, You will find...

I'm new to the blogging experience and the simple act of setting this one up (in all its minimal glory) took several days to pine over and a few hours for me to construct. I've decided to post a range of topics here, including, though not limited to: literature, writing, film, excerpts of my own creative work, daily thoughts and reflections of the above and any other miscellaneous things that I can make fit the paradigm in some way.

I suppose my inaugural blog should cover the name I chose for it. Hidden Beneath the Leaves is one loose English language translation for Hagakure, a book of anecdotal musings on the Japanese philosophy of Bushido collected over a period of several years by a young Samurai who frequently visited a much older of his contemporaries whom was by then living out the remainder of his life as a Buddhist priest in the quietude of a hermitage, enveloped by the sights and sounds of nature: rushing streams, the wind in the trees, the occasional prayers of a wandering monk, and the movement of his own mind. During these visits the young man was treated to stories and reflections from the life of the former Samurai, each person, place, opinion and event recounted a valuable and enlightening lesson. Knowing he was privy to something quite special, the young Samurai transcribed each meeting down on paper, and the resulting collection garnered a reputation as a modern (at the time at least) treatise on the way a warrior should think and behave, bordering a bit on the fanatical.

Sparing readers delving any farther into this origin story, I'd first like to point out that I'm not a warrior monk, and in no way wish to give rise to the "new warrior caste" in America or anywhere else in the world. That said, I'd secondly like to emphasize that the title implies that amid the rank and file of ordinary everyday things lies something very profound, hidden for us in plain sight and visible if we just stop, listen and take it all in. Decipherable In any idea, or work of art there is an answer, or ultimately some part of our own truth. Perhaps it suggests that in something as simple and commonplace as Autumn's falling leaves there is an innate and everlasting beauty. Perhaps in this seemingly humdrum bit of blog space, just one leaf amidst thousands there is something profound, thought provoking, witty, humorous and engaging to be read. Perhaps I continue to use this falling leaf metaphor because I live in New England and the cascading, multicolored foliage seems to be our trademark. Even now, in Summer you can glimpse them. Of course it's mostly in the form of old, soggy, brownish-gray rotting piles gumming up the storm drain, or sitting in the corner of your driveway because back in November, in addition to your own leaf fall, the leaves from EVERYONE of your neighbor's yards just seemed to magically hitch a ride on the brisk Fall winds and find their way to YOUR house. You are never done picking them up.

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Though really I think this metaphor serves as the window into something extraordinary; a place where our world intersects with a liminal one running parallel to our own, containing all elements fantastic, fascinating, and sometimes frightening. Most importantly though I feel it's where ideas come from. I became really attracted to this idea of liminality while learning about Irish folklore, and that attraction only grows with each work by Neil Gaiman I read. All topics I'll discuss in other posts, for this one has gone on long enough. As i become more adept at upkeep and maintenance I'll have more to post, and will eventually organize them into various headings. The page is a bit skeletal right now, and I'll have to do something to remedy that and give it a little more personality. That about wraps this one up. I look forward to posting, and to everyone's comments. Over and out.