That just whetted my appetite to learn even more. When I finally produced a tone, it was like an unearthing of a rare jewel. I was eager to take home the flute to dig up more of those precious tones on my own. Ogawa-san picked up his flute and began to play an enchanting folk piece. The sound penetrated deep within my soul and part of my mind opened up like a lotus flower emerging from the murky depths. I was very moved when Ogawa-san said he would teach me for free, as he said he was not a professional shakuhachi teacher.

Ogawa-san was a very humble and selfless person. He was about 67 years old and a carpenter by trade and his main interests outside of work were shakuhachi and stage magic. Although he had been studying shakuhachi for 40 years, he never became a professional shakuhachi teacher, but his spirit was very loving and kind which I will never forget.

I began lessons with Ogawa-san immediately and from there I was led into a beautiful new world of learning and joyful suffering. Religiously for two years every Friday night after work, I rode my little bicycle 20 minutes to the practice space and met Ogawa-san for shakuhachi lessons which he gave me in traditional manner. I spent countless hours in the seiza postion (sitting under our feet) upon tatami mats. Learning this new way of breathing to play shakuhachi caused me nearly to faint many times from lack of breath and pain from lack of blood to my feet and legs. At those moments, I would fall giggling to the tatami and trance out in a kind of high as the blood and oxygen surged back into my limbs. After 6 months of strenuous practice, struggling with the waves of pain, I got used to the breathing and sitting and began to enjoy the process of learning how to produce the fascinating sounds I so wanted to produce. The style of shakuhachi that Ogawa-san taught was the Tozan-ryu, the largest school in Japan. Later I was to discover other schools such as Kinko, Meian, Chikuho, and Watazumi-do. I was interested in learning about those too, but thought I should concentrate in learning the basics in this school before I do anything else. One of my shakuhachi friends in Yanai gave me a tape recording of Watazumi-do playing extremely long, raw flutes which interested my highly, but being locked in the Tozan guild, it was difficult to venture outside of the style.

In 1993 during a spring vacation, I took my first trip to Kyoto. I stayed at the home of one the daughters of one of my co-workers at school (Hirota-san). It was very convenient as her home was very close to downtown. Hirota-san gave me an art events paper advertising various performances downtown. I came across an ad of a foreign shakuhachi player having a concert at a temple. I definitely wanted to check that out. The player’s name was Christopher Yohmei Blasdel. The next day I took a trip into town in search of the venue of Christopher Blasdel’s performance. The day was overcast, brisk, and the air was charged with a fresh excitement. I somehow found the temple grounds which were enmeshed in a cloud of mist. When I arrived, there was no one there and I asked one of the temple attendants what was happening. He said I was early and that no one had arrived yet, so I strolled around the beautiful temple grounds admiring the exquisite architechture until the performers arrived. They pulled up in a van and took their instruments inside the main hall and set up upon a red cloth laid upon the tatami mat. Then people started to trickle in. Soon the hall was full. At 1:00 PM the show started and an MC announced the start of the performance. It was a wonderful show. I was struck by the strong presence of the players dressed in tradition Japanese kimon, noble and confident demeanors . This was the first time I saw a foreigner play shakuhachi. I was impressed by Christopher's fluid, refined technique as he played the classical pieces, Chidori no Kyoku, Rokudan no Shirabe, and the solo piece, Sokaku Reibo, describing the life cycle of cranes. I was learning at the time Chidori and Rokudan and I was very surprised at the great difference in playing styles between Christopher and Ogawa-sensei, my teacher. The gulf between an amateur and professional shakuhachi player is vast! After the show I went back stage and introduced myself to Christopher and we had a good rapport. We eventually became good friends and later on that year he mentioned a shakuhachi festival coming up in 1994 which would change my life forever.

I invited Christopher to give a lecture on shakuhachi and Japanese music at the Portopia Hotel in Kobe for the annual JET renewers conference that spring. I was very proud to have a shakuhachi master like Christopher share the Art with my fellow JET colleagues. 

At the end of my second year in Yanai-shi, I was transferred to a new school in a different part of the prefecture. Aio-cho was a very small city with a population of only 5000 people. I had to buy a car as everything was spread out and very far in that little town. Luckily my predecesor sold me her car for only 100,00 yen which is about $1000.00 US.  It was a white 1990 Nissan Sunny (Toyota Tercel in North America). My girlfriend, Sandra Chung (now my wife) was another JET teacher (from Canada) living in Fukuoka. Every Friday after school I drove two hours to Fukuoka to spend the weekend with Sandra. Then I would speed back to Aio-cho at 12:00 midnight on Sunday getting back with just enough time for a few hours of sleep before teaching Monday morning. I'm still amazed I never got into and accident or get a speeding ticket.

I found another shakuhachi teacher, Iccho Muramatsu, who lived in a neighboring city, Hofu-shi. He taught the kinko style of shakuhachi. With this new change in schools I also purchased a new bamboo flute from my Iccho Sensei who was also a maker of shakuhachi flutes. Learning to read the Kinko notation was also very interesting, and surprisingly wasn't too difficult. It was also my first time learning honkyoku and using longer flutes which excited me tremendously. The biggest change however was that I had to start paying for lessons. Ogawa-sensei never charged me for lessons so paying Iccho Sensei for lessons took time for me to get used to. I realized that this was standard procedure for all professional shakuhachi teachers. Later when I started teaching shakuhachi, I taught for free for two years to anyone who wanted to learn as my way of giving back for what Ogawa Sensei gave me. However when I received my shihan (teaching/performing license) and became a professional teacher, I had to start charging students for lessons as I had to make a living.

Iccho Sensei was also a professional shakuhachi maker so I got to learn about the craft of making shakuhachi which connected me back to my childhood when I used to spend time in the bamboo groves digging for bamboo roots. Iccho sensei took me bamboo harvesting for the first time which was a very beautiful and special experience for me. We got up early on Saturday and drove high into the hills of Hagi. Before going into the bamboo forest Iccho Sensei gave a bottle of sake to the landowners as an obligatory gift for harvesting bamboo from his land. We trekked up a steep embankment with a bag of tools strapped over our shoulders. Before piercing the ground with our pick and hammer, we prayed and offered a bottle of sake, nuts, and dried squid to respect the gods of the bamboo and earth. We spent the whole day digging out roots which was tiring but absolutely exhilarating.

After the bamboo is harvested, the roots are cut and cleaned then heated over hot coals to extract the oils. Then the stalks are placed out in the low winter sun for a few weeks. Then they're ready to be cured in the shade for several months to several years. Thus the complex process of transformation from a simple hollow tube into an instrument of beauty begins. From the placing of the five finger holes to the mouth piece insert and time-consuming and exacting process of bore construction takes several months, sometimes years, to complete.

Although I was learning lots of new and interesting things from Iccho Sensei, I was very frustrated with shakuhachi as I felt like I was getting nowhere. Although I didn't know what a good shakuhachi was at the time I instinctively knew my flute wasn't so good, and felt I could be learning from a better teacher.

In the summer of 1994 I attended the International Shakuhachi Festival in Bisei-cho, Okayama-ken, hosted by the great shakuhachi master, Katsuya Yokoyama. That was first time I met Yokoyama Sensei, David Wheeler, Riley Lee, John Kaizan Neptune, Lawrence Huff, Ray Brooks, Michael Gould, Anne Norman, Yoshikazu Iwamoto, Akikazu Nakamura, Teruo Furuya, Debbie Danbrook, Kaoru Kakizakai, Marco Lienhardt, Ronnie Seldin, Cory Sperry, and others. Upon hearing Yokoyama sensei and his students play, I was overwhelmed by the power and beauty of their playing styles and the deep sound of authentic Honkyoku! Although each person sounded different, there was a similar core sound that each one had. This was the sound I was looking for! The sound of my soul. In the next several years I was to study from various students of Yokoyama sensei (Ray Brooks, Marco Lienhardt, Yoshikazu Iwamoto, Akikazu Nakamura, Michael Gould) in Japan and in various parts of the world, and finally with the Yokoyama's direct disciples and himself in 1998.

In 1995, I completed the JET Programme. I spent an extra year in Fukuoka living with Sandra, practicing on my own, and waiting for Sandra to finish her JET contract . In 1996 we moved to Vancouver, and got married. There I hooked up with local shakuhachi master Takeo Yamashiro. Yamashiro became a mentor of sorts for me, and I spent the next few years in Vancouver, playing around town and making a name for myself as a promising young player with an open mind and a willingness to learn.

And then in the fall of 1998, I returned to Japan alone to again teach English, but this time at the corporate level. The company was the Tokyo Center for Language and Culture (TCLC) based out of Shibuya, Tokyo. This was the ideal way for me to continue my study of the shakuhachi under the direction of several world-class masters: Teruo Furuya, Kaoru Kakizakai, Yokoyama Katsuya, Atsuya Okuda. During that period I began to blossom as a musician and finally gained enough of a grounding in the instrument to begin delving deeper into what is a profoundly spiritual instrument.

Upon returning to the west, I've had much time to contemplate my experiences with the bamboo flute. Many years ago a mysterious voice spoke to me about the bamboo pupil. I still struggle with the quandry: Am I the bamboo or am I the pupil? I have yet to rest until I have learned all I can about what it has to teach me about myself.

Inspired by the International Shakuhachi Festivals and World Shakuahchi Festivals, I organized and successfully completed the first Vancouver Shakuhachi Festival in 2003 at the University of British Columbia. Establishing the Shakuhachi Society of BC and the Bamboo-In Shakuhachi Retreat center are dreams of mine come true. Every year we invite various masters of shakuahchi to come to Canada to do concerts and workshops and every year in November, I take students to Japan to partake in the most unique pilgrimage to harvest bamboo to make shakuhachi flutes with, to study at the foot of shakuhachi masters, and to meditate at various beautiful Zen Temples.

As my journey on the bamboo river continues, I am continuously energized by the mystery and surprises that each day brings. My passion for the shakuhachi impels me to share it with all who I come into contact with and constantly seek to help humanity with the blessings I have been granted. I am getting closer to understanding the lessons that bamboo has to teach. I can now indeed rest in the comfort that I have found my Path in life.