In this people's language there is a special word for defining such science as geo-politics – Chiseygaku. Literarily "teaching on the well-ordered land". Such people cannot be something ordinary.

In this people's language there is a word Oshym (o-shima). It means "great island". Such people has access to ultimately deep layers of dreams.

In this people's language "sovereign", "emperor" is called Tenno, "Heavenly one". Such people itself tastes of heavenly fish.

A gold carp had been rising along the waterfall, but because of its absent-mindedness it didn't notice, that the water was past and it was moving to the sky. Higher, higher... The red carp is growing, wings come out of him, its scales are getting thicker... and it is already the greate red dragon that is swimming in the sky.

Professor Tamotsu Murata told that story in the ancient little restaurant in Asakusa residential area, explaining the canvas which hanged there on a wall. The slender old profesor from a Samurai family was writing haiku poetry on a paper sheet, which opposite side was dotted with mathematic formulas. He was finishing a book on the problem of continuality.

"I think we should seek for the source of continuum in the mistery of a moment", he had told not long before. "One day many years ago, when I was totally young, not such as I am now (the impenetrable visage, in which the smile is expressed by the unnoticeable movement of the hair), I was standing in a tiny yard, looking at the sky, and suddenly I understood, that I am. That there is I and only I. And I not as something occured, lasting, but as something momentary. Continuity is born from a revelation moment."

The Japanese read Western philosophy, but understand it in their utterly own way.

Professor Murata asked me to comment his views after his lecture about Kant. The gist of his report was reducible to the following. "Kant shouldn't have separated the transcendent sphere of reason and empirical world of sensuality. There IS a connexion between them – language is the connexion."

I answered: "It is an excellent idea, but then we arrive to conclusion, that language is a magical instrument, a magic hermetic means, with the help of which one can turn the rarefied to the dense and the dense to the rarefied."

"Indeed, how exactly you understood me", agreed old professor Tamotsu Murata. "And could you subject this approach to criticism?"

"Yes I could", I answered. "you have been reading Kant, who belonged to modernity context, being a Japanese, who belongs to non-modernity context".

All Japanese belong to the eternal present. And the fact, that Japanese professors, refined and educated in utterly European way, can treat the classics of rationalism in such way, foreshows that Japan will still shine over the world, like the bloody eye of the non-quantitative, momentarily continual goddess Amaterasu.

Que Japon vive et revive cent mille fois! When I talked to Parvulesco after my return from Japan, he told the pity of my not letting him know of my trip beforehand. "Mon cher Alexander, I would have organized your meeting with my daughter, who teaches French in Tokyo University, and she wouldn't have taken trouble with arranging for you to have audience with Tenno".

"I will certainly go there again, Jean!"

A mask of the sacred theater "no" hanged on the canvas with the carp. Professor Tamotsu Murata suddenly leapt to his feet from the tatami – he seemed to be thrown from below – and began to slightly stir the canvas and the mask. The mask revived, reflecting the entire range of emotions – sinister, merry, ironical, cruel ones.

"And if one looks from different perspectives, in it there will appear the entire life. One and the same, seen in different ways, is no longer one and the same..."

And on other wall of the secret little restaurant of Asakusa there was a faded personage with small horns – demon Anita, the keeper of hell. There are so many fish in hell...

Then a head of a fish was served to us. It was as big as a wheel of a waggon. I didn't know that there could be so huge fish. The floor in the restaurant was black and earthen. It's roughness was a cipher key.

I caught myself at what I understand a lot more than I notice.
All the even tries to get closer to death.

The Japanese are the keepers of life. Which is dense, which you can get breathless with, which is underwater, aerial, made of a piece of red dingy cloth, of dog's side, of a porcelain cruel doll, of a house as big as a suitcase, of copper bells tinkling, that notifies the spirits of peoples' arrival to the sanctuary-djindja and of their readiness to throw a coin – djindjas are everywhere, I dropped in at all I came across – to say little, I saw inside them a lot!

One who wants to know, what a pure substance of life is, should visit Japan.

In the Japanese language there aren't word "no" and word "I".

The roaring "hai" ("yes"), said without voice inflexion, with gleaming black Japanese eyes, with unbelievable wild energy means all in aggregate. Yes – it is the great enthusiasm of sacred holography, when the Universe is focused upon the small piece of land.

From the sacred geography to the sacred holography.

At the reception in the Japanese Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Professor Masaru Sato, looking like a sumo wrestler. He speaks about Japanese Eurasism, about necessity of Japan's return to the former greatness a bit fractally, aggressively, being overfilled by energy of mountains.

"We had a national thinker – Okawa. He was a consistent advocate for the continental bloc – Tokyo-Moscow-Berlin. He foresaw the pernicious consequences of anti-Russian attitude, was persuaded, that Japan would be able to maintain its influence in the Pacific region only through strategic partnership with Russia."

"We Japanese", Sato-san continued, "are in some sense communists, but only with the Emperor. We are for the collective, but hierarchized, sacred one..."

The communists of magic.

Important: all the modernistic in Japan is extremely perfunctory. They managed it! Yes, they managed it. The modern is deactivated there, deprived of its metaphysics.

Just as professor Murata in utterly natural way adds to Kant a mere trifle, language as an instument of operative magic, and a catholic (!) professor Yoichiro Murakami operates with concepts of Buddhism to describe main trends of history of science, translates Jung and Pauli (this is called the West!), so the ordinary Japanese turn McDonalds to djindja. A lantern with hieroglyph and swastika, bringing luck, and several comrades from two million "deities" of shinto momentarily turn hamburger temple of "New World Order" into the traditional Japanese snackbar. And professor Toshio Yokoyama from Kyoto interprets "civility" as traditional attitude of the Japanese to gods, flowers, beasts and people. The civil society in such interpretation is the society of a sacred rite.

In such case I am a supporter of civil society.

A citizen is one who follows "do". Who does not follow "do", is none. "Do" in Japanese is the immanent godliness, including the trancendent aspect as its natural extension.

The spirit of Japan ("do") is unbreakable.

In Japan they have a good attitude to Americans. The motive? Americans were once able to defeat the godlike Japanese, therefore they are godlike too. There is no concept of evil.
There is the concept of path, "do".

In Japan they have a bad attitude to America. The motive? How can one have a good attitude to it?

In Japan one could leave a wallet with money on a street and return for it in a week. It would be just there.

There is a sufi parable on how a wisest sheikh, who knew everything and was a chief sultan's adviser, left his purse in the bazaar. He remembered that in a week and went to take it back. His murids were bewildered: "either sheikh has gone out of his mind or we do not understand something". In Asia, purses disappear in the bazaar even if they are firmly gripped in hand. Japan is not Asia, it is beyond Asia. It is the country, where ethical norms of the contemplative sheikh are made a reality.

Japan is unreal.

It seems to me that there cannot be such a country.

Technology here is an element of "do". Assembling electronic devices is an equivalent of arts of making ritual ekibanas up or of tea ceremony.

It is an electronic version of Yemoto, "do" keepers.

There are no Japanese without "do".

"Are here avant-garde artists? Drug addicts? Transvestites? Those who inhabit the modern West?"
"They were here at one time, but disappeared somewhere with time".

There are drug addicts among newcomers. The Chinese, the Taiwanese, the Philippinese. The Japanese cannot be affected by anything. Their customary everyday life is a continuous luxurious hallucination. Under Kyoto bridges people, who live in containers, watch TV. Even in garbage nooks strange live aesthetics reigns.

Watch out: schoolchildren!

They walk in streets, in Metro, in historic parks and mountain museums by well-shaped squares. All in the uniform. One ought not come across them. The divine wind once destroyed the Mongolian fleet. Kamikaze. People and wind are relatives. The Japanese schoolchildren are the relatives of the aimed divine wind.

Kami-kaze, "Divine Wind". By this one can clue the fascinating figure of Rembo «Le vent de Dieux jettait des glacons aux marres..."

Old Believers of persuasion Beguny ("runners" or "escapists") in former times had a teaching about a secret "Opon czardom". I understood what was meant.

It was Shinkoku – the doctrine of "Sacred Japan".

Shinto priests teach: the ancient good spirits Izanagi-no-mikotu and Izanami-no-mikotu once married with each other and bore islands Honshu and Kushu. Those mainlands resulted only from their lawful wedlock. Before that there appeared spiders and ghosts, and also small islands. Then they bore also a lot of good spirits and the first emperor Tenno. The brother islands drew out of themselves mountains, rivers, giant red-white fish (which swim in Japan in every pool, offering themselves to skillful cooks – I and Polyakov made friends with one of such fish – this was a professor fish from Tokyo University), forests, tea, sacred narrow-muzzled dogs, which guard sanctuaries, spirits and conifers, sunbeams and soft clowds, which can be only over the Near-Moscow-Localities. The Emperor bore the Japanese. The Japanese and Japan constitue one kindred alliance. Heaven and earth, a rice sprout, clay, a stream, a stone, a vacuum cleaner, a peasant and a policeman are one kindred organism. In the Japanese the wind, sweet clowd wind flows through their veins instead of blood, nourishing the eyes by the flesh of dream. And always so. So has it always been and so will it always be.

Shinkoku. Where there is nothing to exclude and to include.

Japan is the Eurasian esoterism. It is the clue to us. Opon czardom. The altar of Eurasia.

In the garden of emperor's palace, on the remains of the tower, built by a Shogun, which in the world there wasn't higher of, but which was standing for just several years, we talked with Polyakov about advantage of ontological reflections for heuristic solutions in modern physics. About the equation of Navier and Stokes. About prospects of development of the united theory of substance on the basis of phase change analysis in works of the physicist, called Sinai. Masuda dozed on a sunlit bench off. Suddenly a raven appeared before us. We unpreconcertedly understood, that it was Shogun's warrior. It guarded the emperor's garden, keeping vigilant watch over who, where, what does and what says. The raven was in the size of around two metres. In the eyes of two big-bellied tourists, who perspiringly ascended the tower's remains the pupils were rolled unseeingly – it seemed they did not see the raven with a pointed coal-black beak. It disappeared noiseless.

All partitions in Japan are opening, they are made of paper. The membranes between the dimensions have a special structure – very well-ordered, carefully fixed. Approximateness of metamorphoses is here conceptualized, permeated with mathematics.

Japanese cars have the snout of Shintoist spirits.

Tetsuya Masuda pointed at an undistinguished imperceptible stone, which lied at the entrance to a little restaurant on the narrow Kyoto street. "This is a garden". By the Japanese a stone, a blade of grass, a stem, a little pool is anyway garden. They take a fragment of what is and penetrate it by their sacred Japanese attention. And a garden is born. The garden-bringing people.

In Kyoto we were served a fish. Its sides were cut off and the raw meat lied beside. The fish was left its snout, skeleton and caudal fin. It made gasping-for-breath movements by its mouth, blew a little bubble. In the half-dark room I counted nine levels – the floor, the "bar" stand, the table, the benches and so forth – which were at the different distance from an imaginary line. As if all the planes must have been shifting as in a multi-mirror lift. Masuda told the story about his French friend, who had been so horified by revealing the fact that a fish was breathing that started to shout at him for him to urgently bring a knife and to "save a poor animal from misery".

Masuda obediently went for a knife. But he long could not get it from the master, who sincerely did not understand what was up. When he still returned with a knife, the Frenchman with a great effort in hysteric anguish had already crushed fish skull by the wooden saucer and had been gazing round perplexedly. "He made the fish suffer rather than attentively observe its death-transfer and participate in it by all himself – mouth, tongue, stomach..."

We looked at the fish, at the small black bubble near its mouth... Polyakov touched its moist nose by the chopstick...

The city's view is psychedelic. Not a single direct line, all the area consists of huge number of squares. The area is overrich in the sense and in the symbol. Like a Russian cemetery. All is satiated with the Being. Japan has ontologic architecture.

We with Polyakov founded a new teching: ontological teaching Kyoto-Helsinki. The second root of Eurasia.

Eurasia is Japan-centered in our geometry. So teaches Chiseygaku.

The last evening brought us to the Tokyo's Near-Moscow-Localities. I noticed almost at once upon my arrival to Japan that it had Russian sky. But only on the last day before my return it became clear that near Tokyo there were grasses and flavours of the Near-Moscow-Localities.

Profuse, abundant, black, bloody saps of the earth. A small island of grass and of Russ plus computer lights of Shinkansen, luminous sky-scrapers, twinkling highways, neon hieroglyphs blink around. It seems to me, that when a Russian dies, he first finds himself in here and drinks Japanese beer Kirin, until he understands what's what.

Nikolay-do. Matins before Whitsunday are served by the Metropolitan of All Japan himself. The icons are all Russian. On the right from the altar there is a picture. Russian field, forest, a Russian beauty stands in a crown, with nimbus and with a cross in hand. The saint Olga. On the icon there is a fragment of Russian Shinkoku. The icon of Russian field, Russian forest. Two holographic realities. Somewhere in mediastinum of dream they are bound, put by roots in each other. Roots of Opon czardom, construction of Vladivostok-Hokkaido tunnel, Shinkansen from Tokyo to Berlin.

The words interflow in the whole unsplit stream. In kanji one can not only read and write, but also think. Think by a whole piece of world, which is indivisible, complete, pulsatory from overrichness of inner Being.

A thought on Japan is the thought about wholeness.
The red rising heart.
The light of the Orient.
They ought rule again and again.
For all the Pacific sphere to co-succeed.

Part 2. The Geonauts

I have been honoured by the visit of Japanese professor Shukei Yamaguchi. One more of them. They now visit me everyday. That is right. If you started to go on visits, go on. Japanese like density very much. Like we Russians do. But in other way.

He asked me to explain, what "being a Russian" means.

I answered...

He studied Jung's heritage. And a director of a Jungian college in Switzerland seemed to give his blessing to him to write a research on classification of basic temperaments (introverted and extraverted ones) by different countries and nations. A very good idea.

Yamaguchi was coming to the conclusion that Western peoples are of extraverted type, Eastern ones are of introverted one. And in Europe the Germans are relatively introverted ("the thinking, reflecting introverted people"). In his classification the Russians are "the intuitive introverted people". The Hindus (like the Germans) are "the reflecting introverted people". The Japanese are "sensual introverted people".

It's clear that the sphere of "introvertedness" is the mental continent Eurasia.

The introvertedness gravitates towards inner experience, towards "likeness", towards "unity", towards "interfusion".

"Inner world is the world of life", Yamaguchi said. Talking with him I made out, that he worships the Absolute Life. It's the essense of Eurasian worship. The Absolute Life. Hence follow very important definitions:

"Therefore an introverted person as he is concerned more with his inner life than with the outside material world, is liable to see reality in some form of all-including unity or interfusion. He likes to feel united with Nature. He would not assert himself, because it means he should be independent or separated from the world or other people. He would try to form a group with friends and tends to submerge in it. He does not like to be different from other people. When he has to make judgement, he tends to see the reality from the point of view of similarity, not from the difference. So he is inclined to say first "yes" but later he often says "no" much to detriment of his credibility." (Yamaguchi)

It's the description of us, me, the Russian people, the Japanese people, all good and interesting people on earth.

Further Yamaguchi describes the Japanese psychology. For instance, the O-tsuki-mi rite. It's when the Japanese silently, for hours look at the moon. Their Unconscious bathes then in the moonlight, is cured and cleaned, like the country itself washes in ocean waters, removing scum. The Japanese thoroughly care for their Unconscious, clean and nurse it.

Each Japanese sees Moon at his own angle and it changes colour. This is tamamushi-iro practice. Things change colour in dependence on how one looks at them. The colour is the voice of the Psyche. True distinctions arise where through different people the common misterious beam of light of the Absolute Life, which got married on nation, is radiated.

The Japanese hate to subdue the surrounding world, because they do not tell themselves from it. And again professor Yamaguchi gives a surprisingly precise sentence:

"Japanese does not like clear distinction, but tends to leave things in ambiguity". As if we are during the lectures of "the New University"...

At the lection "The Secret Mother" I gave a definition of a human, which made grounds of new Eurasian anthropology: "a man is an inaccurate movement of the Possible".

I meant a Russian by "a human". As it has become clear, the Japanese ideally meet that definition.

I retold Yamaguchi the story with professor Murata and Kant. He listened to me with the great interest. When I had come to the language, which bridges the abyss between the empirical world and the reason, he suddenly interrupted me, sawing the air: "they are connected through the absolute life, which radiates through people and things... Kant is incomprehensible without Bergson and Jung!"

It's all clear with you, I gave up. And that Japanese, who has been living in the West for more than 20 years, hasn't understood anything in the world, where he has found himself in. And he will never understand. And thanks to God! Thanks... This imparts to me great strength for my work. To him, evidently, too.

Then the professor asked me to tell him about Russia.

I answered: "the most important thing in Russia is geonautics, "land-floating", the theory of liquid land. We conceive the dense as beef tea, not as stone. Vapours of land rise and form the land ocean. These are multi-dimensional worlds, breath of the Being. The land, Russian land has its own Navier-Stokes equation. The Russians walk on land by their entire body, not by heels.

Therefore the Russians are the areally introverted people. For them the land is not something firm, but something moist and viscious. The Russians drift on land, that's why they do not understand anything. Except for the Japanese. Quite the contrary, they have an understanding of the Japanese."

Yamaguchi's eyes were gleaming, double-gleaming, burning.

"And how do the Russians make judgements? Logically? Intuitively? Emotionally? Egoistically?"

"No, nothing is right. The Russians make judgements according to principle of maximum silliness. They choose just what is less reasonable and would bring them a lot of inconvenience. They evade the choice, sabotage it. Choosing absurdly and not to the point, not what and not when is needed, they give to understand: your proposal, your conditions of choice are idiotic by themselves. And it is proper to answer idiotism by idiotism. It is the active abstentionism. We just do not want to live along the imposed regulations. We swim. The essense of Russia is the ironical seriousness. The ironical silliness. Showing ourselves as fools, we laugh at those, who do not consider themselves as such. When a Russian is reading Dostoyevskiy, he is dying laughing, Dostoyevskiy is amazingly laughable author."

"You don't say! His works are a distressing drama for us... And what about Russian mesianism?"

"It is very important. That messianism is pointed to the West. It is messianism of the introvertedness. We as well as other peoples of the East are introverted people, though not passive, not natural, but aggressive, preternatural. We march under introvertedness as under a standard, extend it over the world, weigh heavily over membranes of the West, which we do not like, but, by the way, understand. May be just because of that we do not like it so much."

"But the Russians are very gifted at the sphere of art, beauty..."

"Yes, but not out of aestheticism. Just when three hundred years ago we were imposed the Western culture, which was extraverted in its essense, we chose the least rational, least reasonable in it – the sphere of art, where there is more space for the Irrational. But that was a mere substitute of real land-floating. Quite a poor one. But we succeeded in it, that's true."

And then the professor couldn't stand anymore. Interrupting me, he said: "I would like to express my emotions by singing".

In his profile there was a phrase "professional whistler". Having first seen it I thought "probably they call flautists so".

No, he was a natural, literal "professional whistler".

Professor Shukei Yamaguchi began to whistle. It was the autumn whistling, dedicated to the thin spider lines of evening, which noiselessly fly dowm from the sakura branches. The autumn whistling. He whistled the classic academic whistling, helping himself with his hand. The Japanese national whistling.

It stands in my ears. That strange whistle...