Autumn In Japan

I am sitting here surrounded by the tombs of Buddhist ancestors at Kotokuji Soto zen temple high above Matsumoto city. It is wonderfully peaceful here though I can hear the shouts and sounds of the city below. There is no one here but me.

Kotokuji is an old place, established in 1441. The temple buildings and grounds are lovely and spacious. I had to hail a taxi to get up here but the driver had no idea where it was, as if no one comes here anymore. After a minute or two fumbling around with his GPS he managed to believe that the place was not a figment of my imagination.

Sitting here surrounded by the tombs of Buddhist ancestors I began to consider who my spiritual ancestors are. There are, of course, my Christian ancestors, many of whom still inform my religious imagination. But are these who are memorialized here, from another land, another time, and another spiritual tradition, mine as well?

I believe they are. I believe that the life of the Spirit is one great stream flowing into one great ocean. We merge our lives together at many places and times along the way.

However, it is odd to feel at home here and not only because it is calm and beautiful. I get the sense that they, should they rise up from these sacred grounds, would bow and welcome me.

Postscript:

After writing the above, I walked back down into Matsumoto City and came to this street (pictured) where I now sit having a cool beer on this warm day. I happened on this sign. Note that this street where I sit was on the Zenkoji Kaido, a route that connected Zenkoji Temple in Nagano and Kyoto. The monks of Kotokoji, though situated up the hill from this old street, could as easily have walked down to this street as I did just a short time ago.

This is Tokio, from Matsumoto. We were introduced by Elan, our mutual friend in Seattle. Tokio treated me to a wonderful day in the area around Matsumoto, including Azumino and Omachi. While out and about, we visited buildings he has both built and renovated and saw many of the pieces he crafted.

Tokio is a master woodworker. We visited a new home project that he collaborated on the design and met with the two guys who were doing the construction work. Sitting in that space, I couldn’t help thinking of my father who, as a carpenter and cabinet maker, spent many days on projects like this.

We are outside his workshop from out of which he created so many beautiful works of art as pictured below, all at his “Penguin House.”

If Sophie and Mikkel should happen to read this, they will wonder how I so did not get their drift. For, in fact, I felt inspired talking to them but inspiration doesn’t always translate into comprehension.

Nevertheless, here is what I heard or understood, no what they actually said.

Sophie and Mikkel are researchers at the University of Applied Arts in Vienna. We chatted after dinner at the place we were staying at in Nikko. They told me what their research was about but, I must admit, I really had no clue in spite of nodding vigorously as if I did. That, however, was the uninspiring part.

The inspiring part came when I told them that my granddaughter, Audrey, was going to study neuroscience at Western Washington. This, too, is not inspiring, at least not to me. But, let me be clear, Audrey herself IS inspiring to me! They, however, were immediately enthusiastic to let me know that neural science is a fascinating field of study that somehow relates to whatever obscure work they are doing in the realm of digital something-or-other. Was it “digital” or some other such field of human endeavor?

Anyway, the inspiring part is coming. They mentioned philosophy and Descartes. They have the impression that Descartes is still relevant. I had thought that his, “I think, therefore I am” was just a quaint remnant of the philosophical past. I guess not.

Anyway, as I understood what they were saying, the creative underpinnings of neural science are rooted in Descartes. I can’t begin to fathom how but, since they were real nice and seemed to be good people, I believed them.

I have been telling Audrey, only somewhat facetiously, that the real money and fame were to be found in the philosophical arts. Of course, rolling of eyes ensued.

Here is where I’m just going to guess at what Sophie and Mikkel were implying, that Descartes conclusion was just a beginning of what must be explored using all forms of creative energy from many and varied sources. Neural science is a piece of that, maybe a big piece. However, better than just a “hard science” it would best serve the world in collaboration with a diverse array of artistic fields. This is the kind of thing they do, or I guess that’s what they do, at the University of Applied Arts in Vienna.

How, you might ask, does this apply to me as I travel Japan and how is it inspiring?

Creativity itself is inspiring. All forms, all fields. The idea of a network of collaborative network of sciences, informed by the work of artists, writers, sculptors, musicians, actors, makes me, anything but a science guy, inspired.

Before I began my trip I was told that I would meet interesting people. Enter, Sophie and Mikkel.

This was the scene yesterday morning at Rinnoji Temple, Nikko. World Heritage Site. As with all great attractions around the world, it was a mass of humanity and tour buses. Except for the tour bus, I was one of them. Neither rain nor snow, etc. will keep us from taking pictures and wandering aimlessly around.

I struggle with this aspect of travel. The sense of chaos, no matter the beauty or magnificence of a place, sacred or profane, jars me from fully appreciating where I am. It can feel like “checklist” travel. At this place of very impressive Japanese/Chinese architecture – a sacred place for the Japanese people – I couldn’t escape the feeling of wanting to get out of there and find a calm place to sit and absorb the feel of a place beyond the crowds. 

Before writing this, I was on a jam-packed local bus headed up to Lake Chuzenji, one of those must-see places in the Nikko area. I’m glad I’m here but, and this is just me and something Carol would always get annoyed with me about, I’m already anxious about the mass of us who have to get back on those buses this afternoon. She was so much better at living in the moment.

Remember those dharma gates I wrote about earlier? I’m sure you do! Well, here I am staring at another one and wondering how or if I will walk through it to the other side.

The iconic bridge over the Daiya River in Nikko. This, made even more iconic with the backdrop of the forested landscape and mists of the receding rain. Sadly, the audio portion is filled with the sounds of traffic. Sorry. Can’t have it all, I guess.

I’m not exactly sure what this is except that it is like a sumi circle or the circle of life. It stands before one of the shrines of Nikko, so I believe it is an entrance into the sacred. People there were bowing before walking through, some in gassho, some not. Then, they would walk around it and do it again, and then one more time. So, I did the same. I suspect it is of Shinto origin, but I brought only myself to it.

It stands as impermanent when seen against the “permanent,” albeit beautifully constructed, gate behind it.

If it is meant to be a gate into a sacred realm, then it was probably not appropriate to have my picture taken in front of it.

About another of the shrines, I asked whether I could take pictures. I was told I should take pictures only from the side. Doing so directly in front was forbidden since “God was there.” I will always try to respect these beliefs of others. They do not harm me, and I can still appreciate the meaning they have for me.

This was the first course of my dinner at Morinouta, the terrific little place I’m staying at in Nikko. Just pick the little trout up by the skewers and start in, head, skin, bones, tail, and all. I was congratulated on making it as far as I did, and it was good!

This was my private onsen in Nikko. What a wonderful way to unwind after a day of wandering through the Nikko rain.

I’m not sure what the occasion was, but  interesting to find them all just outside my hotel in Morioka.

If you are in your hotel, need to do laundry on the 4th floor but you are on the 9th floor, do you go down there hoping a machine will be available only to find one is not? Not here! You just turn on the television and scroll down to this screen that nicely tells you that there is or is not a washer available. As you can see, by looking at the fourth one over, my laundry is happily sloshing away (washer/dryer combined, of course).

Here’s my nice little sun room in Nikko. I want that green laid-back chair (not adjustable), which would be excellent for taking an afternoon nap.

“It’s raining cats and dogs” probably isn’t a way of putting it in Japanese, but it’s true, today, nonetheless.

The goodness of having the wherewithal and the time to spend on a long trip is that a day of rain does not mean a problem or anything of the sort. At least, that’s the way I’m feeling this morning, sitting here in the lovely “sun” room of the place I am staying.

I will venture out a bit later -rainpants, rain jacket, umbrella – to visit a few of the temples that are designated World Heritage sites. Afterward, I’ve been informed that there is a nice little craft brewery nearby that I suspect I’ll also visit. One must have a sense of balance in one’s life, right?

I know this is a Bill Murray movie title but it fits here. (Pic is of a rainy morning in Nikko.)

I am finding that Google Translate is a terrific tool for communicating. Not only am I using it but people here are mostly familiar with it too. Yesterday, an old cab driver (about my age, I suppose) pulled out his cell and began talking into it for my benefit.

I do have to be careful or it might backfire on me. A couple days ago I was literally lost, having walked quite a ways down a road before I realized that it was clearly not the road I had walked just the day before. Was I paralleling that road or going in a completely different direction? The landmarks were not there.

There was another old guy (pretty sure he was older than me) outside his home, a bit stooped. I whipped out my cell, opened Google Translate, and asked, “Am I going the right way?” Of course this was ridiculous as he had no idea where I was trying to go! I made the dumb assumption that he intuitively knew where I wanted to go.

So, he read my message, I think, and clearly looked perplexed. He finally indicated that, yes, I was going in the right direction. Pretty sure he was just hoping I would go away. So I gave him a pleasant, “Arigato,” smiled, and left him to his peace.

Was it the right way? I’ve been asking myself that, in typical Zen fashion, since. I finally made it back to where I needed to be but only after pestering two young women waiting for a walk light to help me know where I was at. They were so kind that they missed their walk light.

What does it mean to wonder if one way or another is right? Now, I won’t blame you if you stop reading here cause I’m gonna go all stinky Zen, but this is what novice’s do.

I’m beginning to think that the idea of “being lost” is one of those “Dharma gates.” Now, instead of trying to find some great definition of what a dharma gate is, I’m just going to make up my own. Here goes: A dharma gate is a way through to the real. So, in this case, was “lost” my reality? I was just there, standing on the road, looking around, wondering whether to turn right or left at the next corner or just keep going straight. That was the reality of the moment. That was it.

My feeling lost was a gate I needed to pass through. I didn’t know it as that in that moment. I just wanted to get back to my hotel. I don’t think I went through the dharma gate then but, thankfully, it remained open for me and, this morning, two days later, I believe I saw it for what it was. Was that old guy perplexed or wise? Perhaps an old Buddha plopped down there to provide some wisdom for the situation?

I don’t have an answer to this. Seems that dharma gates are not there to help one find answers. They, too, just are. May I walk through them and have, then or later, the insight to continue to find my way.

This lovely couple gratiously friended me while I was having a beer at a place on the Kitikami river. Their English was far better than the three or four Japanese words I know but often forget in the stress of the moment.

They were in Morioka for his team’s rugby matches with the Morioka team. In spite of a sore back, incurred during the scrums, skirmishes, and general mayhem, his team won, of course.

In Japan I am a minority, a situation I don’t often experience. The Japanese people are invariably kind and patient. That helps a great deal but the limitations and difficulties of communication are always evident.

Thus, it was wonderful to have this couple reach across the vast divide of our tables and begin a conversation, leading them to eventually invite me to come one table closer.

If only world and national diplomacy could be characterized by such willingness to engage in friendly and mutually beneficial dialog, in spite of differences, what a world it might be!

Kanpai, Saori and Masahiro!