Yesterday was Sunday, so, of course, it was time for yet another whirlwind tour with Tatsuguchi Sensei. We were quite ambitious: we went to Koyasan, the huge tantric Buddhist headquarters more than two hours West of Kyoto. The trip necessitated three trains, the Osaka subway, and a cable-car up the side of the mountain. That meant we had to get off early, and unfortunately, I couldn't sleep the night before. But no matter—the thought of seeing Koyasan was too exciting for me to get sleepy during the day, though Tatsuguchi Sensei fell asleep on the train coming back.
We started off by going to Osaka. Even though Osaka is not very far from Kyoto and is one of Japan's largest and most important cities, I rarely go there and have spent no time exploring. What can I say? I like Kyoto. But Osaka has plenty to recommend it if you have the time. We didn't, so I only snapped a few pictures while we changed trains. Because we have a pretty librarian amongst our readers, I offer this shot of the Osaka Library, on an island between two of Osaka's many rivers.
Getting to Koyasan was only part of the trouble. Once there, it takes a good amount of time to ride up the mountain, first on a small train and then in the cable-car. It amazes me to think that this was a major pilgrimage site in pre-modern days (and still is today), since it must have taken at least a full day, maybe more, just to reach the complex from the base of the mountains. And it gets worse the higher you go: the cable-car goes up the side of mountain at an angle of about 50 degrees.
The temperature on top of Koyasan was noticeably cooler than I've experienced in Kyoto. Tatsuguchi Sensei wore long sleeves and eventually put on a sweater, but I had on a short-sleeve shirt and loved it. The cool air felt invigorating and is probably part of why I never got tired. It just felt so comfortable to me. My apologies to Kristen, who dreads that I might move us somewhere cold: that cool autumn air felt like coming home, which is surely a dangerous omen of sorts.
Koyasan is actually a collection of more than 100 temples and a gigantic graveyard, the largest in Japan. Naturally, I spent the bulk of the time in the cemetery. This may seem odd, even morbid, to people who haven't spent a lot of time in Japan. But Japanese religion most especially centers around the cemetery, specifically, around the dead, and their continuing relationship with the living. Cemeteries are the site of family reunions and have neither the spirit nor the connotation of sadness, futility, or spookiness associated with them in America. In fact, it is in the graveyard that you can best see Japanese religion reveal itself. In the temple, there is a certain standard and orthodoxy that is maintained. But in the cemetery, the influence of lay religion and folk belief is often stronger, and hidden details of how the Japanese understand this world and the next are brought to light.
One interesting aspect of Koyasan's cemetery is that many Japanese companies have their grave sites here. In Japan, a company is rather like a family in many ways, and when employees die they often are interred at the company grave site. Here are some of the more interesting examples at Koyasan. First, an air and space company's grave site:
Next, a tomb erected for the spirits of termites killed by an extermination company.
And here is the company grave site for Kirin Beer, complete with a statue of the iconic kirin:
The cemetery meanders all over the place, including a long stretch through an ancient part of the forest, with many graves that are themselves extremely old (the temple complex was founded in the early ninth century). You see a great variety of stones, Jizos, Buddhas, stupas, and other images all the path. I thought this Jizo was particularly cute.
Kristen, Mom, and Dad might find this tomb familiar looking. It is a chedi, like what we saw in Thailand and Cambodia. It is closely related—this is the Burmese style. This is the grave site for Japanese soldiers who perished in Burma during the Pacific War. Inside is a white Burmese Buddha. Included in this picture, though perhaps too small for people to pick out, is a much smaller stupa for the horses of the Japanese who died in Burma. However, there is a conspicuous constituency that is left out here: all the Burmese who died under Japanese occupation.
The Japanese aren't always so ethnocentric, however. Not too far away is another grave site, for those who died in Borneo. It is specifically dedicated to the spirits of the Japanese, Australians, and Bornians who died during the conflict, and flies the flags of all three nations.
Mizuko kuyo is ubiquitous throughout the cemetery, which is what drew me there in the first place. So prevalent is it that one can find a wide range of motifs, some of which are novel to Koyasan. One such is this makeshift stupa-mound created entirely out of mizuko jizos:
Again, one shouldn't think of the cemetery as a ghastly site in Japanese religion. Often, one finds surprising humor in the graveyard. Take this broken Jizo, for instance, who has lost an important part of himself at some point:
You can just hear him singing the old song, "I ain’t got nobody. . ."
Back at the actual temples, there is an area for mizukake: throwing water on statues as an offering. There are about a dozen large statues set up with a constant line of devotees hurling water onto the figures of Jizo, Kannon, and Buddha.
The path leads finally up to a very special temple. The lanterns inside this temple have been burning continuously for about 1200 years, and in the back is a hut where Kukai, the founder of Koyasan, is said to be deep in continual meditation. He has been meditating back there since 835 CE without dying, so they say, and no one is allowed to see him lest they disturb his meditation.
One of the most unique mizuko statues I saw at Koyasan, indeed one of the most unusual I have seen in Japan, is a set of three Jizos. Each holds a mani (wish-fulfilling) jewel in their left-hand, which is the basic motif of Jizo. But the jewels of these three hold fetuses inside, like wombs! Very unusual, I have only see this motif one other time.
Despite the feminine face and shawl of this image, it is Jizo, not Kannon.
At another temple on Koyasan, we encountered two fierce guardians. The first is a typical angry guardian god, warning evil spirits not to bother the monks inside.
His partner seems to be more aloof. He can't even be bothered to snarl at pitiful evildoers who try to get in. They can just "talk to the hand."
Yet another temple was dedicated, surprisingly, to Shinran, Honen, and one of Honen's major disciples. None of these men where tantric monks—indeed, all specifically said that tantric Buddhism is not effective. Nonetheless, they have all been given grave sites at Koyasan and even a joint temple in their honor. I'm not sure how honored Shinran would be: both his grave and the temple that enshrines him are sites for all sorts of magical practices that he decried as superstitious and exploitative. Perhaps mercifully, he receives the least attention of the three figures at this temple. Honen's disciple, who was an aggressive warrior before Honen converted him, is the top dog. This makes sense, since that warrior mentality is well suited for tantric Buddhism. You can rub his helmet (presumably a replica) in the temple worship hall, it cures headaches.
Kongobuji is the main temple at Koyasan, the head temple of the entire Shingon sect with its 3600 temples in Japan (and a few abroad, such as one in Los Angeles that Kristen and I have visited). It includes beautiful screen walls and a nice sand garden, and you can go into the old kitchen, something you rarely see at other temples.
After a long day, we left and made our way back to familiar territory. In Osaka we stopped for some sushi, and I snapped a photo to continue the theme for Dad of KFC in Japan. Here, Colonel Sanders is helping to celebrate a festival with a spray of ginko leaves and a sign advertising how good his fried chicken smells.
