Trying longer meditation

I was a bit worried about the prospect of a two-hour session of sitting and walking meditation. I have gotten used to doing twenty or thirty minutes easily, and I sometimes do some chanting that could bring it up to an hour or so. Actually, I am not that interested in timing my sessions, but still, a two-hour session was an unknown. Looking around the internets, I have seen stories about people who freaked out after suddenly jumping into intensive meditation sessions.

Fortunately, the situation at the once-monthly two-hour sessions at the temple Enyuji is very user-friendly--you can come in or go out freely during the session. The priest, Rev Oka, said that the time would pass 'before you know it' or in Japanese 'a to iu ma ni.' He was right. He didn't do any howa, and we chanted some very short prayers and the Heart Sutra. The 700-year-old Hall of Shakyamuni was dark except for candles on the altar. We were sitting in two concentric three-sided squares facing the center of the square space. For the walking, we would bow while sitting, then stand and bow again, then walk in a square the same as the sitting layout, holding one hand in a fist in front of the chest, and the other hand around it. The sitting meditation, as explained by Rev Oka, is basically sitting in half-lotus, on a zafu, with hands in the traditional Buddhist meditation mudra, with eyes half-closed.

Also, Rev Oka recommends a counting system--one to ten, and just start over if you get distracted. So we settled in for four cycles, each with 25 minutes of meditation and five minutes of walking. The first sitting cycle was okay, my mind not too out-of-control. Standing up afterwards was a bit tricky. I was using a blanket, so I had to hustle to get my blanket out of the way where people wouldn't step on it. After sitting, just navigating as I walked was a bit tricky in the darkened temple. Also, the tatami mats have lots of dips and waves, so it required close attention. Also, there are some wooden frames that are part of the structure of the temple. You are not supposed to step on these, in traditional Japanese etiquette. So that was another factor to track. Also, I was in the outer ring so we passed between the altar and the sutra table. The first time around, I banged my leg into the sutra table. So that was another thing to pay attention to. However, the five minutes were over very quickly. In the second sitting, my leg fell asleep seriously. I couldn't get up and I thought I would let need to let some people behind me go past, but I recovered quickly enough to jump into my original place in line without too much delay. The last two sitting sessions were not difficult--maybe even a bit blissy. I began to get used to the tricky walking as well. I cheated a bit, starting to move my legs around a bit during the little delay as everyone prepares to transition from sitting to standing. After the fourth sitting, we did some small-scale stretching exercises and left the temple without further ado.

We were invited to the rest pavilion in the garden for tea and snacks. For once, there were some questions! Plus lots of pure social gab, but very mellow and pleasant. I think people are in a special frame of mind after meditation. That mood continued for me as I walked back home--20 or 25 minutes. So I will definitely go again. I think it is better than the shorter session, which has a short howa sermon, a bit longer prayer ceremony (also with the Heart Sutra), just one sitting and no walking. These sessions are just once a month, and there will not be any sessions during December--probably because December is the busiest month for everyone due to year-end obligations. But I feel very encouraged about this experience. (The pic above is the Hall of Shakyamuni at the temple Enyuji.)

The Athens of the persimmon belt

Do you like persimmons?

Have you ever eaten one? I had not even seen one, I think, before I came to Japan in 1978. They are really popular here. Growing up in the US, my father used to refer to his birthplace, Wheatland, Indiana, as 'the Athens of the persimmon belt.' I thought this was just a sarcastic reference to a small town that didn't have much to brag about. It turns out, the real persimmon capital of Indiana is Mitchell, which is maybe not far from Wheatland. Maybe they had a lot of persimmon trees in Wheatland. But still, I never knew anyone who had eaten a persimmon (unless my father used to eat them in Indiana).

Wikipedia tells us that there are many varieties of persimmon around the world. Some of the Asian varieties have 'kaki' (the Japanese word for persimmon) in their Latin botanical name. China also has many persimmon varieties. The wild variety in Indiana seems to be pretty unique in the persimmon world.

But what is all the fuss? My Japanese friends frequently cut up a persimmon to offer to a guest, but I was never impressed by the taste. I would challenge them, saying, 'Persimmons have no fragrance. There is no persimmon soda pop or persimmon-flavored candy.' I thought this would be persuasive, since most Japanese appreciate the aromas of foods as much as the taste. But my arguments did not work.

Many people have persimmon trees in their gardens. They are valued for their decorative value as well as the fruit. It seems that even within the same variety of tree, there are some trees that produce bitter persimmons, and others that produce sweet ones. Indeed, some persimmons have such high tannin levels that they are inedible (without processing to reduce tannins and increase sugars, like soaking the fruit in alcohol). But the color is very attractive, adding a bright accent to autumnal landscapes. Lately, some of my friends have had big harvests from their trees, big enough that they are ignoring my protests and gifting me with large amounts of fruit. (I think there is a similar situation with zucchini or tomatoes among US home gardeners.) So now I have a large haul. One popular tactic is to peel them, tie them on string and allow them to air-dry hanging from the eaves. I think a large part of the overall crop is eaten this way. But I am not going to go to that much trouble. I will just eat as many of them as I can while they last. One good point about persimmons is that they are considered delicious even when they have become soft enough to eat with a spoon. So, in that sense, they will last a long time. I wonder if I will end up liking them.

Don't discuss Buddhism!

I am facing the possibility of a return to the US. I have enjoyed the overall Buddhist-friendly environment in Japan, and I wonder what it will be like in the US. My current impressions of Buddhism in the US (or the 'west' in general) are pretty much from the interwebs. But here it is: English speakers on the internet like lengthy harangues about what they understand Buddhism to be. I'm not saying no one gets it right...I can't make that kind of judgement. But among the Buddhist practitioners I know here, no one gets into too much theory. Of course, if you want to know about emptiness, non-self, the Five Aggregates--well, just ask Google-san. There may in fact be some Japanese who talk about such things. But I have met very few. In the two meditation groups I hang out with, the approach is to recite a few traditional prayers and the Heart Sutra, either before, after or bracketing the meditation. Of course, there are some physical exercises, too. In the meditation class at the Shingon temple, everyone learns three of the mudras or hand positions. These (AFAIK) have very explicit meanings and functions in Shingon--part of the esotericism, generally not taught to lay people. These three mudras are not hidden from casual practitioners, but at the same time, there is not much discussion of them. The Shingon session also includes two mantras--the teacher gives a very quick and maybe vague summary of the meaning or intention of these. After the sessions (both the Shingon one and the zazen at a Tendai temple) everyone is invited for tea and cookies (actually sembei) afterward, with opportunities for questions. But, NO ONE EVER ASKS ANYTHING! Why do we have to hold our hands that way? What is the meaning of the mantras? No one ever asks. Why not? A lot of it is probably Japanese upbringing and etiquette. Questions have a tinge of challenge to authority. They suggest that the teacher maybe didn't do his job well enough. The Heart Sutra is so well-known, it is like the elephant in the room. No one discusses it. I would guess most people don't feel any necessity for understanding the sutra on an intellectual level, so just reciting in the context of a meditation session is enough. Maybe it will just soak in. Actually, I find this admirable.

My impression is that some westerners, especially of the Zen persuasion, are reluctant to do sutra recitations or anything ceremonial. Just sitting should be enough. Maybe they are right. But the Japanese don't even think twice about ceremonies--they happen all the time, everywhere, not just in religious contexts. I would guess that 95% of Japanese who visit a temple will drop a coin in the box and put their hands together in front of the temple or image. If everyone around them is reciting a sutra, they will do it too. Personally, I like this idea that the sutra will soak in (to some extent) just by reciting it. So, questions are not really necessary. Certainly it keeps the vibes very mellow. No contradicting, no 'yes, but...'. Very often, even a sermon (howa 法話）will be very mundane. The priest at the Tendai temple often uses anecdotes about the children in the temple kindergarten in his mini-howa before the meditation session.

I suspect that many westerners are uncertain about meditation, whether they are doin' it rite. So they like to ask a lot of questions. Why am I so fidgety? How can I control the monkey mind? And so on. On the other hand, most Japanese have had at least some exposure to meditation from an early age. Kids who go for karate or other martial arts usually start and end their practice sessions with a minute or two of silence. As people grow up, they realize that no matter how much you want to fidget, you shouldn't. Partly a matter of respect for those around you. Also, 90% (I don't really know, but it is a lot) of Tokyo people ride public transport. I can't really sleep deeply on an urban train making a lot of stops, but I stay in a meditative state for long stretches. Probably lots of other people do, a kind of non-religious meditation. As I age, I feel the necessity to geeze a bit, so I have to wonder about the next generation, even in Japan. I heard one aspiring meditator complain that after settling down for meditation, pop songs kept running through his head. Get those buds out of your ears, people!!

So, maybe I will find a group in the US that uses recitation and silence more than theoretical discussions. If you know any, let me know! (The pic at the top is my basic meditation set--incense and a candle help set the mood.)

A history of meditation (my own!)

I am not a meditation teacher in any sense of the word, but I want to go on the 'satisfied users' list. My comments will be mostly experiential.

Looking back, one of my earliest memories was trying to sort out my own consciousness. At age three or four, I once wondered something like 'what is this ''me''?' I wondered if I was really something separate from the world, separate from family and other people around me. Of course, memories from so long ago can be suspect, so grains of salt are necessary.

Sometime in my 'tween' years, I remember reading about self-hypnosis in some magazine, maybe Popular Science or something like that. Looking back, I realize now that the techniques in that article were related to meditation. But at the time, I just did a few sessions of closing my eyes (at least once I did it lying down), but nothing fantastic happened.

I remember the first time I heard the word 'meditation.' My parents were big fans, and also friends, of the minister at our church. His seat in the chancel gave the congregation a view of his profile. My mother noticed that he spent a lot of time with his eyes closed and head bowed. Her comment was 'I wonder if he is meditating or just sleeping?' Hmm...that posture is associated with prayer, but she said 'meditating...' Well, I didn't give it that much thought. However, after reading Faith of a Heretic by Walter Kauffmann, I gave up on Christianity, without too much concern about what might replace it.

In college, I took a trip to Europe, and at the port of Capri I met an English woman who had been on a sailing adventure in the Mediterranean. She told us that she was a meditation teacher. I didn't have a clear idea of what that was, but I was very curious. I hoped she would teach me! Now, I suspect she was a teacher of Transcendental Meditation, and probably would require a big fee to teach me. But anyway, I was intrigued. Lots of people at my university were talking about Zen and stuff. I bought a book by Christmas Humphries, Teach Yourself Zen. It had a lot of interesting stuff, but for some reason, I don't remember any discussion of meditation. Or maybe I didn't know that zazen was meditation? The one thing I remembered from the book was the adage 'When the student is ready, the master will appear.'

I was definitely a (college) student, but I was uncertain about the notion of having a master. In my third year in college, someone from a big Nichirenist organization invited me to a discussion meeting. I remembered the adage, and wondered if maybe this was my master appearing. I became pretty enthusiastic about it for a while, but I never made any connection between the chanting of Nam Myoho Renge Kyo and meditation. Now I believe they are closely related practices. But after a while, I had a lot of trouble keeping up the practice, and there were also 'political' problems going on in the organization, so I thought I might find some answers if I went to Japan.

In Japan, I did NOT find any answers related to chanting (although the basic problem was with myself, of course), and continued to drift away from it. At the same time, I began to come up against feelings of depression, middle-age crisis and so on. Among my books, I rediscovered my copy of Mind Control by José Silva. I had read through it earlier, with some interest, but no action. Well, maybe this was the time to take action. So I followed the most basic exercises, I believe it was just a few minutes a day for three ten-day periods. These allow you to become accustomed to the physical techniques for this method of meditation. For the first time, I could really feel that something was happening. I thought it was quite a discovery, although I was less interested in the more advanced techniques of the Silva Method, which are purported to develop psychic abilities and the like. But I started looking around the internets for more info on meditation, since I was now certain that this was a path worth pursuing.

Stumbling around the 'net, I came across the fabled E-Sangha, now lost in the sands of time. In its heyday, it was truly amazing. Beginners and advanced lamas/ajans/roshis intermingled in open discussions, with questions, comparisons, even some 'teachings.' It must have been the first time that practitioners of all major traditions had a chance to interact in various fora. In the Nichiren forum, I discovered that some people were continuing to chant NMRK and intone sutras without being part of an organization. Hey, I could do that! I still had my altar, candles and incense, so I started chanting again. In another forum, someone posted about an esoteric ceremony at Koyasan, a major institution of Shingon Buddhism. The ceremony was open to anyone, so I went. It was a real eye-opener. The atmosphere at Koyasan is amazing. It is an isolated town dedicated to Buddhism--no chain stores, no Starbucks, no karaoke, no neon, no pachinko. Maybe three out of four shops on the average street are related to Buddhism--shops selling rosaries and incense, makers of altars and fittings, sellers of greenery and fruit for offerings, and temples everywhere--more than 200 I believe.

Once E-Sangha had fulfilled its mission of introducing me to Shingon, the site foundered and fell off the web. (to be continued) (The photo above is the altar of Rengejoin ((dedicated to Amida Buddha)), the temple at Koyasan where I stayed. This temple also has meditation sessions in this hall, in very dark conditions. That seems to be part of it.)

Meditation II

Here is another unexpected consonance. In the Silva method, visualization is used with meditation to develop distant viewing ability, finding lost objects and so on. This was intriguing, but I wasn't interested enough to pursue it further. Then, as I learned about Shingon (the form of vajrayana Buddhism that was brought to Japan), I heard that visualization is used in Shingon meditation practices. That two different meditative traditions, completely unrelated--and one non-religious--would both use visualization suggests that it must be a very useful tool. However, I must clarify that I have not been trained in any meditative visualization in Shingon, so I don't have any direct experience of this.

At this point, I was doing some Lotus Sutra chanting and Daimoku, and on alternate nights doing some 'experimental' meditation. I tried various ways of meditating. I found incense to be very useful, and for a while, I even meditated with new age music playing in the background, just like Lisa Simpson! Sometimes I meditated in a reclining chair, but usually I used a zabu-type cushion in the half-lotus position. I found that the 'eye trick' from the Silva method was a big help in any kind of meditation. This 'trick' made meditation very enjoyable, and I began to worry about getting too much bliss, because some commenters on E-Sangha suggested that too much bliss meant you were doing it wrong. However, I have continued to use it.

Here is another point about the eye trick. It is useful when I have trouble falling asleep. I would occasionally feel like my thoughts were spinning so fast that it was difficult to go to sleep. In my Nichirenist days, I tried chanting the Daimoku silently while trying to go to sleep. Sometimes it worked, but usually I would get distracted by monkey-mind thoughts and stop chanting. Now, using the eye-trick, the goings-on in my mind didn't matter so much. I could sort of lock into the eye-trick, and my success rate has been very good since I got used to doing it. I really haven't had any big sleepless nights for several years.

There was (is?) one point about the eye-trick that concerns me a bit. Zen teachers advise looking down while meditating. However, with some practice, I could get into the eye-trick mode even looking down.

Here is another footnote. The Silva book spends several pages on scientific research related to the method. Observers found fairly consistent ability of Silva meditators to go into the alpha-wave state when they started meditating. Sleep researchers also note that alpha waves are the gate of sleep. One thing this means for me: if I try to meditate lying down, I am very likely to go to sleep. So sitting on the cushion, the trick is to develop just the right balance of tension and relaxation, keeping just enough power in the lower back to keep from keeling over, otherwise pretty relaxed.

After meditating on my own for a while, I screwed up my courage and went to the public 'Ajikan' meditation sessions at the Koyasan Shingon Tokyo branch temple. The Shingon expert on E-Sangha told me that Ajikan is a very advanced technique, and the method taught to the public is very simplified. However, I found it very enjoyable, if only for the chance of enjoying the mood of the Tokyo temple. I feel that the setting can help support your meditation. So I like a darkened room with candlelight the best, and incense is also great. The classes are really a kind of guided meditation, with the teacher giving a pretty constant stream of instructions (in Japanese). Even so, I found the eye-trick method also worked well. (The photo shows the main hall of the Koyasan Tokyo Betsuin.)

Meditation III

One day, I was walking around a neighborhood that I didn't know too well. I stumbled on a temple gate, so I entered the grounds. There was a Nio (two guardian kings) gate with very dynamic statues, with dramatic lighting at night. There was an old-looking temple, and using my incomplete Japanese ability, I read the plaque. The building, it turns out, is the oldest surviving wood building in the 23 central wards of Tokyo. It could be as much as 700 years old! However, it was tightly shut, and the windows were just very narrow slits. I tried to peek inside, and was intrigued by a Shakyamuni triad. Wondering how I might see the inside, I saw a notice on a bulletin board, advertising zazen sessions once a month. Zazen, of course, is Zen-style meditation, but the temple was part of the Tendai sect. Because of E-Sangha, I knew that Tendai had some elements of esoteric Buddhism, along with exoteric practices and I think, some emphasis on the Lotus Sutra. In fact, the plaque also informed me that the temple was founded in Tendai in the 9th century. In the 13th century, it changed to a Nichiren sect (also emphasizing the Lotus Sutra). Then, in the 16th century, it changed back to Tendai. So why zazen? These intriguing questions and my desire to see the inside of the Hall of Shakyamuni spurred me to show up for the meditation class. The priest doing the class was a young man, and it turns out that he was the assistant priest of the temple. His father, THE priest of the temple, had been called to the head temple of Tendai on Mt. Hiei near Kyoto. So the son, Reverend Oka, has been studying Rinzai-style zazen at a temple in Kamakura. I suppose that he felt this method was more suitable for public classes than esoteric Tendai meditation. Needless to say, the atmosphere in the Hall of Shakyamuni was fantastic. Rev Oka gave a short talk, very informal, partly based on his experiences with kids in the kindergarten run by the temple. Then he gave a brief introduction to zazen. Then, we did some Zen-style chanting before he turned off the electric light and we settled in to meditate by candlelight in a 700-year-old temple. After about 25 minutes of zazen, we chanted the Heart Sutra to end the session. (The picture at the top is the Hall of Shakyamuni, decorated for the New Year celebration.)

Horyuji, a great treasure of Nara

Horyuji

This fantastic temple complex may have been founded as early as 607 A.D. Apparently the temple was well-developed by the time of a disastrous fire in 670. There is some doubt about what exactly was damaged or destroyed in that fire. There is an official inventory which was made in 747. There are around 2300 buildings or objects of important cultural and historical value, among which are 190 designated as National Treasures or Important Cultural Properties.

The Nandaimon, or Great South Gate leads the visitor to the Western Precinct, surrounded by a wooden cloister, which contains the five-story pagoda, the Kondo Golden Hall and the Daikodo Great Lecture Hall. The lecture hall was burned after a lightning strike, and it was rebuilt in 990. The Kondo enshrines a very famous Shakyamuni triad. The Pagoda has deep relief sculptures, almost like dioramas, of the life of Shakyamuni and scenes of lectures and teachings by bodhisattvas.

One magazine article I read about Horyuji suggested allowing around six hours to see everything. That was out of the question for me, so I next went to the Daihozoin, the Gallery of Temple Treasures. This is a modern construction (1998) built in a traditional style, that is like a museum, with very welcome air conditioning. The objects in this museum are simply stunning. No photography of any statues or interiors of buildings is allowed. However, the Nara Tourist Association publishes very fine photos of a selection of images from various temples in its wall calendar. I took pix of the calendar, yielding poor quality images, but they give some idea of the statues in this treasure house.

Moving further to the east, I approached the Eastern Precincts, passing down a long avenue lined with earthen walls and gates enclosing smaller temples. Another major gate leads into the eastern precinct. The most famous building here is the Yumedono, the Hall of Visions. Many temples of this period have similar octagonal buildings, but this is said to be the earliest one. Another temple nearby is the Shariden, a temple where relics of the Buddha are enshrined. Neither of these buildings are open to the public, but the brochure notes that the Hall of Visions is opened for a short time in the spring and fall.

The pix always seem to come out in reverse order. At the bottom is the Inner Gate, forming part of the cloister around the Western Precincts. The two heavenly gods protect the gate. See an earlier post for pix of the Western Precincts. The next pic moving up is the avenue leading to the Eastern Precincts. The walls on either side are made of pounded earth and finished with colored clay. There are gates leading to smaller temples. The scene here is unchanged for a millenium. The next pic up is the gate leading to the Western Precincts. It is not grand, but it is in the typical style of Nara. The next pic up is the octagonal Hall of Visions. The two Buddha images are Shokannon, originally the central deity of the Hall of Visions, now it is viewable in the air-conditioned comfort of the Treasure House. Also in the Treasure House is a triad of Amida Buddha with two bodhisattvas rising out of a golden lotus pond. This triad is enshrined in a very interesting tower-shaped altar. By the way, I recently discovered that if you click on the pix in the post, you can see it displayed large. I'm still learning about Blogger!

Esoteric ceremony

Koyasan and kechien kanjo

結縁灌頂

The Koyasan Tourist Association put up a notice about kechien kanjo, scheduled for Oct 1 - 3, so I thought this might be time for me to write a bit about my experiences. Actually, the first time I went to Koyasan was to participate in the kechien kanjo. Koyasan Shingon Buddhism is a vajrayana esoteric Buddhism; kanjo ceremonies are a big part of it. 灌頂or 'kanjo,' is made up of two characters that mean 'sprinkle' and 'head' or 'peak.' In fact, there is a very tiny, symbolic amount of water sprinkled on the head during the ceremony--interesting parallel with baptism. In esoteric Buddhism, there are many of these water sprinkling ceremonies, called abhiseka in Sanskrit. For other ways to transliterate it, and for fairly reliable info about the Shingon ritual, Wikipedia is not bad:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abhisheka

The kechien part refers to forming a relationship with (a) Buddha. Fortunately, kechien kanjo is available to anyone who wants it. The only requirement is that you are doing it on your own intiative, and that you are a responsible adult. However, they don't even ask your name or anything.

Anyway, as a first-time visitor, just Koyasan itself was certainly impressive. There are other important Buddhist monuments in Kyoto, Nara and elsewhere. However, Koyasan is a pretty isolated community, and the whole town has some relation to Buddhism. There are no pachinko parlors, no Starbucks, no chain stores, no karaoke. Lots of shops selling altars, incense, rosaries and related stuff. Lots of workshops where artisans make such things. Not to mention, hundreds of temples, many of which welcome overnight visitors with splendid gardens, painted screens and fine vegetarian cuisine. So you really feel you are in a bit of a different world there.

The ceremony takes place in the Kondo or Golden Hall, where a statue of Yakushi Nyorai the Medicine Buddha is enshrined. However, I never saw that statue for two reasons. First, it is never displayed, the altar is always closed, because it is a hibutsu, a hidden Buddha never visible to the public. The second reason is, for the ceremony, the temple is lined with blackout curtains, so it is completely dark inside. The only light is from candles, so you can't see much of anything. Also, for much of the ceremony, you are blindfolded. So, step by step, you enter into the darkness. Completely blindfolded, you move about, guided by unseen monks. After the blindfold is removed, you have a one-on-one with a vajra master who helps you hold the kongosho, a vajrayana 'weapon.' This is where the practically unnoticeable water drop is sprinkled on. Next, you have a chance to offer incense to a whole pantheon of Buddhas and other deities. After all this, you emerge, blinking in the sunshine, seeing things in a new way, at least for a while.

Kechien kanjo for the Kongokai mandala is offered in October, and for the Taizokai in May. On the first day of the three-day period, before the kechien kanjo begins, there is a procession of priests, including the abbot of the head temple, wearing their robes of Heian period styling, with incense, shell trumpets, cymbals, with more accompaniment from the huge bell in the bell tower. A great photo op at the very least. After this procession, the priests conduct ceremonies in the Kondo that set things up ceremonially for the kechien kanjo.

I have added a short video of the procession. It was raining that day, so the procession was limited to the verandah under the eaves of the temple.

Another pic shows the Kondo from the side. It is a huge temple built in the traditional way, with no nails, just huge timbers fitted together. However, this building is from the nineteenth century, not so old. Koyasan is exposed on a mountain on a peninsula which gets lots of typhoons and other storms that come roaring up the Pacific coast. This means lots of lightning strikes, and lots of fires throughout Koyasan's history.

Nara Pilgrimage

World heritage sites

I was able to visit some temples, three in Nara and one in Kyoto, that date from the time of the earliest introduction of Buddhism into Japan. At that time, the location of the capital was shifted from time to time, for reasons such as geomancy, perceived threats or because of inauspicious accidents or disasters. Therefore, the seven major temples of Nara are pretty spread out over the area, and it is a challenge to see several at once. I wanted to see Horyuji, because it was one of the earliest ones, and Yakushiji, because I had seen two of the statues, Gakko Bosatsu and Nikko Bosatsu, when they were on display at the Tokyo National Museum. I added Toshodaiji to the list because it is within walking distance of Yakushiji. That was about the limit in terms of time (most of the temples close at 4:00 or 5:00 PM with entrance only until thirty minutes before closing, and also in terms of endurance, walking and seeing so much on such a hot day.

I jumped on the bullet train (shinkansen) in Tokyo around 7:00 AM, and got to Kyoto by around 9:00. It took another hour to get to Nara and then I took a bus to a different train station for a 12-minute ride to Horyuji station. I arrived there around 11:00 and checked the bus stop, but it was so hot I splurged on a taxi to the temple. The temple was founded early in the seventh century. The 'worship fee' is rather high, at ¥1000, but the images and buildings require museum-quality care, so it is reasonable. It is a lot cheaper than Disneyland, for example.

Yakushiji is not on the same train line as Horyuji, so I went to the bus stop to check on a bus. The next one was a 45-minute wait, so I headed to a noodle shop for a great, reasonably priced lunch of udon, rice, and vegetables. The bus to Yakushiji took about 30 or 40 minutes, but the bus stop was only about five minutes from the temple. Yakushiji was founded around 710, but was moved to the current location in 718 or so, because of one of the capital moves. The capital moved on again, and the temple today is in a very rural landscape of rice paddies and villages. This temple is the head temple of Japan's oldest Buddhist sect, Hosso.

It is only a short walk to Toshodaiji, the head temple of the Ritsu sect. The temple was established in 759 by Ganjin Wajo, who came from China to teach Ritsu to the Japanese. This temple is less splendid (it is not one of the 'big seven')--it has only one small pagoda, and the other buildings are fairly modest. But the objects of worship in the Kondo main hall include at least eight works designated as National Treasures (I didn't count them). It is a very quiet, green environment which seemed very ancient, and also relatively cool on such a hot day. The train station, Nishi no Kyo (western capital) seems to indicate a capital that has since moved. From there it was about an hour back to Kyoto.

The next day I headed for Toji, a temple in southern Kyoto, that was built around 794, when the capital was moved to Kyoto. There is a station called Toji, one stop from Kyoto on the Kintetsu line. Toji means 'east temple' and originally there was also a west temple (or maybe just plans for one); these were supposed to guard the southern approach to the city. However, Buddhism in Japan underwent a major shift when the monk Kukai, Kobo Daishi, returned from China, bringing Vajrayana Shingon Buddhism with him. The emperor was very impressed with Kukai, and entrusted Toji to him.

So I was happy that I could see four temples in just 1.5 days. I will put up more details on each temple in following posts.

The first pic shows the central garan of Horyuji, with the Kondo main hall and five-story pagoda. 'Kondo' means 'golden hall' perhaps it refers to the fact that Buddha statues are usually gilded. The second pic is the gate looking into the garan of Yakushiji. There are two three-story pagodas in this yard, but they have extra eaves on each story, so they look like they have six stories. The third pic is Toshodaiji, with the Kondo to the left, the Kodo (lecture hall) in the background, and a small tower, the Shariden next to a larger building that was originally monks' quarters.

'How-to' from a magazine

Ikkojin 一個人

Ikkojin is a monthly magazine about art, history and culture, with a slightly hipper, younger slant than the subjects might suggest. It is lavishly illustrated with great photos and dynamic layouts. The October 2011 issue features an introduction to Japanese temples. There is an article about the current exhibition at the Tokyo National Museum: 'Kukai and the art of esoteric Buddhism.' Another article surveys the head temples of 13 Buddhist sects. One sidebar is an outline of your basic temple visit--listing eight points, most of which I covered earlier in a much clumsier manner. You may find somewhat more detail if you look at older posts on this blog, but here is the magazine's outline (my translation, with additional comments by me in parentheses).

1. In front of the main gate (山門）put your hands together and bow (this is a way to mark off the start of your visit--'entering the zone' as it were. Of course, just going through the gate puts you into the zone physically; the gasho and bow are the psychological start).

2. At the ablution station (水屋）purify your hands and mouth.

3. Walk along the edge of the worshippers' path (参道）(I think walking along the edge is practical, to allow two-way traffic, and also to be more humble than to walk grandly in the middle of the path.)

4. Offer candles and/or incense. (I think the temples usually make a bit of profit on these, so it is a financial donation as well as being an offering from the heart.)

5. In front of the temple building, put some money in the box. (Usually one coin--I am usually feeling cheap, so I just put in ten yen. If I am feeling flush, I put in the first coin I take from my coin purse--it could be a 500-yen coin, worth more than five bucks these days. As I mentioned earlier, the amount is pretty much irrelevant, but probably it should be enough to make you feel good about it.)

6. Rattle the wani-guchi (鰐口）gong. (I didn't mention this earlier--it is a biscuit-shaped hollow gong with a slit opening halfway around the outer edge. The name means 'alligator mouth.' I didn't mention this earlier, because not all temples have them, and not many people use them--maybe the racket would disturb the calm temple atmosphere. I associate them more with shrines than temples, but that is just me.)

7. Place your hands together and offer a prayer. (At Pure Land temples, I have seen signs that say 'Don't make prayer requests.' We are protected by Buddha whether we request things or not.)

8. As you leave the precincts, turn toward the main hall and bow with hands together.

In the pictures, you can see a wani-guchi gong on the Hall of the Medicine Buddha--the red and white rope with the bead will sound the gong.

A water ablution station with a spout in the form of a double dragon. Water dragons support Buddhism even though, since they are not human, they cannot attain Buddhahood/enlightenment. However, a princely son of the dragon king was once netted by fishermen when he had assumed the form of a fish. Kuan Yin/Avalokitesvara persuaded the fishermen to return the fish to the sea, and the dragons have been grateful ever since.

The 'sando' worshippers' path at the temple Enyuji on a quiet day. The Hall of Sakyamuni could be six or seven hundred years old--at any rate, it is the oldest wooden building in the 23 central wards of Tokyo. There is a waniguchi hanging under the eave, above the donation box, but there is no rope for sounding it.

Here is a fantastic outline of Buddhism in verse form, by a modern Chinese master, translated by the great Shi Huifeng:Trackback-URL

More on temple visits

After entering the temple grounds, you can just look around and leave. However, there are a few more things you can do if you want to do a proper omairi. There is usually some kind of water facility for symbolic cleansing. Usually, it is some kind of pipe, often decorative, delivering water into a large basin. There are usually long-handled ladles on the rim of the basin. In places where crows or other birds are a problem, there may be some kind of mesh or other protective materials that you need to work around. Anyway, most of the explanations of the procedure suggest you take the ladle in your right hand. Take a dipperful from the basin and kind of swirl it as you pour the water on the ground near the base of the basin. (Be careful not to splash your neighbors if the situation happens to be crowded, like at Sensoji.) This is symbolically cleansing the ladle. Then, hold the ladle under the spout of the pipe to get the purest water. Pour a bit of water over your left hand, while you rub your fingers together. Shift the ladle to your left hand, and repeat the process, cleansing your right hand. Then shift the ladle back to your right hand. Pour a bit of the water in your left hand and bring your hand up to your mouth. Since it is only symbolic, it is not necessary to put the water in your mouth. * Some people take water directly in the mouth from the ladle. This is not recommended! * Then, take one more dip of the ordinary water and rinse your ladle before putting it back on the rim of the basin. I find this process is a way to express the desire to get closer to the world of Buddha. It is 'only' symbolic, but symbols are important. You may want to dry your hands and mouth with a handkerchief.

The next thing I do is check the incense situation. Large temples usually have a large incense burner in front of the main hall and in front of other important structures or statues, so you can check to see if there is a place to buy a bundle of incense. At Sensoji, you can get a bundle of incense for ¥100. There are hibachis with super-hot charcoal that will get your incense fired up. This is especially fun on a hot day! (Just kidding, but in winter, the heat is welcome!) Check to see that your bundle is completely ignited. If it is flaming, do not blow out the flames--it is better to wave you hand at the bundle to extinguish the flames. Then, being careful not to run into anyone, carry your bundle to the incense burner and place it upright in the ash bed. This can also be quite hot, so I try to do it as quickly and gracefully as possible. Then, face the main hall to acknowledge the Buddha inside. Some people will hold the incense in a gesture of offering before placing it in the burner--this is done more elaborately in other Asian countries, not so much in Japan. Visitors to Japanese temples like to believe that the smoke from the incense burner is good for them--they may pat the smoke onto a sore shoulder, or onto the head to hope for better performance on a school examination or something like that. This is one of those 'folk' traditions that are not really part of the doctrine, but there is little objection if people like to do that.

I haven't even gotten to the main part of the visit yet! But these preliminary procedures will make your temple visit more than just looking around as a sightseer. Some temples, like Sensoji, have lots of sightseers, so it is not such a big deal. But at a temple off the beaten path, it would be nice, and makes the locals feel a lot better, if you could add as much respectful behavior as possible.

My pix show the large incense caldron giving off a lot of smoke at the temple Zenkoji. Next, a water basin with a spout shaped like a dragon. The dragon is known as a supporter of Buddhism, and associated with Kannon/Kuan Yin. And another photo of single incense sticks in front of the main hall at Kenchoji in Kamakura.

Ancient temple in Nagano, Zenkoji

Zenkoji is certainly an important landmark. It was founded in the seventh century, before Buddhism divided into many sects. Currently, Jodo Shu (Pure Land) and Tendai priests run things there. I stepped into the main hall around noon, when a service was being conducted by Jodo priests, including recitation of the Nenbutsu chant to Amida. A lay volunteer approached me, speaking very good English, to explain some of the features of the temple. A bell rang, and he said 'You are very lucky, the curtain on the altar is opening.' I could see the curtain opening, but not much else. The curtain closed immediately. It is very dark, and the main image of the temple is a 'hibutsu' or secret Buddha, meaning that it is not displayed to the public. In this case, even the high priests have not seen it. It is in a backpack-type bag (for quick evacuation in case of a fire or something) inside two more box-like altars. So I may have seen the outer box or something. The statue is said to have come originally from India, by way of Korea. There was a feud or struggle of some kind, and in the kerfuffle, the statue was thrown into a canal. A man named Yoshimitsu was directed by some kind of vision to find the statue in the water. He retrieved the statue and established the temple, which uses the kanji for his name, pronounced in the Sino-Japanese way.

Another famous feature is the dark underground passage. My informant asked me to confirm and keep in mind the location of the altar. Then, he pointed out a stairway leading down into darkness. Keeping your right hand on the wall, you descend into the darkness, which represents death. Keeping on into the darkness, and remembering the location of the Buddha, you can find a door right beneath the altar. Because the Buddha is in the Pure Land, this door could be considered the door to paradise. There is a heavy old-fashioned lock that you can rattle and manipulate to express your desire to get there. Then, because you are not really dead, you ascend back into the world of light. There is a mirror conveniently placed so you can see if you changed in the process of symbolic rebirth.

My informant also recommended a visit to the three-story pagoda in the garden. The building is concrete, a bit of a disappointment, but it has many interesting things inside. Possibly most important, the Dalai Lama came to Zenkoji and made several offerings including a sand mandala. This mandala was made to be permanent--the video shows the monks using what looks like glue on the surface where the sand will be sprinkled. Zenkoji pulled out of the 2008 Summer Olympic torch relay in protest of China's Tibet policies. This may be one reason why the Dalai Lama came to visit. In addition, you can get close to some very old statues, and view explanations of some of the preservation and restoration processes. There are several old plaques which I didn't understand well--maybe offerings of some kind?-- and also a room where you can do 'shakyo' or sutra copying.

This temple is definitely worth a trip, if you are a hard-core Buddhist. It is fairly easy to get there from Tokyo, either on the Nagano shinkansen bullet train, built for the Nagano Olympics, or a highway bus.

Who knows how long my current series on visiting Japanese temples will continue? Anyway, by chance I had a great experience that gives me an excuse to move over to the 'tea' side of this blog! The other day, I took two visitors to see the famous Honmoku Sankeien garden. It was once the estate of a wealthy silk trader, a man who was interested in the tea ceremony and old architecture. So he made an impressive collection of tea pavilions, temples and villas to decorate his huge garden. It is now owned by a foundation and is open to the public for a fee. So, in preparing to enjoy all this, we stumbled on a rest pavilion that included a tea ceremony experience. The building was very modern, with big windows looking out on the greenery and a pond. A tea master, (who was a woman--it still kinda bothers me to use 'master' for a woman, but 'mistress' is completely wrong, so I will compromise and refer to her as 'Sensei.') There was a set up for 'nodate' style tea ceremony, normally served outside. There was a bright red umbrella and benches covered with red baize, the usual for nodate. I bought three tickets and we sat at the very front to watch our Sensei at her craft. There were nice sweets decorated with a scene of the garden's famous pond, boat and three-story pagoda, said to be specially made in Kyoto. As we finished our bitter foamy bowls of liquid jade, the room was mostly empty. So Sensei said 'Would you like to try?' She let each of us make another bowl of tea, doing her best to guide us through the elaborate procedure, dealing with our clumsy unfamiliarity. She was very friendly, although fairly scant English ability. She pointed out a calligraphy plaque mounted on the umbrella pole, with a very simple flower arrangement of white hydrangea. There was also a little picture of a bird painted on the plaque below the calligraphy. Sensei told us that it was common to see this bird, called a 'kawasemi,' around the ponds in the garden. I realized afterwards that in addition to doing the calligraphy, our Sensei probably painted the bird picture too. (By the way, kawasemi is a riverine bird that looks a bit like a kingfisher--translating the names of animals, plants and so on is a tricky business, so I won't even try!) I forgot to ask her name, but she told me that her tradition is 'Edo Senke' which means 'The Edo (=old name for Tokyo) branch of the Sen tradition.' 'Sen' is Sen no Rikyu, considered to be the founder of the tea ceremony.

The pix show a bowl of liquid jade, a small sweet (each person got two, but I ate one before I took the pic), and Zoe making tea.

Inside the gate

Temples serve various needs in Japanese society, and there are many ways they do this. The stereotype Japanese temple concentrates on selling expensive funerals and cemetery plots. It's true that Buddhism has been pretty much the 'go to' for funerary needs since the early days. One interesting thing about Buddhism in Japan is that it denied the supposed 'pollution' of death that existed in native religion. So that sounds good to me. On the other hand, the image of Buddhism in Japan was such that a satirical movie was made about greedy funeral directors and Buddhist priests, and clumsy family members. However, in my experience, Buddhist priests are very compassionate, flexible and comforting. Anyway, it is true that lots of temples basically exist to take care of the funerary needs of their congregation. These temples mostly do not allow tourists. I met a Zen priest in Hokkaido that spent most of every day going around to homes to conduct memorial ceremonies--in Japan, these are not finished with just the funeral ceremony. There are ceremonies for 7 days after death, 49 days, one year, three years, seven years and on and on. Not everyone does all of these, but there were enough in Hokkaido for my friend to be pretty busy with just that. So in the most extreme case, this kind of temple won't even open its gate. Still, some people will come there and put their hands together (gassho 合掌）in front of the gate. However, many of these temples open their gates, and anyone is free to walk in quietly and do a gassho in front of the main hall and any Buddhist images that may be visible (and put a coin in the box, of course). Beyond that, you may be able to peek inside a sanctuary, either through a glass panel or through the slightly opened door. It may be possible to remove your shoes and step inside in some cases. If by chance you should have a conversation with anyone there, avoid terms like sightseeing, I just wanna see it, and so on. Please use 'o mairi shimasu' （お参りします）which indicates worship. Indeed there are temples which welcome sightseers (and their money) but for the sake of form, it is better to use 'haiken' 拝見 a more polite form of the verb 'to see.' In fact the first kanji of haiken means 'to worship,' suggesting that seeing the Buddha is important, and also that polite language in Japanese has ties to Buddhism.

At the other end of the spectrum are temples like Sensoji in Asakusa. It has no congregation and no cemetery, therefore none of the income support from those sources. However, great crowds are always there, and you can walk into the main sanctuary with your shoes on. The donation box is roughly the size of a flatbed truck. On New Year's Day, I shuffled slowly in a huge crowd for an hour or more to get into the main hall for Hatsu Mode 初詣, the first visit of the new year.

Here are some pix: a very quiet neighborhood temple, and Sensoji on New Year's Day.

Temple gate

For a long time, I was a bit shy about walking into a temple--do you have to be a member? Will somebody ask me what I am doing? All kinds of questions. Now that I am a bit more used to it, I thought I would write about some of my experiences. How does one visit a temple? A good place to start is the gate of the temple. Most temples have traditional roofed gates--now that I think of it, Tsuki Hongwanji has a more ordinary gate with no roof. But the traditional gate is called the sanmon 山門 meaning 'mountain gate.' Every temple is considered to be a mountain, regardless of its actual geographical situation, so the gate to the temple is the mountain gate. The pictures show the famous Kaminari Mon or 'Thunder Gate' of the temple Sensoji in Asakusa, and the two guardian figures in the gate of the temple Enyuji in Meguro. The gate has an important symbolic function. In fact, the one in Asakusa never closes, and you can enter the temple area easily without going through it. But going through the gate symbolizes one's intent or desire to visit the temple for Buddhistic purposes. Actually, lots of sightseers go through temple gates as well, but if you are interested in Buddhism, going through the gate can enhance your experience. The temple grounds are a kind of mandala, which is demarcated from the mundane world. Most often, gates have guardian figures that are supposed to keep anything evil from coming in. Kaminari Mon is famous for its two statues, the god of wind and the god of thunder. The god of thunder is surrounded by drums, and the god of wind is portrayed with a kind of cape or something blowing dynamically in the wind. Most temples have more generic guardians, but one thing in common is that one has an open mouth, the other a closed one. The open mouth is said to be saying AH and the closed mouth is saying UN. These sounds symbolize complete protection since they are the beginning and end sounds of a syllabary 'alphabet.' Also, the first sound a coming from our mouths when we are born is AH (or maybe Wah!) and as our last breath leaves us, we say UN. So, as you go through the gate, be sure to check out the guardians--they are usually very dynamic sculptures, and also you can reflect on the protective aspects of Buddhist iconography.

A better view of temple music

I found this video through a friend. It is a video introduction of Housenji, a Jodo Shinshu temple in Osaka that also has a gagaku group. At around 3:30 you can see a group of priests playing the instruments, much more clearly than you can in my video!　

The YouTube channel where this came from has several similar videos. The title of the series means 'A Walk in Osaka' and features Jodo Shinshu temples in Osaka. These are 'real' videos--that is, with editing and everything!

http://youtu.be/AXQZGchwGr4

Music at the temple

In for a penny, in for a pound. I confess--I also took some videos at Tsukiji Hongwanji. In addition to the pipe organ, the temple sometimes has music supplied by musicians of the genre known as gagaku 雅楽, a very ancient tradition imported from the Asian mainland in the tenth century or so. One of the oldest orchestral traditions in the world. The performance at the temple was more in the line of a chamber ensemble of two instruments--the hichiriki 篳篥 a double reed horn similar to an oboe, but it kind of squawks like a goose, and the shou 笙, a reed instrument that might be called a mouth organ, but much different in shape from a harmonica. The reeds, with graduated pipe resonators, are mounted on a round wind box into which the player blows. There are holes that the player covers with fingers to produce the sound. Like a harmonica, it is sounded on both inhale and exhale. Maybe with the right tuning, you might be able to play blues on it. In traditional music, it sounds to me like it came from outer space.　Pix attached, borrowed from unrelated websites--thanks!

A walk around Tsukiji pt II

Another landmark in the area is Tsukiji Hongwanji, which is a branch temple of the famous Jodo Shinshu (know also as Shin Buddhism) temple, Nishi Honganji in Kyoto.

http://www.tsukijihongwanji.jp/tsukiji/index_e.html

This building is also post WWII, and is neo-Indian, although the interior of the main hall is traditional Japanese style, although done in concrete and other non-flammable materials. Another distinctive feature of the temple is its pipe organ. Not a very ambitious one, but worth it for the novelty, I think. At an English-language service there one time, I had my first experience of congregational Buddhist hymn-singing accompanied by the organ. However, the other day, I was in for a shock--the altar area of the main hall has been walled off for reconstruction. The posted construction plan started March 1, so it seems to be unrelated to the earthquake. They set up a temporary sanctuary in another wing of the building, also very beautiful in a simpler way. As I sat there, drifting in and out of a meditative state, a priest led people in for consecration of Buddhist images they had purchased, with a bit of bell-ringing and sutra chanting and a short Dharma talk. One time, I sneaked some pictures in the main hall, showing the elaborate altar--felt a little bit guilty, although there is nothing posted there about photos, but I didn't ask anybody either. But I am glad I have them--I wonder if the new altar will be different.

A walk around Tsukiji pt I

I took a walk around the Tsukiji area the other day. It is famous for the fish market, where tourists can go to watch the tuna auctions, smoking, touching the fish, getting in the way of forklifts, etc. The area is also known for a couple of other things. One is St. Luke's Hospital, one of the earliest modern hospitals in Japan.

http://www.luke.or.jp/eng/index.html

It was started by a missionary who was from Rome, Georgia (USA, I am guessing here), but the website doesn't specify what kind of missionary, which branch of Christianity. One can only hope he was from the one true religion--you know, the Western Branch of American Reformed Presbo-Lutheranism! Haha! I stole that joke from the Simpsons--thanks, people! But seriously, I have been here more than 30 years, and never once went to the hospital--meaning, I never had a serious health problem, never needed English-language health services, etc. Which is a good thing, but I found a very nice neo-gothic chapel that is certainly worth a visit. It is in the oldest existing building, which looks like it dates from after WWII. Most neo-gothic architecture in Japan is wood, but this is stone, with stone vaults and everything. There is also a nice organ, from the late 1990s, I hope I can catch a concert there sometime. I didn't have my camera that day, so check the website for pix.

Is Japan a Buddhist country?

There seems to be lots of confusion on this point. Part of it is the social meaning of religion, maybe a slightly different definition. Or, say, exclusivity. It is true that the Japanese will most often turn to a Buddhist temple for funerary needs. For weddings they might go to a Christian (or faux Christian) church or a 'shinto' shrine of native gods. So maybe it is fair to say most Japanese are not *exclusively* Buddhist, but even many Buddhist clergy accept this and do not find it strange. It is also fair to say that not many Japanese Buddhists go to the temple once a week, sing hymns, make a monetary offering, listen to a sermon and then come back for the same thing the next week. For one thing, Buddhist temples were around before the seven-day week in Japan! The Japanese sense of order requires a decimal system wherever possible, so a 30-day month was conveniently divided into three ten-day periods. It is still common for temples to have regular services at ten-day intervals, for example on the eighth, the eighteenth and the 28th. But even weekly or monthly temple attendance is probably low on the list of priorities for most lay Buddhists. The services might feature sutra recitations and a sermon (法話 'houwa' in Japanese, corresponds to 'Dharma talk'). There are some temples that actually have congregational hymn singing, but most of them don't, I think. Even more than attending services, for most people the most important thing is to drop a coin in the box even if you are just passing through the neighborhood temple grounds on your way somewhere else. The polite thing to do is pause in front of a temple or statue, put your hands together (合掌 'gasshou') with a bit of a bow, and drop a coin in the box, which is placed out in front for your convenience. The value of the coin seems to be completely irrelevant. Maybe lots of people are cheap like me, putting in the smallest coins except on special occasions--something people never talk about! LOL I have never heard of anyone stealing from these offering boxes--some security efforts are made, but they are minimal. Either thieves don't want to mess with small denominations of coins, or maybe they are Buddhist in the sense of knowing it is extra wrong to steal from a temple.

That being said, if you keep your eyes open, you can see signs of Buddhism everywhere. Major roads in Tokyo that have been highways since the old days still have many old statues of Jizo, the protector of travelers, still lovingly tended with fresh flowers, offerings of water or sake, and red caps and bibs. Even the business areas filled with office buildings have small temples tucked away here and there. Once you are aware of such things, you can feel a fairly steady Buddhistic 'hum' as you travel around the country.