My Christmas Adventure, Concluded

Let's see, I left off last time with me facing a choice between continuing to ascend a technical, exposed, rock face, or returning whence I came by descending a technical, exposed, rock face.

If someone told me they'd try this climb in these shoes, I'd consider taking bets on their survival.

I notice there also very distinctive toeholds and handholds for climbing.  I'm just wishing I were harnessed in, because they are quite small, and often are just a single stone in this conglomerate rock.  Some of these stones turn out to be less than securely attached.  And, though I did not take the time to precisely measure it, I'd estimate is was a good 500-1000 foot drop from here to the valley below.  If I lean too far back (should I note that I'm also wearing a light backpack?), then if I'm lucky, they'll find my bones in the Spring. Now, I was not expecting a technical climb, much less a series of them, so I am wearing my regular walking shoes, and they are a bit worn:

For most purposes, as long as I am careful they are adequate for most hikes: I did climb Mount Fuji in these, after all, and the only complaint I had was the accumulation of cinder dust on the way down because they are slip-ons.  But, climbing shoes they are not, and I now am in a pickle.

It began with a series of ladder steps drilled into the rock face, and then transitions to a dual rope and chain above that.  Knowing the cost of returning the way I came: trying to descend that previous rock face, I decide the only reasonable course of action is to proceed upward.  So I climb again.  However, when I reach the break between the ladder and the rope, I find that the last foothold is not large enough for my shoe.  Not only would descending require figuring out the previous climb in reverse, I now would have to climb down this rock in reverse and unseeing, knowing that the bottom step is a very big one, and the ledge very short.  And the wind we saw earlier on the slopes of Mt Fuji is beginning to pick up here now, as well.

Just above the end of the rope ahead is tied a plate of metal so that each time I tug on the end, I hear the sound of metal clanging against rock.  It is the same sound you'll hear whenever an American Western movie shows its heroes approaching an abandoned ranch in the rocky desert.  And as every fan of such movies knows, that sound is the sound of pending death.

I did not take a photograph of that metal plate while clinging to that rock.

Again, yes, that is the trail; look for the rope

After waiting a few moments for the wind to calm, I started to chart out my route (another lesson learned from climbing in Boulder), because I did not want to find myself stopped in a precarious position unsure of the next foot or hand hold, with the clock ticking on how long I could maintain the current holds.  This was made rather difficult by the fact that I was staring into the afternoon Sun to do this.  I realized that although every climbing voice in my head was telling me to rely on my legs (your legs are much stronger and durable than your arms; just consider how long you can stand erect versus how long you can do a handstand or hang from a horizontal bar), I realized that the combinations of my poor equipment, the small footholds, and the locations of the overhead rope and chain, meant that the only option I had was to use my arms to pull myself over the first ledge, get my feet to my current eye level, where I could see another (solid) foothold, and then hope that the slightly gentler slope above that was enough to let me scout out the rest of the climb.  Fortunately, that plan worked (otherwise, you wouldn't be reading this), but there were no more decent foot or hand holds the rest of the way, though the slight easing of the slope meant I could use the rope and chain for leverage, rather than as my sole anchor point.  I was much relieved.

The sky shrine (Tenjin) for which the mountain is named.

Nevertheless, remembering my bouldering skills from my time in Boulder, CO, I skillfully (though slowly) ascend the rock, taking care to only advance when I was certain that my existing holds were secure.  After the initial vertical climb of about 10-15 feet, the slope eases a bit to about 60 degrees, and the climb is somewhat easier.

At the top, I saw where the "forest course (林間コース)" would have brought me.  It looks tame here, but I wonder how that adventure would have fared?  I'm beginning to worry about daylight, because I still have not yet reached the destination of this path, and the afternoon Sun is hanging low (and I am in the mountains, so I know that sunset comes early here).  Fortunately, I do not have far to go before I reach the next landmark, the peak of Mt. Tenjin (天神山, heaven spirit mountain).  This is an unassuming peak on which I decide to have lunch, before heading downhill less than a hundred meters to find a tiny shrine, about the size of a dog house.  I wonder if it is here for people to give thanks to the local kami for having survived the trail this far.  The shrine itself looks like it has been here a while, but the placard inside dates to just 2010.

Looking back from the top of 稚児落し

I continue on over hill and dell until I reach the main destination of this trail, an imposing rock outcropping.  But, as I do not yet see where the trail leads, I begin to convince myself that, surely, it will involve some ridiculous traverse across the midsection of this beast.  Luckily, it does not, but the wind is picking up, and I am amazed at how close to the edge of the drop the path continues.  In most places, if focus is lost, it would be easy to walk clean off the mountain in two or three steps.  I once went on a hike here in Japan under the light of the full moon.  I'm not confident I'd be willing to risk that here.  Still, I would like to see what this abyss looks like illuminated only by moonlight. 

The return trip descends rapidly, and I quickly find myself on a trail emptying out into someone's back yard.  The rest of the route takes me through the outlying districts of Otsuki, which I spend a little time exploring in the fading light.  Upon my return, however, I investigate the name of the place I had just visited and discover its dark origins.

The rock formation was called chigo-otoshi (稚児落し).  Google translate tells me this means "baby dropping."  And, checking each of the kanji individually makes it hard to dispute this. (稚) = Young; (児) = Child, (落) = Fall, while (落し) is translated as dropping.  I can only guess that this is a place where unwanted children were tossed to their deaths because the family thought them unsupportable.  And, considering the difficulty of the path, perhaps this place was chosen because you had to really, really want to be rid of a child to carry him or her through that obstacle course to be tossed from that sickening height.  I can't imagine wanting that badly to kill a child, to go through so much effort to deny another human being even the chance to make his or her own life choices, regardless of the difficulty of that life.

And it struck even deeper for me, because I had gone on this hike on Christmas Day, which celebrates the birth of a baby who was by legal definition at that time and place, unsupportable.  I imagined Mary and Joseph, immediately after the birth of Jesus, carrying him to this precipice and hurling him off because Jewish law at the time declared that such a child conceived out of wedlock was unclean.  I also thought about a close friend who lost a close friend to suicide this month.  And, about how I considered how easy it would be on this trail I was on for someone to take two or three steps and depart this life.  And, how easy it must seem for many who are struggling with their demons to take those few steps.  But also, how hard it must have been for them to have gotten to that point; the obstacles they had already overcome.

Though, perhaps another way to look at it is to recognize that all of life is little more than a series of challenges, some much more daunting than others, some coming upon us very unexpectedly.  Much as I had expected a challenging hike, but nothing like the bouldering exercise for which I was ill-equipped.  There were plenty of opportunities to turn back, or -- more darkly -- to step into the abyss, but we keep moving forward to see what challenges and rewards still await us and those we know and love.  In the end, it seems to come down to how you mentally approach each of these challenges.  Do we see prepare for them, or respond to them; do we see them as insurmountable barriers to our success, or challenges that make us stronger, or wiser?  Do we see adversity as a murderous mountain (as the beautiful but imposing view of Fuji-san at the beginning of my hike), or as a jovial challenge to become a better person (as the Winter Illumination art near Otsuki station at the end of my hike)?

My Christmas Adventure

As I mentioned in my previous post; I was feeling a bit glum around Christmastime this year.  So, I had determined to ignore the fact that the day was not a holiday here, and instead do some 森林浴
 (shinrin yoku, or "forest bathing") with a trek in the woods north of the little mountain town of Otsuki (大月, literally 'big moon' -- or 'big month,' I'll go with Moon).

A friend of mine had suggested the trail; I had been through the area a few times before, on my way to 富士山 (Mt. Fuji), so I expected a fun hike.  The weather was expected to be outstanding as well (for a hike, not for Christmas Day) with clear skies and an anticipated high of over 60 degrees Fahrenheit.

I got started a little later than I had hoped; but discovered a larger problem when I realized about halfway though my (nearly two-hour) train journey, that while I had remembered to pack food and water and a spare jacket, I had forgotten to pack the map showing the trail!  No problem, I thought.  I have my smartphone with GPS and maps, and since the Sun will be up, I'll always have a good point of reference.  What's the worst that could happen?  (Note to reader: if you ever find yourself saying or hearing or thinking this, just stop everything you are doing, and re-consider your life choices).

Mt. Iwatono from Ostuki Station

Having arrived at the station, I could not find a tourist or visitor center (that would have maps), but I did find some helpful maps on the walls of the station, so I photographed them and set on my way.  I began by climbing 岩殿山 (Mt. Iwatono: translates as "rock building" or "rock fort"), seen here (right) from near the station:

Fuji-san from Maruyama on the slopes of Iwatono

At the first overlook of the climb, I was already rewarded with this (below) view of 富士山.  Absolutely spectacular, even with the direct sun making contrasts poor.  I had hiked up 富士山 just this summer; I don't know whether it is true, but I've been told that more people die climbing 富士山 in Winter than those who successfully summit in Winter.  Looking at it from this distance, I can understand.  Continuous and steep snow fields that are clearly icy (based on the bright specular reflection on the eastern -- left-hand -- slope in the photo), and evidence of very strong winds both near the base and at the summit.

The summit of Iwatono-san

Onward and upward, I reached the grounds of a former temple (according to outside descriptions), which now appears to serve as a tour guide.  However, it is off-season and the office is closed.  Fortunately, there are maps available outside, and so I stock up on anything that looks as though it will show me the course I expect to follow.  I climb to the top along a fairly steep trail (I am soon to learn the true meaning of "steep," and this ain't it), reaching the summit of 634m (2080 feet).  Little did I suspect at the time that this visit to the highest point (right) on my planned route would be the easiest part of the journey.

The town of kamihamakura (上畑倉).

I descended quickly (is there any other way when the average grade is approaching 50%?) to the fork in the trail that took me along the loop trail that was my plan for the rest of the afternoon.  First, (see below photograph) I waited to hear this friendly Ent tell me the history of the People of the Valley.  Fortunately, it is not a very important history, so it did not take very long to say.  That town in the next valley is called Kamihamakura (上畑倉), which blandly translates as "upper warehouse."

Trail closed due to landslide

A few hundred meters along, the following sign tells me that the trail is out due to a recent landslide (photo below left).  Fortunately, a detour is provided... to just above the top of the landslide.  It has been dry recently, so this should be safe.  Up, over, down, and back on my way.  This is getting to be a fun little adventure.

Climbing gear required from here on?

But then I come across this (photo on right).  Now, I was told by my friend that this route was "interesting" for its rope-assisted trekking.  Well, here, I seemed to find it.  Turns out the rope was more useful as a crutch than as a support, as I was able to scramble up this climb quite readily without using the rope.  I suppose I would have relied on it more if I were descending.  But, if that is the worst that could happen (there it is again, life would be so much easier if it played the "dun-dun-dunnnnn" soundtrack of pending doom every time someone had that thought), then this hike will be a blast.

After some time along the ridge, I come to another fork in the road.  Here are my choices:

This time, I can read enough kanji to learn that the "forest route" (林間:left) is sending me down a slight slope (but really, just along the side of the mountain), while the クサリ場 (right), which seems to translate either as "cursory trail" or "squirrel trail" (my Japanese friends later tell me it means "chain route"), continues upward.  The forest trail has a rope for security; but it is not very taut, and the heavy blanket of fallen Autumn leaves makes it almost impossible to detect the vanishingly small trail that I assume exists parallel to the rope.  It is also several hundred feet down a very steep (in excess of 60 degrees) and wooded slope if I should lose contact with the ground.  As much as I'd like to continue my 森林浴 actually in the forest (森林), I decide to take the squirrel/chain route over the rocks.  What could possibly go wrong?

Yes, that is really the trail

This must be what my friend meant when he told me about the places where ropes were needed to continue on the trail.  If you look carefully, the photo on the right was from the top of the climb, so I successfully topped out over that small cliff.  Well, at least that's over with and now I can enjoy the rest of the trail peacefully.  Which is what I think until I reach the next vertical climb.

This climb begins with the traverse you see at left, is much longer than the previous, and whose top I cannot see from the base.  Holding on to the dual metal rails bolted into place as I traverse to the rock is not a problem, though I would have liked to have seen the view over the valley.  I reach the rock face, and there are again ropes, and now chains, making me wonder if I've just entered somebody's sick S&M fantasy world.  Glutton for punishment, I surely am.


You know, this post is getting rather long.  I think I'll break it up into two segments.

(How's that for a literal cliff hanger?) :-D

Christmas Reflection 2017

I've never done this before, and I can't promise that I will again; but this Christmas was far removed from the usual for me, and that may have played a role in what you're about to read.

Like many people, I was beginning to feel a bit glum during the run-up to Christmas.  Especially in the last few days.  For the first time ever, I was overseas on Christmas, in a country (Japan) that, although it celebrates the day, does not really celebrate Christmas.  For example, 25 December is not a holiday, I skipped work today to celebrate Christmas in my own little way (more on that in a later post).  And because I am overseas, for only the second time in my life I am not in my hometown visiting with friends and family on Christmas.  The first time, was the result of a blizzard in Colorado, and I was thankful to be stranded in my home rather than on a bus or in the airport, as very easily could have been the case.  This time, it was by work and by (difficult) choice.

So, I was already a little down when I went to a Christmas party with friends here on Saturday night.  Instead of lifting my spirits, I began to feel even more morose.  I thought I would be gathering with several people who, like me, missed their friends and family, but wanted to make the most of a difficult situation by holding a party.  But it seemed to me that nobody there gave a second thought for their families, whether they lived thousands of miles away, or a few train stations away.  In fact, in talking with many, they seemed almost relieved to be free of their families and would not have wanted to be anywhere else just then, as I wanted to be.  At least, that is how it seemed to me at the time.

I decided to go to Christmas Eve Vigil Mass in the evening at the Franciscan Center in Roppongi.  The Christmas Mass was a typical Christmas Eve Mass: many over-excited children, many people who are a little disoriented because this may be the only time of the year they see the inside of a church, standing room only (see previous).  Not that any of this truly bothered me: it's the most exciting night of the year for these children, even the most angelic would be fidgety in these circumstances; the people who had not been here since last Christmas, at least they are here today and maybe they'll be inspired to come back again next week and continue to strengthen their faith -- journeys of a thousand miles, single steps, and all that; and I had arrived 20 minutes before Mass began, so I at least had a seat!  ;-)  But, I think because it was so familiar, it had a deeper effect on me.  I felt both comforted by the familiarity, but pushed deeper into my malaise by the glaring omission of what had been so familiar for every other Christmas.  It was almost like I was living out the closing scene from "It's a Wonderful Life," but in a darker world: "This is what Christmas would be like without you... nothing has changed."

Then I heard the fellow sitting behind me telling his neighbor that he was a recent convert to Catholicism.  That he had met a young priest in Las Cruces, went to Mass the following Sunday, and then over the next few years decided to enroll in RCIA (Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults).  This caused my ears to prick up because I sometimes have business in Las Cruces (at New Mexico State University), and had been to the very parish he mentioned on several occasions.  Four thousand miles from home, and I'm now seated three feet away from someone who quite possibly heard the same Homily and Mass that I did a year ago when I last visited Las Cruces.  What are the odds?  Then, I notice another familiar face.  A NASA representative with whom I had finally formally met just three days prior after months of trying to line up schedules, walks by and says, "Hello."  I begin to wonder whether I have found the twilight zone.

The Christmas Mass is a joyful one, partly because of what we celebrate, but partly because we Catholics had just spent the previous four weeks in a Penitential Season preparing ourselves for this celebration.  Many exceptionally festive parts of the Mass are either skipped or subdued during that time, which makes them all the more noticeable when they return.  And, because of this, I am feeling a little better.  But I am also a people-watcher (by default, I can't help it), and I can see the children at Mass getting more and more antsy, and their parents bravely keeping them under control, but becoming more and more exasperated.  I hope none of the parents felt embarrassed, they were fighting a losing battle; I'm glad they found the strength to chose to fight that battle in public and partake of this Mass, rather than choose the easy path to stay home.

But then after Communion, something strange happens.  The little girl with the family seated next to me, who has been becoming increasingly animated throughout Mass, needs to fix her shoe.  She stops bouncing around, reaches up and grabs my hand to steady herself as she reaches with her other hand to re-seat her fluffy boot.  Her mother is very apologetic, but I don't mind.  This interaction causes me think about my niece who is about the same age.  And I feel that, just for a moment, that little girl invited me into her family.  Because, what is family, if not a group of people you can always count on to lend a hand?  And, a group of people who always seem to need a hand!

And that got me to thinking about what I think is one of the most beautiful doctrines of the Catholic Church: the Church Triumphant, Penitent, and Militant.  The first two are those in Heaven and in Purgatory, and all those here on Earth, struggling every day in battles against evil, are the Church Militant.  All three are part of the family that is the Church.  And, more importantly, the Church Militant truly means all of humanity, for while we may have some disagreements about what specifically constitutes evil, I think we all believe we are motivated to eliminate or minimize that evil.  That means everyone in this churchroom today is my family.  Everyone at that party the other night is my family.  Everyone here in Japan, even those who seem to completely miss the point of Christmas, they are my family.  The people you've been in a political tussle with, they are your family.  The jerk who just cut you off on the road is your family.  Even those we've "disowned," they are our family.  And, here I am, singing "Silent Night" on Christmas Eve, just as I would have been back home, with a group of people who, though imperfect like me, have chosen to be here, with the rest of their extended human family, for this hour, on this holy yet hectic night.  And, truly, I had to hold back a tear.

Of course, I still missed the family and friends back home whom I wanted to see.  But, I suddenly realized that even though I have never seen many of these people around me before in my life -- and maybe never will again -- I have a family with me here tonight.   From the little girl who reminded me of my niece, to my colleague with whom I may be working over the coming months, to the fellow from down the road, to hundreds of others from literally around the world.

And I think it was not just me feeling this connection.  I noticed that as the priest began the final blessing, he began to speak a few words to the congregation.  His voice broke as he could barely get his words out, "Thank you all for coming.  It is truly wonderful to see so many people here tonight to come to this church and celebrate this special night with us and each other."  He then was able to collect himself to add both jokingly and in all seriousness, "We do this every week; if you enjoyed this, please come and see us again next Sunday!"

A Republican's View on Climate Change

"The climate has changed and is still changing.  It has changed even within the last half century."

It did not take long after the onset of the Industrial Revolution for people to begin to notice that it was possible for human activity to have a deleterious effect on the environment.  This week, President Donald Trump signed two new executive orders focused on the issue of Climate Change an Environmental Protection, mostly rolling back regulations put into place by executive orders enacted by his predecessor, Barack Obama.  Having read the new Executive Orders, I felt it was necessary to elucidate a Republican's view of Climate Change.  In the following, I quote a prominent Republican's comments on the topic.

"There are of course two kinds of natural resources.  One is the kind which can only be used as a process of exhaustion; this is true of mines, natural oil and gas wells, and the like.  The other, and of course ultimately by far the most important, includes the resources which can be improved in the process of wise use; the soil, the rivers, and the forests come under this head.  Any really civilized nation will so use all of these great national assets that the nation will have their benefit in the future....  So we should leave our national domain to our children, increased in value and not worn out."

One can readily see that the speaker is referring to renewable resources, and from the description given, it is clear that the speaker would agree that the term "the environment" would suitably describe the phrase, "the soil, the rivers, and the forests" quite tidily.  So, in the subsequent quotes, I make a substitution of the more general word "environment" whenever the word "forest," or "river," or "waterway" is used in the original.

"Shortsighted persons, or persons blinded to the future by desire to make money in every way out of the present, sometimes speak as if no great damage would be done by the reckless destruction of our [environment].  It is difficult to have patience with the arguments of these persons.  Thanks to our own recklessness in the use of our splendid [environment] ... no measures that we now take can, at least for many years, undo the mischief that has already been done.  But we can prevent further mischief being done; and it would be in the highest degree reprehensible to let any consideration of temporary convenience or temporary cost interfere with such action."

It was already abundantly clear in the heart of the Industrial Age that any effort at preserving the environment and its resources must necessarily require a curtailment of economic output.  Similarly, any increase in economic activity must necessarily put a strain on the environment and its resources.  It was clear that balancing these two forces was essential to maintaining progress as a nation both in moral and ethical terms as well as in the form of an emerging world economic power.  The opening (Section 1) of the recent Executive Order acknowledges this:

"It is in the national interest to promote clean and safe development of our Nation's vast energy resources, while at the same time avoiding regulatory burdens that unnecessarily encumber energy production, constrain economic growth, and prevent job creation.  Moreover, the prudent development of these natural resources is essential to ensuring the Nation's geopolitical security.

It is further in the national interest to ensure that the Nation's electricity is affordable, reliable, safe, secure, and clean, and that it can be produced from coal, natural gas, nuclear material, flowing water, and other domestic sources, including renewable sources.

Accordingly, it is the policy of the United States that executive departments and agencies (agencies) immediately review existing regulations that potentially burden the development or use of domestically produced energy resources and appropriately suspend, revise, or rescind those that unduly burden the development of domestic energy resources beyond the degree necessary to protect the public interest or otherwise comply with the law.

It further is the policy of the United States that, to the extent permitted by law, all agencies should take appropriate actions to promote clean air and clean water for the American people, while also respecting the proper roles of the Congress and the States concerning these matters in our constitutional republic.

It is also the policy of the United States that necessary and appropriate environmental regulations comply with the law, are of greater benefit than cost, when permissible, achieve environmental improvements for the American people, and are developed through transparent processes that employ the best available peer-reviewed science and economics."

This opening succinctly describes this balance that must be achieved between resource preservation, the use or resources, and the regulatory activity that does the balancing. The Executive Order then goes on to rescind a number of recent Climate Change Executive Orders that were written to perform such regulation.  However, there is no instruction of a new regulation to leave in place of what was removed.

"In the total absence of regulation of the matter in the interest of the whole people, each small group is inevitably pushed into a policy of destruction which can not afford to take thought for the morrow.  This is just one of those matters which it is fatal to leave to unsupervised individual control.  The [environment] can only be protected by the State, by the Nation; and even the liberty of action of individuals must be conditioned upon what the State or Nation determines to be necessary for the common safety.... Nothing should be permitted to stand in the way of the preservation of the [environment], and it is criminal to permit individuals to purchase a little gain for themselves though the destruction of [the environment] when its destruction is fatal to the well-being of the whole country in the future."

But, as I mentioned above, a balance must be achieved.  Just as it is criminal to allow unregulated exploitation of our national treasure of resources and the environment, so it is equally criminal to, in the name of environmentalism, so restrict the access and consumption of these resources as to throttle the technological and economical progress of the nation.  At the time that the speaker from whom I am drawing was alive, one of the primary corporations exploiting the country's reservoir of natural resources was the railroad industry.  Today, we might envision the various fossil fuel distributors.

"It is hard to say whether most damage to the country at large would come from entire failure on the part of the public to supervise and control the actions of the great corporations, or from the exercise of necessary governmental power in a way which would do injustice and wrong to the corporations....  The opposition to Government control of these great corporations makes its most effective effort in the shape of an appeal to the old doctrine of State's rights.  Of course, there are many sincere [people] who now believe in unrestricted individualism in business, just as there were formerly many sincere [people] who believed in slavery -- that is, in the unrestricted right of an individual to own another individual.... The truth is that we who believe in this movement of asserting and exercising a genuine control, in the public interest, over these great corporations have to contend against two sets of enemies, who, though nominally opposed to one another, are really allies in preventing a proper solution of the problem.  There are first the big corporation[s], and the extreme individualists... who genuinely believe in utterly unregulated business...; and, second, [those] who, being blind to the economic movements of the day, believe in a movement of repression rather than of regulation of corporations."

Who is the Republican from whom I have been drawing these quotes?  None other than the 26th President of the United States, Theodore Roosevelt.  This, once upon a time, was the Republican stance on the environment, corporations, and governmental regulation.  I believe there are still today conservatives from this mold who recognize that the ideal path forward lies in the balancing of resource utilization, environmental protection, and governmental regulation.  Whether they can be found in the Republican Party, or among moderate Democrats, or elsewhere, I do not know.  But Roosevelt's vision as he helped lay the groundwork for the founding of the National Parks Service, and for the regulation of corporations that had individually failed to act in the interest of the public, included the understanding that the demands of progress must be balanced against the need to preserve our environment.

In Roosevelt's day, the scientific evidence showed clearly that deforestation was having severe deleterious effects on the environment, and that allowing current trends to continue would be disastrous for both the country and the world.  The magnitude of the damage was debated, but for the scientists studying the problem, it was clear that something had to be done in order to ensure a more equitable and moral use of the world's resources.  The situation is identical today with regard to climate change.  That increased carbon emissions lead to increases in global average temperature and can lead to significant deviations from "normal" climate behavior is established as clearly in the scientific data record as any such statement can be.  Because the climate is such a complicated system there remains significant uncertainty in the magnitude and the manner of the changes that can be expected in each region; but that changes are occurring and that these changes are due to human influence can no longer be denied.  Except perhaps for those who, like the slave owners of a sesquicentennial ago, could not see beyond the horizon of reason imposed by their world view.  We as a society are too intelligent for the question of today to be "should we respond to climate change," but rather "how do we respond to climate change?"  I'll close with a final quote from Theodore Roosevelt:

"We have become great in a material sense because of the lavish use of our resources, and we have just reason to be proud of our growth. But the time has come to inquire seriously what will happen when our forests are gone, when the coal, the iron, the oil, and the gas are exhausted, when the soils shall have been still further impoverished and washed into the streams, polluting the rivers, denuding the fields, and obstructing navigation. These questions do not relate only to the next century or to the next generation. One distinguishing characteristic of really civilized [people] is foresight; we have to, as a nation, exercise foresight for this nation in the future; and if we do not exercise that foresight, dark will be the future! We should exercise foresight now."

100 years later, and we are still hoping to exercise such foresight.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Cited articles:

• President Theodore Roosevelt, "Eighth Annual Message," December 8, 1908. Online by Gerhard Peters and John T. Woolley, The American Presidency Project. http://www.presidency.ucsb.edu/ws/?pid=29549.
• All quotes except for the Executive order and the final quote are from this speech, essentially a State of the Union speech.
• President Theodore Roosevelt, "Conservation as a National Duty." (1908 May 13), Online at Voices of Democracy: The U.S. Oratory Project.
• The final quote is from this speech, given at the opening of Yellowstone National Park. 
• Executive Order—Promoting Energy Independence and Economic Growth
• Signed 2017 March 28 

Self-Deception

I read an interesting article in National Geographic Online this week.  Although it breaks the rule of persuasive psychology to do this, I'll invite you to read the article before I comment on it: How Fake News Tricks Your Brain.

Now, as I said, I found this to be a very interesting article, and containing some extremely valuable information.  But, I think also that the same trap that the author is trying to alert the readers to has captured the author.

The thesis presented is that "Fake News" succeeds because we rely on our intuition when we read and evaluate new information, rather than applying critical thinking and reason.  In this, I agree with the author.  But, let's consider the example posed in the opening of that article:

How many animals of each kind did Moses put on the ark?

If you answered two, then congratulations: You’re wrong. It wasn’t Moses who put animals on the ark; it was Noah. As science has it, this question and others like it illustrate more than just a person’s general confusion between two historic religious figures.

Here, the author makes the same mistake that is being criticized: namely, relying on what is "known," rather than checking the relevant facts.  The Biblical story so quoted actually says that Noah placed differing numbers of animals on the ark, according to their state of "cleanliness" by Jewish tradition.  This, despite that it is "common knowledge" that "Noah led the animals onto the Ark two-by-two."

Now, I do not say this to criticize the author's reading comprehension; in fact, I misread the opening question myself.  I assumed I knew what was being asked when my eyes scanned the words "animals" and "ark."  But, it does suggest that perhaps we do ourselves an injustice when we assume that this tendency to be misled by Fake News is something that only the unenlightened "other" half suffers from; rather than a shared human psychological trait that affects 100% of the population.

Following this introduction to the problem, Petri then provides an excellent sequence of summaries of studies performed during the last several decades that show how fungible both our knowledge base and our assessment of it is for humans.  However, the author misses the one common thread that runs through each of these studies: The reliance upon authority rather than critical analysis.  In each case that is presented, the subjects in the study are found to have greater confidence in their knowledge whenever an authority provides them with a reason (or excuse) to believe what they are told.

In the New Yorker article by Kolbert that is cited by Petri, the subjects of a test who were told that they were correct in their perceptions regarding the veracity of suicide notes self-assessed their perception to be statistically significantly higher than those who were told they were incorrect -- despite the fact that both groups demonstrated similar acuity.

In Petri's article, a study is related in which test subjects are given nonsense information.  Some individuals are told that the nonsense information they have received is confirmed by scientists, while others are told that the information is not fully understood by scientists.  Those told that the nonsense was sound had more confidence in their understanding of the nonsense than those who were told it was uncertain.

Finally, returning to Kolbert's New Yorker article, a study in which individuals, confronted with their own lack of insight into a problem or situation when they were asked to describe it in detail, were more willing to acknowledge their own ignorance.  They no longer had an authority source to rely upon.  And so their ability to move forward intellectually and learn this new problem or situation was enhanced.

That is the lesson here, and it is both universal and bipartisan.  Both the article by Petri and the article by Kolbert make the same point, though in slightly different ways -- and despite failing to notice that they make this point.  Psychology has shown us that our brains are conditioned to seek agreement with our own "in" group.  It is far easier to appeal to an authority, whether that is Science, or Religion, or your favorite politician, or news commentary personality, than it is to develop one's own understanding and arguments. 

This is not to say that the authority is necessarily wrong; but rather that it is important to acknowledge the possibility that either the argument of the authority, or one's understanding of that argument, could be imperfect or incomplete.  And by taking upon oneself the role of active analyst and critic of an argument -- especially one that is agreed with -- one confronts what one does and does not know, and so grows both intellectually and personally.  This growth rarely seems to happen today as people tend to spend most of their time inside their own personal echo chambers discussing topics with their similarly-minded "in" group members.  This also leads to a more tribal way of thinking in which criticisms of the "in" group are seen as attacks rather than opportunities for growth.

As a scientist, what is the lesson?  On the one hand, it feels pretty nice to be considered an authority figure upon which basis some people will formulate their opinions.  But, at the same time, I would feel quite empty if all that people are doing is parroting what I say because I have the right job title and experience.  Many people fell (and continue to fall) victim to the debunked Vaccine-Autism link (which was presented by a scientist, though one using shoddy inductive reasoning and poor assessment of uncertainties) because they were unable or unwilling to critically assess the study.  To consider another topic with better scientific grounding, how many proponents of climate change science truly have critically assessed those arguments?  Are we to assume that proponents of anthropogenic climate change are necessarily more critically savvy just because they believe us as scientists?  If we do, then we are failing both them and our profession.

Science is a vocation that is born of and borne by uncertainty.  We are paid to explore and elucidate what is unknown.  When we report our findings, we must be clear about what is known and what is uncertain.  If we are not, the we are just as guilty of spreading "Fake News."

Cited articles:
Alexandara E. Petri, "How Fake News Tricks Your Brain", National Geographic. 2017 Mar 24.
Elizabeth Kolbert, "Why Facts Don't Change Our Minds", The New Yorker. 2017 Feb 27.

The season of rebirth

The Vernal (Spring) Equinox occurred this past week.  It is one of only two days in the year when every single point on the Earth has the opportunity to see the Sun (assuming clear skies).  Here in Japan, it is a National Holiday, called 春分の日 (pronounced: shoon-boon no hee). 

Cultures all over the northern hemisphere tend to view this as a season of rebirth.  And, for good reason.  From this day for the next six months, daylight hours will be more numerous than darkness hours in the northern hemisphere.  In Persian, Arabic, and Turkish countries, Nowruz is celebrated.  Though associated with Biblical and historical events, the Jewish feast of Passover (celebrating the rebirth of the nation of Israel as they emerged from Egypt), and the Christian feast of Easter (celebrating the resurrection of Jesus after death by crucifixion) are located in this season of rebirth.   

An early-blooming cherry tree near Shinjuku

The Roman calendar year originally began with March (note that October, the eighth -- octo -- month, is the tenth month in the modern calendar, but is the eighth month following March).  The fiscal year of the United Kingdom retains this memory.  For a time, the Christian world celebrated the opening of the new year on 25 March.  Those doing the math in your head will recognize that this is precisely nine months before the date traditionally chosen to celebrate the birth of Jesus; in fact the Church celebrates the Annunciation on this date (today, as it turns out).  In other words, the year began when Jesus was conceived in the womb.  Today, the UK fiscal year begins on 6 April because in the 16th Century, Pope Gregory and the Catholic Church recognized by studying the positions of the Sun and the stars that the year was not exactly 365 days long as Julius Caesar had decreed, and added 12 days to the calendar, and changed the rules for the leap year so that 29 February would no longer exist in century-ending years such as 1700, 1800, 1900, that are not divisible by 400.

Here in Japan, the start of Spring truly is a rebirth.  For the last several weeks, many flowers have been beginning to bloom, and some trees.  But the true showcase of Japan is the sakura (桜), the cherry blossom.  When they open up, the entire country, it seems, embarks on a trek to find the perfect cherry blossom.  Just this week, on Tuesday, the Japan Meteorological Agency declared sakura season open; 24 hours later, the cherry tree on the JAXA/ISAS Sagamihara campus displayed its first blooms.  Many colleagues will be arriving for meetings in the next two weeks (I wonder why so many foreigners were invited to Japan at this particular time of the year 😄); I hope that the sakura survive long enough to show off for the visitors!

The Drunk Monk: Prince of Tides?

Continuing, and concluding, the series of posts discussing the recently discovered Trappist-1 planetary system.  If you landed here out of sequence, the prior posts are: The Drunk Monk and the Seven Novitiates, and The Drunk Monk and Resonance.

Notice how we always see the same side of the Moon, no matter what day or time of day we see it?  This has come about due to the action of the Tidal Force between the Earth and the Moon.  Tidal force is just the difference between the force of gravity on opposite sides of an object.  Now, you standing on the surface of the Earth do not notice much of a difference between the pull of gravity on your feet compared with your head.  But a planet is much larger, and these forces can make a difference.  These Tidal Forces tend to align a planet so that the most dense part of its surface faces either directly at its parent body, or directly away.  Over billions of years, Tidal Forces have acted on the Moon to cause its rotation to match its orbital motion.  More slowly, the Moon has been acting to slow the Earth's rotation so that it matches.

Each of the planets of the Trappist-1 system will most probably already have slowed their rotation rates to match their orbital period.  So, each one keeps one face to its star at all times, and one face in darkness.  But, if the orbit of the planet is not a perfect circle, then there are times when it is moving faster or slower around its star.  As a result, sometimes the planet's rotation gets ahead, and sometimes it falls behind.  This happens for the Moon orbiting the Earth, but you need to be a very careful observer to notice it.  One way is by taking photographs of the Moon on every night it can be seen, and combine them into a movie, like this one by NASA.  This apparent motion of the Moon is called Libration (not libation, though that would be appropriate for this post).

Now, if we put all of this together, we have planets that are providing little tugs on each other at regular times in their orbits.  These tugs increase the energy of the orbit.  An increase in the energy of an orbit means it becomes more eccentric or elongated.  The larger eccentricity means that the orbital period doesn't exactly match the rotational period.  This mismatch means that the Tidal Force of the star acting on the planet is doing work to reshape the planet, in order to make its unevenness align with the line between the planet and star.  These small motions on a planetary scale build up a lot of essentially frictional energy.  This friction warms the interior of the planet the same way fraction warms your hands when you rub them together.  But, this is happening again and again and again, once every few days for possibly billions of years.  That is a ton of heat that is accumulated in the interior of the planet.  Eventually, it has to come out.  In most cases, this happens when the internal pressures and temperatures become large enough to cause volcanic eruptions on the surface.  For example, Io, a moon orbiting Jupiter under similar stresses, experiences so much volcanism that every part of the entire surface we can see today was produced in the last 100 years.

What we know of the orbits of the Trappist-1 planets strongly suggest that a similar phenomenon could be occurring there.  However, large uncertainties in the measured parameters still remain.  For example, the team could only estimate an upper limit to the eccentricities.  The closer they are to zero, the less the internal heating per interaction.  The masses of the planets are still highly uncertain.  If they are much less massive than currently estimated, then the resonance interactions will be less significant.

We are a very long way from being able to say whether or not it is even possible for life to exist on these planets, let alone whether it does.  We haven't even discussed the role of an atmosphere (because none of the observations yet made can tell one way or another on that question), which makes a huge difference in the habitability of a planet (compare Earth and Venus, for example).  But it is certain that with Trappist-1 -- as with every new and unique star, planet, or planetary system that we are able to study -- we will learn a lot more about how these processes work by studying them over a large range of parameters, especially in situations that, as in the case of Trappist-1, are so alien to our previous experience.

The Drunk Monk and Resonance

In my previous post, I mentioned that Orbital Resonance has the potential to make the planets in the Trappist-1 system highly geologically active by means of Tidal Heating.  I said I would explain in more detail.  First, I'll describe what I mean by Orbital Resonance; in the next post, I'll describe what I mean by Tidal Heating.

Imagine you are at the park with your niece, nephew, or interactive android, on the swings; but he, she, or it, hasn't yet figured out how to "make it work," and asks you for help getting moving.  Now, you could get off your swing and then push your partner firmly, repeatedly, and at random intervals.  But, even if he were able to remain seated in the swing despite this physical onslaught, any onlookers might consider calling the police to report child abuse (even if you were doing this to the android; especially if it looked like this).

Instead, you would offer your niece a push, then then wait until an appropriate moment to apply a second push, and then a third, and so on.  But, how do you know when is the ideal moment?  If you pushed her only once, and then stood back to observe the results, then you'd watch her swing forward ... and then back ... and then forward ... and then back again, and so on.  If you timed how long it took her to swing out and back, you'd find that no matter how strong your initial push, or how long you waited through numerous swingings, this time would be the same.  But, don't observe too long before offering another push: children can be very demanding, and it might be better that they are not aware that you are conducting scientific experiments using them as test subjects.

If you timed your pushes to occur at the same point in the oscillation (and in the same direction), then you would be matching your "forcing" (the pushes) to the natural frequency of the swing.  As you did so, you'd find your nephew flying higher and higher.  You are giving him more and more "swing energy," much to his delight.  This is called "Forcing at the Resonant Frequency."

If instead, you and your niece are planets orbiting a star, then the pulls and pushes are dictated by gravity, rather than your whim.  Whenever planets are at the closest point to each other in their orbits around their parent star, then they are tugging on each other more strongly than at any other time during their orbits.  These tugs can even change the orbits of the planets; it is these very changes that the team studying Trappist-1 used to determine how massive those planets were.  If these tugs happen randomly, then the situation is like the first one above, and the planets remain stably where they are.  However, if the orbits of the planets line up so that they always arrive on the same side of their star at the same time, then the orbits of the planets are now being "Forced at their Resonant Frequency."  If the periods of the two orbits are integer multiples of each other (2 days and 4 days; or  6.3 days and 12.6 days; etc.), then every time they reach the same point in their orbit -- just like your nephew reaching the same point in his swing -- they get a little push from a friend. This is Orbital Resonance.

What does this have to do with heating up a planet's insides and making it volcanically active?  For that, we'll need to discuss Tidal Forces, which I'll do in my next post.

The Drunk Monk and the Seven Novitiates

Last week, NASA announced the discovery of seven(!) planets orbiting a relatively nearby (40 light years away) and very small (about the size of Jupiter) star.  The system was called TRAPPIST-1, after a Belgian telescope that first discovered the system in 2016, and that was itself named for (or, rather, acronymed to honor) the Belgian style of brewing made famous by the sect of Benedictine Monks called Trappists.  Because this is such an interesting discovery, I want to take a temporry detour form my previous post to talk about this.

Not only were seven (well, a minimum of six) planets discovered in the system, but all of them have diameters very similar to Earth's.  Furthermore, because the planets' orbits are so close together, their masses can be estimated by measuring the effect each has on the others' orbits.  The team found that the masses of these planets also were very similar to Earth.  This implies they have similar densities, which means they are likely made up of roughly the same bulk materials (i.e., are probably rocky bodies with dense inner cores and probably a small but not negligible amount of water).  That is, they are probably not big gas giants like Jupiter, they are bodies that likely have solid surfaces.

However, the method the team used to measure the mass is prone to large uncertainties.  A similar technique was used to infer the existence of Pluto before it was discovered, and to estimate its mass after it was discovered.  Most of the headlines surrounding Clyde Tombaugh's discovery of Pluto in 1931 report the discovery of a planet "bigger than Earth."  In fact, the New York Times, possibly referring to a -- by then outdated -- pre-discovery estimate of its mass, reported that it "may be bigger than Jupiter."  Over time, the measurements improved, and the likely mass of Pluto became smaller and smaller.  As the New Horizons spacecraft sped toward the planet in the early 21st Century, one astronomer even went so far as to jokingly suggest that the trend indicated that Pluto might entirely disappear by the time the spacecraft arrived!  In the case of the Trappist-1 planets, these uncertainties mean that three of the planets could actually be smaller than Mars; two of the planets could actually be twice as massive as the Earth.  Such large variations in basic properties will have tremendous effects on the types of planets these truly are, and how likely they might be able to support life.

Part of the reason for the uncertainty in the masses of these planets is the inability to continuously monitor them.  They are very faint, and only a handful of powerful telescopes can detect them.  There is much competition to obtain time on these telescopes.  So, the team had to make do with short observations taken a few days at a time, spread over many months, and then piece those observations together to find any repetitions of changes in the observed stellar brightness that would indicate planetary motion.  When it comes to searching for planets using transits, it is best to just star continuously at the stars, and wait for the characteristic dimming.  Fortunately, this system lies in a part of the sky that can (now) be observed using the Kepler Space telescope, whose job is specifically to do just that.  In a few months, we might have much more and much better information about these planets!

Perhaps the most interesting aspect of the discovery so far is that the planets are observed to be almost in resonance.  I'll describe what that means in more detail another time; but in brief, it means that the orbital periods are integer multiples of each other.  In this case, the 1st planet orbits five times for every three of the 2nd planet; eight times for every three of the 3rd; twelve times for every three of the 4th; and eighteen times for every three of the 5th.  In our Solar System, three of the four largest moons of Jupiter also are in resonance with each other, but in a much simpler 1:2:4 ratio (for every orbit of Ganymede, Europa orbits twice, and Io four times).  The existence of resonance tells us two things.  First, the planets likely migrated through their star system to arrive at their current locations; resonances are particularly harmful places to try to build a planet.  Second, these planets might be interacting with each other and their star to heat each others' interiors through tidal interactions.  This process makes Io the most volcanically active planet in the Solar System, and may be responsible for the existence of a vast reservoirs of liquid water beneath the surface of Europa and deep in the core of Ganymede.  In fact, a rough calculation suggests that each of these bodies experiences tidal heating that is far larger than what Io experiences.  Even if these planets cannot support atmospheres, there is a high probability that the subsurfaces of these bodies can support life.  Or, it could be that each of these planets is turning itself inside out, like that of Kal-El's Krypton.

The team that discovered these planets have mentioned that they'd like to see them named for Belgian Trappist Style beers.  Since it is unlikely we'll be able to narrow down a list to seven Trappist Beers, I propose instead to name the planets for their ultimate eponymous influence, the Trappist Monks themselves and their practices.  The Trappists take three vows, and practice several disciplines.  So, the planets would be named: Stability, Fidelity, Obedience, Tranquility, Dexterity, Vegetarian, and (rarely seen) Sobriety.

Why is the Solar System like a Carousel?

...and not more like a moth-infested light bulb?

Someone who is like a brother to me asked me this question recently (well, I may have rephrased it slightly).  I thought it would be a good idea to write up my response as a blog post. 

As it turns out -- in a manner of speaking -- the planets actually resemble both.  To understand what I mean by this, let's think about the formation of a star like the Sun and its Solar System of planets.

Most stars begin as a huge cloud of gas and dust.  Due to gravity, every molecule in the cloud tugs a little on every other molecule, but on average, the tugs mostly balance out.  Except on the edge of the cloud, that is.  You're right, I never said the cloud had an edge.  But, face it, if it didn't have an edge, then this cloud we're talking about is the whole Universe, not a star; and that's an entirely different prospect.  So, this cloud has boundaries, and you will respect them.

If you were a molecule on the edge of this cloud, because all of the molecules are on one side of you, and none are on the other, you will feel a gravitational pull toward the center of the cloud.  It's just like standing on the surface of the Earth.  But, there is no "surface" on the edge of this cloud.  So, instead of feeling your weight supported by the solid surface, you begin to fall through the cloud.  If you were to dig a hole under your feet through the center of the Earth and out the other side, you could experience the same sensation as this molecule (legal disclaimer: please do not dig a hole from your backyard through the center of the Earth and then jump in; if you do, then @wwwheniheard claims no responsibility for what may, literally, befall you).  If you do that on Earth, you'll fall and fall, picking up speed until you reach the center of the Earth.  When you reach the center of the Earth, because you are now falling VERY quickly, you'll zoom right on past.  As soon as you do, however, because there is now more mass behind you than in front for you, you start slowing down.  If we assume the Earth is perfectly uniform, then you'll come to a stop just as you reach the surface at the antipode (this is an awesome word to drop into a casual conversation: Google it).  If you don't grab hold of the ledge, the next thing you'll see is the tiny mouth of your cave fading in the distance as you again fall through the Earth back to your starting point.

Of course, if you did this on Earth, most of the time, the other end of the tunnel would be under water, and the ocean would flood into the hole from the other side.  As you fell, you'd eventually crash into this massive flood, and would very quickly cease to fall, and cease to live.  Of course, even if you were lucky enough to live in a place where there is land at your antipode, then air molecules would rush in to fill the void you've created.  As you fall, you'll encounter all of these air molecules.  And each one you bumped into would slow you down just a little bit.  This is called air drag.  Skydivers are very thankful for this aspect of physics.

Now, back to the cloud of gas and dust.  If you are very lucky, though it may take a while, you will fall all the way to the other edge (oh, did I not mention we are assuming it is a spherical cloud?  Yeah, I'm a physicist, that's all we know), just as you did in the Earth example.  But, the cloud is very big and you have very many molecular friends.  You're going to run into one of them, and then another, and then another.  And, just as in the Earth case, when you reach the other side, you'll find that you can't quite make it to the edge.  So, you now are trapped inside the cloud, closer to then center than where you started.  Now, imagine this happening to EVERY molecule in the cloud, and you can see that, eventually, we'll start to have a crowd near the center.

That's when things start getting interesting....

Adventures in Kanjiland, Part 2

Well, one thing that trying to learn the Kanji has helped me with is remembering the names of the train stations.  And knowing these names reveals a bit about the history of the area I think, or at least shows how much Japan has changed in the last hundred years or so.  For example, the city nearest where I live is called Machida (町田).  It essentially means town-town.  However, that is not too unusual a name when you consider that the town grew up around a large rail station at the confluence of two major and growing rail lines.  My housemate tells me that Machida station is today among the ten most popular transfer points in the Tokyo area rail system.

I take the train to ISAS passing through Kobuchi (古淵), which means "old wasteland," on my way to Fuchinobe (淵野辺), which means "edge of the wasteland." In other words, it seems this trainline was truly a road to nowhere.  However, on the other side is Sagamihara (相模原) station, which is the namesake of the city containing all of these stations.  Its name represents the fact that this was once a massive USA Army base, after WWII.  There still is an Army base in Sagamihara, in Camp Zama.  Many years ago, large portions of the base were returned to Japan; these areas now house Fuchinobe, Kobuchi, ISAS, etc.

I've also learned some new Japanese words thanks to the Kanji!  Walking to or from ISAS, I pass a large sign at a Nissan dealership.  It reads, 中古車.  I recognized all three: 中 is "middle," 古 is "old," and 車, is "vehicle."  Hmm, middle-old vehicle... middle aged car?  Ah, "Used Car", chu-u-ko-sha!  It was a used car dealership.  Another I found nearby was 大売出.  The first was big ('dai'), the last was out ('dashi'), the middle I had to remind myself was sale ('uru').  Ah, "Big Sell Out"!  Or, rather, dai-uri-dashi, a Clearance Sale!  

Hmm, maybe the vocabulary I learn by reading billboards isn't the most useful after all....

Adventures in Kanjiland

Learning Japanese is hard (muzukashii desu: 難しいです).

Well, really, learning any language is difficult.  For Westerners, it seems it is more difficult than learning other Indoeuropean languages because they barely share any common origin.  If you are French and learning English, you are already a substantial way to your goal before you even start.  Words are shared, grammar and sentence structure are similar, and alphabet is common (with a few minor and easily memorized exceptions).  But a Westerner learning Japanese must learn not one but two new alphabets, and -- if one wishes to become fluent and literate -- thousands of kanji characters.

With my responsibilities to the mission and my project, I do not have an abundance of time to spend learning Japanese.  I grab what time I can; usually a few hours on the weekend at a coffeeshop while I enjoy a long, leisurely lunch.  But, my progress was slow.  So I thought I'd try something different.  I've been told my method is a very unusual way to learn Japanese; and it may be.  But, I think it fits my way of thinking, and in the long run may prove more fruitful.

I've decided to put the brakes on my textbook learning and instead devote most of my time to learning Kanji.  Here's my thinking.  I can only devote a couple of hours a week to studying Japanese.  A housemate has been attending 15 hours of class instruction per week for the last five months.  He has long since surpassed my meagre capabilities; but even he says he feels he still knows almost no Japanese, and most of the time has no clue what people are saying or writing.  In two or three hours per week, I'll never make a dent in this, based on that experience.  But, if I learn the Kanji, then even as I commute to and from work, I can be studying: watching for learned kanji, guessing at previously unknown kanji if I see a group and know two of the three, and I can see what it is describing (e.g, I know that 屋 is 'flower', so 花屋 tells me that 屋 is 'shop'; I can then look up how to pronounce 屋).  It is still slow, but I can feel a little more progress than I did before.  Maybe it is just that I am doing something a little different; but isn't that how all muscles are strengthened?