Autumn In Japan

I’m at Narita airport only six hours before my flight. Perhaps I’ll make it. It’s always iffy.

This is a moment, with time, and Advent floats through all the memories of life in this season of quiet, stillness, and expectation.

I’m longing for the quiet and stillness that can only come from within me. It is the work of my soul to find these treasures when I lose or forget them. They are real. I can find them. That will be my souls work this Advent season.

I’m listening to a lovely Christmas song. It is Sara Bareilles, “Love is Christmas.” I may be pursuing a path to Buddhism, but I won’t give up this season and the songs I love to hear, over and over again.

Last year at this time, after Carol had been gone for little more than a year, I was walking through a park in Seattle and the thought came to me – Advent is coming! With that I started to cry. It was such a surprise, coming from inside without any other provocation.

We both loved this season – the darkness, the cold, the candles of the Advent wreath.

I’m tired and am at Narita waiting for my flight home. A few days ago, a thought came to me – Advent is coming! It made me happy to think that, after this Japan adventure, I will be home for the season. I can turn on my playlist and it will help me to find the quiet and stillness my soul is searching for.

I will have an Advent wreath and light candles and incense each night. I will play my songs over and over again.

The last few years have brought me great sadness, great change, and now a great adventure. With its ending, I feel there is something coming, but I do not know what. Probably nothing dramatic. I have no big plans. Whatever it is, I wish to be prepared. This is Advent – waiting, watching in silence and stillness, with expectation. My souls work has begun.

After two months of travel, and two days in massive Tokyo, I decided that my last day would be calm and include an element that has helped bring some structure to my trip.

I boarded a train for a short ride to Yokohama. Near Yokohama is the second principle temple in the Soto zen tradition. The first is Eihei-ji, the monastery I visited and stayed overnight at seven weeks ago. Has it been that long?

I had not planned this daytrip before yesterday afternoon. It occurred to me that visiting Soji-ji would help to bring my trip to a fitting conclusion.

This is the long walkup to the temple. More than anything else, the bright yellow ginkgo leaves, mostly fallen now, provided a beautiful display on this lovely Autumn day. I relished the calm of the temple grounds. There were very few visitors.

These visits to Soto temples are meaningful, being that I am relatively new to the tradition. I feel as if their history and stories are slowly becoming my own. I am enjoying a sense of something new in life, grateful for this feeling. Sort of like whatever this guy is feeling.

Well, maybe not quite like that!

These guys are significantly less exuberant in their joy, as I usually am. They are the fierce guardian zen types, regularly found at these temples. In their own way, they are dragon type personas, guardians of the treasures of the tradition.

Writing of dragons, I was sorely disappointed in Soji-ji. I searched all around for fierce and cool dragons but found only this, at the high top of the dharma hall:

I think that is a dragon figure but it’s a bit inconclusive. Soji-ji needs to up their dragon game!

Soji-ji was not originally at this place but up in the Noto peninsula and wasn’t even a zen temple. It seems this sort of thing happens frequently enough. Nevertheless, it eventually became affiliated with the Soto tradition and actively continues to this day.

This seems a fitting final image for my trip to Soji-ji. The sitting figure, in front, I believe to be Shakumuni Buddha. Behind him is probably Dogen-Zenji, wielding the keisaku, who appears ready to whack the Buddha over the shoulder due to his slumping posture or because he is falling asleep. The other standing figures are zen monks with their begging bowls, making their rounds under the hot summer sun.

Tomorrow, I fly back to Seattle. I will be greeted there by the season of Advent that began yesterday. It is my favorite Christan time of the year. It is the time of waiting, in quiet, in stillness, with watchful expectation, for what is coming, I know not what. I can’t think of a better time to be returning home. Time to get out the candles for the Advent wreath.

More dragons. These two are actually quite terrifying! At Kennin-ji. Dogen was here for a time after returning from China. Not satisfied with what he heard there, he left to establish his own monastery in Kyoto. Notice the carp in these images. The Japanese dragons are water creatures versus the English versions which are land based. Here is my take. I think the Japanese dragons are more powerful images since they come out of the depths, as it were, versus the images of dragons who inhabit the same land space as we do. Dragons are, thus, deep, profound, and mysterious. They come out of our own depths, as dreams do. They can be both frightening, as in giving warning, and beneficial as guides along difficult pathways.

More turtles on the Kamo. This is the third of the three turtle crossings.

Autumn in Kyoto. Kamo River. The walking, biking, running paths on both sides of the river are lovely places to experience the slower pace and side of Kyoto.

Another REAL FISH mokugyo, for my zen friends. Reeling in one of these beauties would be a real spiritual treat for us tenkin types. This one was at Sansho-ji in Nara.

Walkway along the Sumida river in Tokyo. The Tokyo tower is hard to miss. Personally, after the Space Needle, I think they should have stopped erecting these eyesores since perfection had been achieved. Just my humble and non-biased opinion.

A Tokyo canal I came across during my long walk from the opulence of Ginza to the wild Akasuka area in Tokyo. After long avenues of tall buildings most of the way, this was a pleasant and almost watery rural sight.

The Bodhidarma picture I posted earlier is rather a clean-cut version of this Wildman just having crossed over to China, spending nine years sitting in a cave, facing the hard walls, and unwilling to talk to anyone. I may not have my facts straight here, but the story of wild persons bringing radical change to old traditions oughtn’t be too sanitized.

I have three days to explore Tokyo. Where does one even begin? That was the question I asked myself this morning. Rivers, I thought, are good places to begin.

Sumida river. It’s the only name I knew. As with anything Tokyo related, I knew it from watching all the episodes of “Midnight Diner.” It was just one line from one of the episodes, spoken by the sullen “philosopher,” Katagiri:

Life is like the Sumida river
You have to keep your distance
Don't underestimate life.

Wandering around without a plan is my next usual option. I did that for a long time before wandering back over into the Ginza where my hotel is located. I’m here because the hotel looked like a nice place to spend my last few days in Japan and it is close enough to walk to and from Tokyo station. Otherwise, Ginza is an uber-rich persons idea of heaven. I’m a bit out of my element.

The wide avenue of Ginza was open only to pedestrians on this sunny but cold Saturday. I found a chair to sit in the warmth of the sun, eat my trail mix, and watch people strolling and taking selfies, often at the same time.

My big excitement came on the train ride here from Kyoto. The sky was clear. I had the right seat assignment and, from being pretty sure I wouldn’t see it, I saw it, and it was spectacular!

The first photo is taken from the east side of Mt. Fuji and the second from the west. I’ve gotten used to Shinkansen speed but the video captures that speed pretty well. It also captures a long segment of the barriers that are regular parts of the viewing “pleasure.” You never know when they are coming to mess up the views.

I’ve been trying to pay attention to the “slowly” wisdom I wrote about earlier. I thought of this today as I was deciding when to leave my hotel for Kyoto station to catch the train to Tokyo.

“Earlier rather than later” was my thought. I agreed with this sensible wisdom, for once. I left with plenty of time to catch a city bus for the train station and arrived at the chaotic station with well more than an hour to pick up my tickets, get a coffee, and find my boarding platform.

Then, a long and slow line to get to the ticket machine. Lines are not my strong suit. I get prematurely worried that, even with time to spare, chaos will ensue, and I’ll miss my train. I have tended to be a “worst case scenario” kind of guy.

But, “slowly” intervened for me. I stood calmly in line, not sensing my usual anxiety about all that could still go awry. I had time to wait, watch, and listen.

That’s when I had an unusual sensation. I was feeling stress and anxiety, but not my own. It felt as if it were coming from every direction, from persons dashing madly about Kyoto station.

This sensation came first from the couple standing in line in front of me. They were looking around and, from their English, it was clear that this long and slow moving line was getting to them, especially the gentleman. In his words and actions I saw the very representation of myself in many situations in the past.

Can the anxiety of others be felt, multiplied by thousands, without taking it in and becoming anxious also?

Anyway, that’s what it felt like, for a moment. I continued to feel calm in my own self while the anxiety of others manifested, somewhere, somehow, in me.

Bah! More zen hogwash I suppose. Yet…

I have one day left to be part of the life of Kyoto. Yesterday, as with most days, I walked a lot but without any real plan. I’ve done the things here that I wanted to do. There are many more places to see that I will not see, but only because I chose not to see them. I don’t know what I’ll do today, meaning that I had plenty of time and more than I needed. No regrets, though. This beautiful city needed all the time I gave it and I’m satisfied, if tired. That is not Kyotos’ fault. Two months of traveling has about worn me out.

The challenges I figured to face were as much as I thought they might be – the food issues and the language difficulties. Still, I found my way along, and adapted pretty well. I came here to see and experience Japan, not so much to experience the cuisine or learn the language. The thing is that the food and language issues were barely separable. Not being able to communicate my allergy requirements meant that, after a couple of weeks, I gave up trying. I like to think it was a way of being kind to my hosts who, it was very clear, were doing their best and didn’t wish to make me sick or worse.

I’ve had two months of trains, buses, hotels, bikes, walking, and making plans for each day. I’ve been lost more times than I can remember. I’ve gotten by with such bits of charm that I possess – smiles, bows. Politeness always works.

I’ve run up against my dark companions of a lifetime that show themselves more often than I like to admit. Since they’ve come up too frequently, I’ve been paying them more attention than when they pop up less often. They are my challenging dharma gates that I’m being called to enter. I will enter them! I vow it!

I talk to myself all the time and find it best to have humor with my foibles and my lack of common sense, or failure to follow my good sense when it tries its best to help me along.

This intensive travel brings out many qualities, good and not so much so. I will continue to reflect on these things in the days and months to come.

As for Kyoto? I will remember this city, not as I had imagined it, but as it is, like me, possessed of age and bits of wisdom, grace, beauty, and some madness here and there.

Of the things I will remember most, it might be turtle walking on the Kamo River. I walked all three versions of those turtles yesterday and I may do the same today. As I do, I shall speak with my turtle friends and our dragon allies, of coming to the realization of my true self and, in so doing, help all to cross over to the other shore.

Ah, those lovely dragons!

Ah, those lovely turtles!

I was talking to a fellow traveler at breakfast two days ago. I told her that I would be going to see the “dry garden” at Ryoan-ji zen buddhist temple in northwest Kyoto. She knew nothing about it. I was shocked! I figured if you come to Kyoto you come, at the very least, to see this most iconic of dry gardens in the world. I guess not. Of course, there are a good many more sights to see in this great city.

I saw her again this morning and she said she visited Ryoan-ji yesterday. She was not terribly impressed with this famous garden. How could it be?

It dawned on me (duh!) that there are many so-called “famous” sights in the world that I would have no knowledge of or even interest to see. We all have our tastes, our desires, our adventures.

I made my way, at long last, to Ryoan-ji. I saw this beautiful artistic example of simplicity, the zen ideal, in the form of raked gravel, rocks placed “just so,” a bit of moss backed by a low wall, and a forest of Japanese maples and conifers overlooking it all. In it’s elements, it has not changed for hundreds of years.

I had a good and long look. All that I wanted.

I stood to see other sights that Ryoan-ji had to offer. There were dragons! And such ferocious, frightening, and cool dragons as one could wish for!

Dragons show up in one artistic form or another in buddhist temples. They are seen as protector guardians, specifically protectors of the dharma, the teachings. They are also seen as embodiments of enlightenment. This aspect is not clear to me. Protector, I can understand. But, when you see a dragon, as depicted at Ryoan-ji, you have to wonder how enlightenment fits the picture. I had to do some research. A site named “Traditional Kyoto,” says this:

The dragon is “a symbol of Imperial Power, Guardian of the Eastern Direction, Deity of Rain and of Heaven, Protector of the Buddha and Buddhist Law. Often depicted with a pearl or ball under its chin, which symbolizes thunder.” And, almost as an aside, “Turtles are the messengers of the Dragon.”

I’m not sure how authoritative this site is, because my research capabilities are limited. However, this sounds about right except it doesn’t answer the enlightenment question. But, not important for now. More important is the idea that “turtles are messengers of the dragon.” That may help explain the turtles on the Kamo River. They aid one in “crossing over to the other side.” Just love the idea of turtles and dragons conspiring together to bring enlightenment to all beings!

It also explains a strange coincidence in my own home. I have two small toylike creatures that sit, face to face, on my bookshelf. When I put them together like that, it seemed right. The one on the left is a soapstone turtle, given to me by a friend many years ago. The one on the right is a toy metal dragon, the English variety, with wings. I found this, several months ago, half buried in the dirt on our community property. I brought it back to my place, cleaned it up, and sent out word that I had found it should a child in the community be missing it. Apparently not. So there on my bookshelf sit a turtle and a dragon, communicating messages of dire importance for the future of the world. How we need their wisdom in these dark days!

Some will ask, “Did you see the deer in Nara?” No. I most certainly did not! I saw plenty of deer on Miyajima island and found them to be quite annoying. One picked up my notebook that I had momentarily set down and ate a page before I could grab it out of his mouth. Another, while my bag was zipped and slung around my neck, came up from behind, unzipped the bag, pulled out my trail mix, and had torn it open before I knew what was going on. The shouts of others warned me what was up. So, no, I did not see the deer of Nara, although I am sure they are better behaved than the pesky deer of Miyajima. I wasn’t willing to find out.

Instead, I saw a far more interesting sight, if a bit dour, and I only had to walk more than an hour, though the industrial part of Nara, to see it. Check this guy out:

This is Daruma Daiishi, otherwise known as Bodhidarma. He’s a fierce looking fellow in whatever depiction I’ve seen of him. Was he a real historical person, a myth, a legend? It’s like the saying, “If he didn’t exist, you’d have to invent him.” The fierceness is the important thing. He could frighten a guy into awareness! At any rate, he is purported to be an Indian monk who brought zen to China from India.

This “inspiring” painting is what I found at Sansho-ji zen temple on the outskirts of Nara.

I had made no plan for my visit. I knew there were temples and deer. I had not determined which of those places or pests I wanted to see. I arrived by local train from Kyoto on a cold and sunny morning. I settled down to coffee to make a plan. As has been my practice since coming to Japan, I checked to see if there was a Soto temple to visit. I have found these previous visits to be rewarding, providing me with a sense of the great tradition that I have stepped into at this later stage of life.

Back to Sansho-ji. Well, first I had to get there. I thought that I’d not walked near enough on this trip so how difficult could another few hours be? What made my mind up was sitting at the train station having my coffee and watching where everyone else was going. It was pretty clear. A stream of touristy looking folks were headed up one street. I found Sansho-ji on my map and duely noted that it was in the exact opposite direction. Mind made up! The route was other than scenic. One part at least was nicely rural.

I did not know what I would find. What I found was a temple much as I’ve seen before.

There was no human activity but the presence of pamphlets, information sheets and signage indicated an active zen temple, including information and activities for children. I wandered around trying to find where to go or where not to go. One has to be careful in these places.

I slid open a door and made my way down a few empty corridors without anyone noticing or caring. I turned a final corner to find that stern looking gentlemen facing me across the long meditation hall.

Thankfully, Bodhidarma’s gaze is slightly upturned. Had the artist painted him looking straight down the hall you couldn’t look very long into those eyes. As it is, it is really quite a stunning work of art.

The tiny dry garden at Sansho-ji is sadly neglected. As small as it is, it seems it could be quite easily kept up. I felt like bending down to pull a few weedy looking bits of greenery. That certainly would have gotten me into trouble!

Sansho-ji is not on anyone’s “must see” list for Nara. I was the only person there but I’m very glad I made the effort, being rewarded by the gaze of Bodhidarma. Ah, the things that make me happy these days!

I still had that long walk back into town where the deer awaited me. They will have to wait very much longer. Here is a short walking tour with commentary:

The way back to town was much more scenic than the “quicker” route that G-Maps picked out in the morning:

There are moments in travel that are not in guide books and cannot be planned. The memory of them may last far longer than those that are. I had one such moment this morning.

With an hour to wait for my laundry to dry, I walked out into the rain to find coffee. I came to a small place that had one other customer. I was greeted warmly and took a seat at the counter. A Harry Potter cup and coaster were placed before me. The woman behind the bar was wearing a pointed witches hat. What’s going on here?

A young woman came up and began talking to me, perhaps testing her English. We talked Harry Potter and agreed to our common liking for the young wizard.

I had begun my coffee and custard when the owners pointed to the front of the place to where the young woman had pulled out a violin. She was going to play and I had walked in at the perfect moment! She began with Leonard Cohen’s soulful, “Alleluia.”

She played several additional pieces, beautifully, including “Moon River” and “This is Halloween” (very spooky!) I stayed until it was time to get my laundry. I told Nasa that I had to go. As I was about to leave, she played a song for me, as she made clear, a serenade that was as lovely as could be. It was John Lennon’s Christmas song, my favorite.

A very merry Christmas
And a happy New Year.
We hope it's a good one
Without any fear.

Weeks ago, I was in some town. Who can remember which town? I was standing in a line to purchase something or other, probably coffee or ice cream. At the register, I was fumbling around with coins, trying to find the right combination of yen to pay. I don’t like making others wait due to my difficulties, large or small. My anxiety was obviously evident. I heard a voice behind me. “Slowly,” said the gentleman. I paid, turned, and thanked him, offering my best bow.

Wisdom from behind. A word I always need to hear. Slowly.

I had a slow day yesterday. I found a nice coffee joint in the morning. Then, there were a couple of things I wished to purchase to bring home. I wandered around in the shopping area where I am staying.

I’ve been on the lookout for a small Buddha statue for my home meditation area. I thought there could be nothing easier to find in Japan, especially Kyoto. Hah! They proved to be rare sightings!

Up and down the long covered shopping lanes around Teremachi arcade I walked, slowly, not wanting to miss the ever elusive Buddha and the enlightened path. Finally, I spotted him in a little shop I’d probably passed several times before and, at a good price!

Now, I must search for this one’s dharma brother, the enlightened Christ. I see little difference between the two, both having the ultimate goal of saving all beings. At least, that is how I see things.

Next, having given some thought to obtaining a Japanese flute to exercise my neglected musical talents, I went in search. I found some beautiful shakuhachi bamboo flutes, classical Japanese instruments, but at dear prices. Disappointed, I slowly wandered off to the Gion district, across the river. The alleyways of Gion are a wild mix of eateries, galleries, bars, and shops of all sorts. I happened on a dark and somewhat dusty looking antique shop. With some hesitation, I stepped inside. I was met with a fascinating assortment of old and intriguing this-and-that stuff. I spotted, down low, flutes all a-jumble. Could it be?

The shop owner, a little old woman, came out from the back. We went through these flutes. Most were small, four hole instruments. I believe these are “beginner” instruments. Well, what would I be but a beginner? Plus, I had no idea whether I would be able to get a sound out of one. Nevertheless, one of them looked in good shape to my untrained eye. The price was a bit steep. She took it from me, gave it and me the eye, and then lowered the price significantly. I agreed.

So far, I’ve not been able to get anything resembling a note – high, low, or in-between – out of the thing. I will practice and, slowly, a meditative lovely note will emerge, even if just one.

I vow to keep “Slowly ” in mind as I enter my last week in Japan. Later this week, I’ll be off to Tokyo. My guess is that Tokyo is not a slowly kind of place. Even if it is not, I am determined that I will be a slowly kind of person.