Anakashiko

Pictures on Shutterfly

2007-02-02T13:16:00.000-08:00

Several friends recommended Shutterfly to us for posting baby pictures. So instead of using this site, I have set up a Shutterfly account and will use it from now on to post new pictures. I have tried to send the announcement to everyone I could think of, but since I can hardly think straight at the moment, I'm sure I've missed some folks. So if you want the link to the photo album (I'm already updating it with new photos), just send me an email and I'll share it with you. You can use my hotmail email address: jwilson403 at hotmail.com.

Baby update

2007-02-01T19:20:00.000-08:00

We are home! Kristen has improved dramatically and they released us from the hospital this evening, just in time to hit the rush hour traffic. She is able to walk around (slowly, cautiously) and we think her milk is coming in. Although she is no longer in any danger, it will be a couple of months before she is healed, and in the meantime she is less mobile, more depleted, and more fragile than we counted on going in to all of this. However, that's not a big deal compared to the alternative. Meanwhile, Tai is still doing well. He isn't the best at nursing, especially because he is so strong that he can squirm away whenever he is brought to nurse. But, he's learning. He cries now when he is upset, but not very loud and not for too long. Overall he has a very quiet and sweet disposition.

Here is a picture from yesterday (Wednesday) of me holding Tai.

Here is a picture from yesterday of Tai sleeping in the post-partum room that we shared. The puppy was a gift from Kristen's long-time friend Jesse, who just moved to West Hollywood from Minnesota. Good move! The bunny was a gift from Kristen's uncle Jon in London.

Here is a non-baby picture, but I liked it. The flowers came from my mom and from our friend Alicia, but I mainly wanted to show the little Buddha and little Jizo that accompanied us in the labor and delivery room and the post-partum room (Jizo also hung out with Kristen in the ICU). I got the Jizo at Yatadera, a tiny temple inside an indoor shopping arcade in Kyoto last year. He is the protector of children and mothers.

Here is another sleeping picture of Tai. I just wanted to show the Happy Birthday balloon that Jesse brought with the puppy. We were really touched.

And here's a close-up of the baby as he lies in his bassinet at the hospital, wondering how in the world he got into this mess.

Kristen's mom Laura has been with us since last Wednesday and was present through the entire ordeal. She's been so helpful and has made this expereince somewhere between a thousand and a million times better than it would've been otherwise. She's great with the baby and great with helping new mom Kristen adjust to all these unfamiliar responsibilites.

And finally, here's my aunt Christy, the first person from my side of the family who got to hold Tai. She came by this afternoon, it was great to see her. Although he's making a grumpy face the baby liked her.

Tai Emerson Wilson

2007-01-30T18:03:00.000-08:00

Announcing Tai Emerson Wilson! Tai was born at 8:37pm on Monday, January 29, in the Santa Monica hospital. He is 8 lbs, 3.7 ounces, and 20 inches long. Kristen had a very long, hard labor, and there was significant bleeding afterward. But Kristen was eventually patched up and is recovering well in the intensive care unit. In the meantime, here are some pictures!

Tai, about two minutes post-birth:

Tai being weighed, 8 lbs 3.7 ounces:

Tai, a few minutes old, swaddled and being held by Jeff:

Tai was immediately alert, looking everywhere at once:

Kristen on Tuesday in the ICU, spirits are up, with a picture of Tai:

Tai and Daddy on Tuesday in the nursery:

Tai hanging out in Jeff's arms:

Close-up of Tai through the glass of his crib:

Koyasan Revels

2006-10-08T20:41:00.000-07:00

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.

Surf's Up

2006-10-03T06:25:00.000-07:00

Yesterday found me back in the Teramachi shopping arcade. There are so many temples tucked away in here that it has taken me several afternoons to uncover all of them. Fortunately, I also uncover other useful and interesting things as I do so. One of the newest finds is Fujiyama Café.

This is one of the new-style internet cafes, going well beyond what we in America think of as an internet café. The old-style in Japan is known as a manga kissa: a comic café, where one pays by the fifteen-minute period to sit around and surf the internet or read from a large collection of comic books, all while imbibing free drinks. The new-style is more of an internet hotel/spa than a café, really. These are much larger operations that provide many services, of which internet access is merely the most basic. The sign indicates some of the pleasures available within.

It is open 24-7, provides free (non-alcoholic) drinks, and zillions of comic books. Rather than sitting in an open room with lots of computers, you have your own (tiny) cubicle with privacy, where you surf and play computer games. But you also get a television, so you can watch videos or DVDs, and a Sony Playstayion game console. You can order from a large menu, everything from French fries to full fried-chicken or Japanese-style meals. You can take a shower, get an in-room massage while doing email, send faxes and print documents, go in the other room to play slot machines, or order a pillow and blanket and take a nap for a couple of hours. Not only that, but you have a wide assortment of room types to choose from, so many that a printed map is required.

You can have a standard room with a chair and a desk, a room with a lazy boy, a room with a couch, a room with tatami, and more. Once you make your choice, you follow the map to your room (there are about 100), passing the endless rows of comic books.

The main room is dark and full of low cubicles, with a giant paper lantern and an honest-to-god Japanese sand garden under glass for a floor.

Vaguely New Age music cycles nonstop at a low volume. I always opt for the regular room.

Nothing fancy, and again, tiny as can be. Sometimes you can hear people in other cubicles struggling desperately to get out, wedged between the chair, desk, TV, and their bag. If you get hungry, just lift the phone receiver and food will be delivered to you. If you want to stretch your legs, go out in the hall and get a drink. You can serve yourself a decent variety of sodas (no, there is no Diet Coke) and Japanese drinks, tea, or somewhat less common fair, like this automatic corn chowder dispensing machine.

There are other interesting sites in the shopping arcade, of course. Here is a picture for my father, who really wanted to eat some Kentucky Fried Chicken while in Japan, just for the bragging rights. It is a dream unfulfilled, so I guess he will have to return once again in the future. In the meantime, here is a KFC with Colonel Sanders decked out in samurai garb.

I am here to see temples. One of the more interesting is Takoyakushido. The entrance is right between two stores, as usual.

This is not a large temple, though they tend to be somewhat deceptive, receding back much further than one realizes unless you go behind the main altar. Often there is an entire cemetery back there. The Japanese do not consider it odd to do their shopping in a mall filled with graveyards and holy buildings. Anyway, there are various small shrines in here. The that attracted me, of course, is a mizuko Jizo one to the right of the main altar.

But the distinctive aspect of this temple is indicated by its name. Takoyakushido translates as Hall of the Octopus Buddha of Medicine. Yes, that is not a typo. Here is some proof:

Rub this wooden octopus and you will be healed. You can also buy ema (wooden plaques) painted with octopi and write your wishes on them. There are a number of versions of the story behind the founding of the temple. Basically, a young monk went to the market to get some food for his ailing mother. He bought a live octopus and carried it home to nourish her. On the way, he was reviled by some bystanders for intending to kill a living being (this is against the Buddhist precepts). But the monk had a vision of the Medicine Buddha, who told him that because his action was motivated by compassion it was not faulty. In fact, the tale implies that the octopus was actually the Buddha taking on a form to help out. To commemorate the vision and the healing of the mother via the octopus, the temple was established.

Things have not changed all that much since that story took place many centuries ago. Here is a small restaurant in the Teramachi shopping arcade. Notice the huge number of dishes available. Each is a different kind of seafood.

This is a take-out restaurant. People who get food here typically go right home and eat it. Why? Well, think of the story, and if you still need a clue, here is a close-up of part of the sign.

Another famous temple in this area is Seiganji, a Pure Land temple included in the list of the six Amida Buddha temples in Kyoto pilgrimage (I have been to all six at this point). The large Buddha is easily seen from the street. I hate to be sacrilegious, but really, despite the impressive altar set-up, there is something just a little spooky about his eyes.

You can buy just about anything in the world in this mall, from traditional Chinese herbs to designer handbags. As Halloween is coming up, some stores are selling masks. This one offers traditional scary figures, such as Frankenstein, Terminator, and Buddha.

It also offers rude t-shirts and, as you can see on the right, a Japanese item that really has no ability to cross the cultural gap. It is called Transformation Cute and involves Adolf Hitler dressed as a schoolgirl. I won't try to explain, some efforts are truly futile.

Temples are not the only holy sites in the mall. It also houses what is surely the world's smallest Christian church.

In fact, only the top part is a church, the bottom is a café. The cross glows neon red at night.

Finally, here is one more mizuko picture. This comes from a small temple around back of the mall that specializes in mizuko. The little old priest was so surprised to find a Japanese-speaking gaijin in his temple that I had to repeat everything twice to get an answer. I would say "What sect is this temple?" and his eyebrows would rise all the way off his forehead and hover in the air while he murmured in utter astonishment "A gaijin said What sect is this temple." Then I would say exactly the same thing and his eyebrows would return to his face and he would provide the answer. Next, I would say something like "Is this a statue of Kannon?" and again the eyebrows would levitate while he muttered in awe "A gaijin said Is this a statute of Kannon." I would say it one more time and get the information I wanted. And so on and on. Anyway, here is a picture of the main statue with offerings. It is Mizuko Kannon, the compassionate bodhisattva who saves aborted fetuses and treats them as a mother, surrounded by Grover, Snoopy, and Disney characters.

How to Ruin a Perfectly Good Picture

2006-10-01T07:09:00.000-07:00

I downloaded some of the pictures Tatsuguchi Sensei has taken during our many travels together. Among them is a surprisingly huge cache of pictures of me standing next to, under, or in front of various things. A typical outing involves four to seven temples, all with multiple interesting sights, all of which I am apparently required to have my picture taken by. So far, I have resisted the temptation to flash the peace sign, which every single Japanese person does in every single picture, unless they are feeling more sober, in which case their only other look is to stand straight as a rod and glower at the camera. I kid you not.

Anyway, for your amusement are a very small percentage of the pictures that have been taken of me in the past two months. I thought it was funny in this first one how Tatsuguchi Sensei managed to accidentally make me the identical size as the forty-foot high statue in the background.

This one was taken at the Genbaku Dome, the historical monument at the Hiroshima Peace Park. This day was schizophrenic to say the least: a trip through the hell of the atomic bombing, followed by madcap temple visiting with Tatsuguchi's brother (aka the Buddhist priest who drives like a total madman), followed by a homey family dinner where I was made to drink and drink until I had forgotten virtually every word of Japanese I've ever learned.

Here I am in front of a temple that specializes in mizuko kuyo, the ceremony I'm here in Japan to study. It is in a suburb of Osaka and we found it utterly by accident when we missed our bus and then I noticed an ad for this temple on the back of another bus bolding proclaiming its expertise at exorcising aborted spirits. Yes, it's true, I wear Hawaiian shirts during my fieldwork.

And finally, here I am in front of an Obaku temple in Uji, where a complete version of the Buddhist Canon is stored on printing blocks. It looks like I'm about to get clobbered by the long branch of the pine tree in front of the temple.

Don't get me wrong, Tatsuguchi Sensei is terrific and I really love doing research with him. But I think I'll stick to my own pictures—somehow my sweaty presence just doesn't seem to add to the mystique of these holy sites.

Shopping Mall Temples

2006-10-01T06:58:00.000-07:00

It rained more or less nonstop today, so I didn't get further than the internet café and the grocery store. Luckily, yesterday was relatively productive. Among other activities, I went to the big covered arcade mall on Teramachi. I was there to hunt for books, but I also stopped in a few temples in the mall. That's right, there are temples in the mall, more than a few, in fact. They were here long before the mall, and gave the area its name. But you have to keep your eyes peeled for them. For instance, the entrance to this little temple—named Sendenin—is barely wider than a person.

And this is the more accessible entrance: the front entrance is actually located in the back of a tea shop that faces the main street, so you have to go into the shop, pass the cash register, and walk through a hole in the rear wall to access the temple.

Sendenin belongs to the Jishu, a relatively small school of Pure Land Buddhism. People duck in here on their way through the mall to pray for various things, such as happy children or their deceased ancestors.

Further into the mall, I found another temple. Once again, the entrance is wedged between shops.

Seishinin is a Shingon temple—Japanese tantric Buddhism. Once you proceed down the low hallway, it opens suddenly into a very large open space with a big wooden temple and a graveyard.

There were a number of interesting statues here. One worth mentioning is this seated Kannon bodhisattva, the personification of compassion.

Behind her are many smaller Kannon statues. Each one is destined to be bought by a donor to serve as a monument to a deceased family-member (only a handful have been bought so far, as the statues are obviously new). Now, one reason to call attention to it is that to the untrained eye, it looks rather like the Mizuko Jizo statues I have highlighted earlier on this blog. Don't get fooled! Just because there are a lot of small, identical Buddhist statues lined up somewhere doesn't in any way make them mizuko.

Similarly, here is another Kannon, this time from Kannonji, a subtemple of Sennyuji.

Kannonji is one of the stops on the Kannon pilgrimage tour, and I saw plenty of pilgrims at this temple. This Kannon is sheltering to small figures who gave up at her trustingly. From a distance, you might think they are the babies portrayed in Mizuko Jizo or Mizuko Kannon statue motifs. But if you look closer, you'll see that these are actually two elderly people. This is the Kannon who ensures a quick and painless death with Alzheimer’s Disease or incontinence. Like mizuko, these easy-death figures have sprung up since WWII and become quite popular. The Japanese have a very long lifespan these days, and acutely wish not to be a burden on their families in their later years. So they go to these statues and pray to die swiftly and cleanly. Notice also the small statues around and beside the Kannon, which again could be mistaken for mizuko if you didn't know that they were for sudden death. It's interesting when you think about it: these two nearly identical motifs, evolving side by side at the same time, deal with persons who were prevented from being born and those who wish to die.

Kannonji sells another popular item related to the anxieties of aging. What do you think this is?

As a matter of fact, it is a pillowcase. But not just any pillowcase. This one has been specially blessed by tantric monks to prevent senility. Here's how it works: as you get older, your memory starts to fade. So you go to the temple and purchase one of these pillowcases for 1000 yen (around $9.50). Then you put it on your pillow at home rest your head on it every night when you sleep. It will prevent you from losing your memory. Best part about this Buddhist scam: if it doesn’t work, you won't remember which temple ripped you off.

Here's a random picture from Sennyuji I meant to include the other day. This tree was struck by lighting a long time ago, but its corpse remains standing like a skeleton’s finger pointing accusingly at the sky.

On my way home from Teramachi, I stopped in a convenience store to grab some food. When I came out, a middle-aged lady approached me and began asking me in Japanese if I live in Japan. Turns out she is from an evangelical form of new Buddhism and wanted to proselytize me. She gave me two tickets to a movie/lecture here in Kyoto by her group, designed to introduce people to their sect.

I thought it was an interesting experience and talked with her a little before biking back to the Center. I did not tell her that I'm already aware of her group and find them to push the boundaries of even a flexible religion like Buddhism. After all, their leader claims he is a Buddha and has received mental communications from intelligent plants on Venus. I mean, please—we all know that Venusian vegetables are nearly as dumb as all those talking marmots on Pluto. . .

Back on Track

2006-09-28T04:54:00.000-07:00

I've neglected the blog, since Kristen and my parents came to visit me for two weeks. But now that they've returned and I've gotten things back on track, I thought I ought to start writing again.

As usual, many days are taken up by whirlwind tours of Kyoto or nearby cities with Tatsuguchi Sensei. This past week alone I've been to about 25 or so temples, maybe more. One place we went was Uji, an old town south of Kyoto (but not very far, closer than Nara, which is actually in the next prefecture). Uji has some important historical temples. None is more important that Byodoin, one of the most beautiful and architecturally-influential of all Japanese temples. Byodoin was designed more than 1000 years ago to resemble the Pure Land, the Buddhist paradise which represents the positive, blissful side of nirvana. The wide, open structure faces onto a pool, and inside there is a large golden statue of Amida Buddha surrounded by flying bodhisattvas and apsaras on clouds. At night, a light is shone on Amida's face and it reflects in the pond, suggesting the all-embracing light of the Buddha that encompasses both this suffering world and the Pure Land of true reality.

Inevitably people who send me email ask, "So, what is Japan like?" Well, I guess the best way to put it is that Japan is the sort of place where you can come out of the grocery store onto a side street, turn around, and see this coming RIGHT AT YOU:

I found myself in the midst of a matsuri, a Shinto festival that shows no respect to the distinction between street and shrine (or temple and shrine, for that matter). First the long, long dancing dragon came up the street and danced in the middle of the busy intersection, stopping traffic utterly. Behind him came a float carried on two long poles by women. They chanted their enthusiasm while hopping from foot to foot, making the bells on the float jingle as they circled back and forth in the intersection. Then came the men, carrying an even larger float. The two groups went around and around in the intersection surrounded by people celebrating. The noise was unearthly and the phrase "barely controlled chaos" came to mind repeatedly. Here are the two floats (women in the foreground) in the middle of the street.

Here's a close-up of the ladies' float. As you can see, they have a couple of men in strategic positions lending a hand. On the front sits a monkey holding a Shinto jagged flag.

And here's the men's float. The birds on top of the floats are ho-o, the Japanese version of the phoenix. Notice the large golden bells.

When they exited up the side street, the women put their float down on a wheeled cart and pushed it up the street. By the way, I saw that one of the women was actually a gaijin (foreigner), which was nice. The men just carried their float up the steep, steep hill, grunting and shouting the whole way. Their destination was Sennyuji, a major Shingon temple. Shingon is the Japanese version of tantric Buddhism, akin to the Buddhism of Tibet. At the temple, the two groups repeated their display of shouting, hopping, and bell clashing as they circled back and forth before an altar with several monks in bright robes. When they finished, they sat down to watch the dragon dance.

The dragon chases a spinning ball, which he wants to eat. Actually, the ball represents money. Why dragons want to eat balls of gold was not something anyone could explain to me, but they seemed to think it was perfectly reasonable.

Yesterday, Tatsuguchi Sensei and I went to Uji again, to Manpukuji. This is also a majorly famous and important temple, the headquarters of the Obaku school of Zen. Obaku is not as large as Soto or Rinzai Zen (it has about 460 temples), but it is very historically important. Among the reasons it figures so large in Japanese history is the complete set of the Chinese Buddhist canon housed in a nearby sub-temple. The scriptures were brought from China by Ingen, the Chinese monk who founded Obaku and helped spur a reform movement in Japanese Rinzai Zen. His Japanese disciple Tetsugen decided to have printing blocks of the entire canon made, so it could be printed and distributed throughout the Japan. He traveled all over the country for years collecting donations. Finally, he had enough for the project. But a famine struck, and rather than printing the holy scriptures, Tetsugen decided to use all the money to buy food and distribute it to the hungry. After the famine abated, he once again traveled back and forth across Japan, collecting money for the printing project. Just as he finished, once again famine struck, and he again decided to buy and give out food instead. Finally, he made a third epic trip collecting donations. This time Tetsugen's project was successful and the printing blocks were made—60,000 in all—one of the most significant events in Japanese religious history. It took eighteen years from when he first set out for donations to the completion of the final woodblock.

They are still in use. When we arrived, a worker was using them to make new copies of the sutras. First, he uses a cloth soaked in ink to put ink onto the printing block (which is written in reverse). Then he uses a brush to remove the excess ink, laboriously smoothing the block over and over again. Next, he takes a sheet of yellow paper and precisely places it over the block. Using a flat, round implement as you can see here, he rubs the paper many times to carefully transfer the image onto the paper. When he is done, the process begins anew. It takes the five-man team eight months to make one complete new printing of the canon. Ordinarily pictures are not allowed in the sacred hall, but I asked and received permission to take one photo.

At Manpukuji, I saw a large wooden fish which is used as a drum. Most are small and very stylized, but this one really was what it said it was.

In a nearby sub-temple, we saw two large Daruma. Daruma is the mythical founder of Zen Buddhism. According to the legend, he came to China from India with the secret teaching of the Buddha. No one understood him, so he meditated in a cave for nine years. Naturally, sitting cross-legged staring at a wall for nine full years doesn't exactly help your circulation, and in folklore it is said his arms and legs fell off. Also, he cut off his eyelids so he wouldn't fall asleep (the discarded lids turned into tea plant seeds when they hit the ground, and thus the cultivation of tea—a caffeinated beverage—was said to have begun). In Japan, you buy a Daruma and make a wish, painting in one of the eyes. When your wish comes true, you paint in the other eye of Daruma out of gratitude, and often donate him to a temple. The Daruma on the left is especially interesting, however.

On the front it says "Ichiro" and next to it is a picture of Ichiro, Japan’s most famous baseball player. Apparently, this Daruma is for people who want to grow up and become major league players. You wish for good baseball skills, paint in an eye, and then set forth on your career. This may not seem like your idea of Zen, but in fact this is the common side of Zen Buddhism, with meditation and inscrutable puzzles being a rare, almost fringe side that mainly has symbolic value, not actual practice.

After Manpukuji, Tatsuguchi Sensei and I hopped the train back toward Kyoto and got off at Roku Jizo, just barely within the southeastern city limits. We headed over to Daizenji, better known as Roku Jizo Temple, a famous though not especially large or prosperous Jodo Shu temple. The Jizo here is very old, despite its new paint job, and was originally one of six guarding the six entrances to Kyoto in olden days.

We climbed up on a small hill overlooking the temple cemetery and admired the view of southern Kyoto. This is much closer to how the city looked once upon a time, with few tall buildings to obstruct the view.

I also go out on my own, of course, and it was on such a trip that I found this odd fellow. Readers will recognize him as Hotei, the fat “laughing Buddha” found in Chinese restaurants in the West (and Chinese temples, if one ventures into such a place). In Japan, he is one of the "seven lucky gods" who bring good fortune. But this one is somewhat different.

As you can see, jolly ol' St. Hotei has a hole in his belly! I had never seen this motif before, so I went inside the temple and asked about it. As it turns out, this Hotei will bring your children good luck. All you have to do is pass your baby through the hole in Hotei's stomach while wishing for fortune. That's right—you put your baby through the hole. I didn't ask whether you do it front to back or vice versa. In a weird way it's almost like Hotei is giving birth.

This temple was on Teramachi-dori: Temple Town Street. It is aptly named: there are dozens of little temples on this street, all relocated here by Hideyoshi when he was redesigning the city. On this stretch at least, all are Jodo Shu (Pure Land) temples, but on the more northern part there is at least one Soto Zen temple as well. Teramachi-dori is nowadays also known as the place to go to get electronics.

On the same day, but a slightly different part of the city, I went to Rokakudo. This is one of my favorite little temples. When Shinran became disillusioned by his twenty years of practice atop Mt. Hiei, he came to Rokakudo to do a 100-day strenuous practice in hopes of receiving guidance. Sure enough, on day 95 Kannon Bodhisattva appeared to him and gave him a revelation: "If it is your karma to sleep with a female, I will become that woman and support you during your life. And when you die, I will lead you to the Pure Land. Go find Honen and learn the path of nembutsu." Quite a revelation for a celibate monk! Shinran did indeed find Honen, learn the nembutsu, and end up becoming the first married monk in Buddhist history. Because of his vision, he regarded his wife (a nun) as a bodhisattva. Meanwhile, she too secretly had a dream that Shinran was a bodhisattva, and treated him accordingly. Surely this was not your typical marriage! Their descendants are the current leaders of Jodo Shinshu (True Pure Land Buddhism), the largest Buddhist denomination in Japan.

Rokakudo is a small temple but very nicely put together, with a tasteful blend of old and new. I snapped this picture of a kitten at the temple's pool/waterfall, where large carp swim lazily in the clear water. I call it "Wishful Thinking."

Japanese Fauna

2006-08-29T19:45:00.000-07:00

Although most of my time is spent in the city, I still see a fair number of animals every day. Of course there are pigeons and the cicadas call all day long, but there is lots of other wildlife too. One thing I have noticed though is a seeming lack of squirrels. I could've sworn they had squirrels here but I haven't seen one.

I thought it would be fun to post a few pictures of animals in Japan. I'm leaving out dogs and cats, just wild animals for now. A couple will already be familiar, since I've posted pictures of them before. For instance, temple gardens and parks almost always have koi (carp).

And turles are a common sight there too. I've seen several types, but the most common ones look nearly identical to our American painted turtles.

If you go out back of the temples and look in the cemetary (something I virtually always do), you can often find little lizards with bright blue tails. Don't let their tiny legs fool you: these things are fast! This picture actually came from the top of a mountain in Hiroshima prefecture, which I visited this past weekend with Tatsuguchi Sensei.

If a temple has a water garden, and many do, then dragonflies can be a common sight. Some of them are huge, larger than any I've seen in the USA. This one was sitting on a giant lotus in a large pond planted with thousands of lotuses. The pond is supposed to be a vision of the Pure Land, I think, though I never thought about whether there would be bugs in the Buddhist Western Paradise. The scriptures say that no one is born there as an animal, but then again, they also say that the Pure Land is full of birds with beautiful Dharma songs.

And speaking of birds, there are certainly plenty of them around. The most common are gigantic black crows. Little song birds flit about all over the place too, as well as sparrows. On Miyajima, an island in Hiroshima prefecture, I saw some interested shore birds by the sea. One was a large heron on the ferry dock.

Another was a small egret who, along with several friends, was picking at crabs and other creatures exposed by the low tide.

In Japan, deer are considered the messengers of the gods, and at many shrines they live peacefully without disruption by humans. In fact, they tend to be semi-tame and regularly eat out of the hands of visitors. The whole island of Miyajima is a sanctuary for deer.

On my trip to Hiroshima, Miyajima, and Yamaguchi, I stayed overnight at Tatsuguchi Sensei's temple. In the morning, the grounds were full of tiny little toads hopping about. They're well camoflauged and you'd hardly notice them if they didn't move.

Back to bugs, of which Japan has an abundance in the summertime. The butterflies here are amazing. They seem to often be larger and more beautiful than American ones.

At the same time, there are moths who opt for the opposite approach, preferring camoflauge to osentation.

There are many large, brillantly colored beetles, too, as well as several species of bright flying insects whose name I don't know. This is actually the drabbest beetle I've seen so far, but he's the only one who stayed put long enough to photograph.

Finally, with all the insects around you know there have to be some hungry spiders nearby. The most interesting ones spin webs with concentric rings that really stand out.

This last one is another species of spider, a big one that I saw in the shade of a temple.

A Sentiment We Can All Get Behind

2006-08-27T23:08:00.000-07:00

Going to Market

2006-08-25T01:47:00.000-07:00

Established in the 8th century, Toji is one of the oldest temples in Kyoto, and with its five-story pagoda—the tallest in Japan—it is an enduring landmark for the city. Kukai (aka Kobodaishi), one of the most famous monks in Japanese history, was abbot here, and he established it as a center of tantric Buddhism.

I visited Toji last year with Kristen, but on Monday I returned because it was time for the monthly Toji Kobo-san market. There were hundreds and hundreds of stalls running in all directions throughout the huge temple complex and out into the various small streets surrounding the temple.

People came both to shop and pray. A popular icon was Kobodaishi dressed as a pilgrim.

Another was a big image of Yakushi Nyorai, the Medicine Buddha, shrouded in the darkness of a large hall.

There were so many items for sale I could hardly list them all here. Buddhist images competed side by side with pornography, sometimes on the same tarp. There were lots of food, clothing, antiques, toys, crafts, paintings, pottery, and virtually any other item you could think of. This woman is displaying her folk art paintings.

Of course, I was on the lookout for mizuko-related activity. I saw many Jizos for sale, including some mizuko jizos. But the most exciting part of observing some outdoor mizuko kuyo actually taking place amidst the bustle of the market. For instance, a tent was set up in one part of the temple complex, and a priest was continually performing mizuko kuyo while people wandered in, bought mizutoba, and offered them to the Jizo image.

I alternated between research and shopping, though truth be told I didn't buy too much. I wished Kristen were with me, she would have really enjoyed it and made better use of the wares for sale. Here are some women selling really beautiful rolls of brocade cloth.

One of the more unusual items I noticed was this "Buddha cross," with a Japanese Buddha seated on the crossbar of a Christian cross. I have no idea whether it is some sort of syncretic Buddho-Christian mixture, an artifact cooked up to appeal to foriegners, or represents the hidden Christians who used to disguise their Christianity under a Buddhist facade. Although puzzling, I tend to think it is authentic, because it isn't just any Buddha--it is Dainichi Nyorai, the Great Sun Buddha, who represents the totality of the cosmos and is as close as Japanese Buddhism comes to a genuine analog to God in the Western sense.

I considered buying it for my friend Shannon, a Zen priest who's engaged to an Episcopalian priest, since it seemed like a symbol of their relationship. But the young guy selling it wanted more than $300, way too much for me to spend on anything.

A little stream ran through the northern part of the temple, and it was full of happy turtles sunning themselves.

If you lean over and look in the water purposefully, the turtles and fish at most temples will come over and stare back. I think they must be fed by the monks, so they think of humans as friends and potential food-providers. Certainly fish and turtles are thought of in a respectful way, as this statue to a turtle-god (right next to the stream) attests.

The monks, at least, tend to be vegetarian. Not so for sushi-loving laypeople, of course. . .

Nearby, I found yet another mizuko kuyo installation. Yet again, a monk was chanting continually while people prayed and bought miniature stupas to offer to their mizuko.

Another ceremony going on was a goma, a type of fire ceremony. This is an esoteric rite, where the priest burns wooden sticks that destroy people's bad luck. The first one of these I saw was actually performed in a Unitarian-Universalist church on the Upper East Side. I must say, Toji made a more natural venue for the ritual.

As I was winding down from buying and looking, I decided to pay the admission fee and view the treasures of the temple. They have an outstanding collection of twenty-six tantric Buddhist figures. I was also able to get close to the pagoda. It looks even more impressive when you get near.

It was a long, hot, exhausting day. On the ride home I bought a single-serving size bottle of plum wine, the first alcohol I've had on this trip. Nothing drives a man to drink like shopping and Buddhism, apparently.

How Many Roads Can a Man Walk Down?

2006-08-24T02:00:00.000-07:00

To be a traveler is to walk on unfamiliar paths, following ways that lead to new sights and experiences. The Buddhist religion is itself likened to a path which must be tread mindfully by those who wish to recover from the delusions and difficulties of the unawakened life. In Kyoto, every day presents new paths for me to explore, offering wonders sometimes unimagined. Here is a montage of some of the paths I have taken in the past couple of weeks. Some are in the heart of the city; others scale the side of forested mountains.

Week in Review

2006-08-18T19:29:00.000-07:00

It's been another eventful week here in Kyoto. We just dodged another typhoon: this one went south instead of north. This time of year there’s a high pressure system over Asia that tends to send storms to the south of Kyoto, but as the season wears on it will shift northward and we’ll be vulnerable that right now.

Yesterday I lived out a dream: I watched the original 1954 “Godzilla” (Gojira) in Japan, in Japanese, no less. It was being shown at the Museum of Kyoto, so I biked over there, paid 500 yen, and sat to watch a much more somber, slower, richer version than the Americanized one (which featured new scenes of Raymond Burr spliced in as an American reporter named “Steve Martin” caught in the monster’s path). This morning consisted of picking up necessities at the department store: bread, peanut butter, beans, soup, chopsticks, a bowl, and a little travel iron. In a little while I’ll sit in on the Shin Buddhism Translation Series meeting again.

During the earlier part of the week, I once more went all over the place. Rather than futilely try to cover everything, I’ll offer a hodgepodge of impressions. First up: Kyoto Tower, seen from the third floor of the Kyoto Station. The tower is the tallest structure in Kyoto, and while it’s supposed to look like an eternally-burning candle, many people dismiss it as looking like a toy rocket.

I mentioned previously that I went to the Kyoto National Museum. Here’s a shot of me outside, in front of a replica of Rodin’s “The Thinker.” Note the European-looking special exhibition hall in the background, and the rather more Japanese stone pagoda.

This week was Obon, the most important time in the Japanese religious calendar. The dead are believed to come back from the afterlife and visit the living for several days, and people travel to their hometowns to greet their ancestors in the cemetery. It is a festive time: because the dead watch out for the living, and can return at times to visit, cemeteries are not the sort of morbid or saddening sites they seem to be in the USA. I spent a lot of time in cemeteries this past week looking for (and finding) evidence of mizuko kuyo-related practices. During all this observation, I often saw people washing down graves, talking animatedly to their dead relatives, and generally having a good time. Here’s a shot from the top of the large cemetery at Eikando in eastern Kyoto.

Temples are also decorated during Obon, and many people visit temples both to go to the cemetery and to meet with friends and neighbors. Here’s the main hall of Chishakuin, festooned for Obon.

Chishakuin is a large temple in eastern Kyoto, not far from the Kyoto National Museum. I wandered in its cemetery too but a fierce storm whipped up and drove me back into shelter near the parking lot. It was almost enough to make you believe in protective spirits. Near the main hall I saw an interesting pair of carved footprints, representing the footprints of the Buddha. As you can see, people sometimes leave money on them as an offering.

Another temple I visited over Obon was Otani Honbyo. This is the mausoleum of Shinran, founder of the Jodo Shinshu school of Buddhism. His remains and those of many of the tradition’s major priests are enshrined here. The temple was actually started by Shinran’s daughter, Kakushinni, in the 13th century. As such, she is really the founder of the particular sect of Jodo Shinshu that Kristen and I belong to. There was a memorial monument to Kakushinni on the grounds of Otani Honbyo, facing the main hall for remains.

Of course, most of my temple-surfing was related to mizuko kuyo. I saw many mizuko kuyo installations this week and learned a lot about the material culture and practices of related to mizuko. At one temple, Sainenji, I encountered my first Mizuko Kannon. She is the bodhisattva of compassion, in this case manifested in a form specifically devoted to saving mizuko. In the picture you can see the offerings that have been left to her and the mizuko, as well as a Mizuko Jizo by her side.

At another temple, Jotokuji, I found a somewhat unusual-looking Mizuko Jizo. Usually the larger statues look like a tall, slender, adult monk. But this one looks like a boy, and even wears the clothes of a boy rather than a monk. It was a striking difference. People have obviously accepted this new image because he was surrounded by many plaques left by people paying for mizuko rites. In fact, while I was there an older woman kept circumambulating the other Jizo shrine, pausing each time at the Mizuko Jizo to toss water on it respectfully.

One thing you’ll see a lot of at temple in Japan are koi, the sometimes gigantic carp that swim in the waters of most decorative ponds and moats. Here’s one I saw at Eikando. They come in many colors and sizes.

To get to eastern Kyoto, where I’ve done much of my research so far, you have to cross the Kamo-gawa river. Along the river are restaurants with porches where you can sit and enjoy the relative cool of the riverside.

On the other side of the river is Sanjusangetsudo, a famous temple that Kristen and I visited last year. I went again this week, and I’m glad I did, because I actually observed a mizuko kuyo rite while I was at the temple. I also enjoyed the grounds, which include a colorful gate.

I noticed some young women wearing kimono at the temple. This is a very common sght in Kyoto. Especially after dark when everyone is out of work and changes into their evening fun clothes, kimonos are everywhere in a profusion of colors.

Zen Gourmand

2006-08-16T00:47:00.000-07:00

Yesterday afternoon was probably the most pleasant I have spent in Japan. I biked a pretty fair distance north and east, up to the mountain foothills where Nanzenji, a major Rinzai Zen monastery, sits. The temple was beautiful and I’ll share pictures later, but now I want to talk about the lunch I had. Next to the huge complex of Nanzenji is a another, far smaller, Rinzai temple named Choshoin.

This temple is famous for its traditional Zen vegetarian meals, known as yudoufu. There are several different meals of this type; another is ochazuke, which Kristen, Mom, Dad, and I experienced last year in Kamakura at another Zen-affiliated restaurant. The restaurant within Choshoin is known as Okutan, and includes both inside and outside dining areas. Although the hostess protested that it was hot, I chose to sit outside, and I’m glad I did.

Not only was it cool under the eaves and often pleasant with a light breeze, but the garden at Choshoin is a pleasure unto itself. I don’t think my photos quite capture it, but they can give you some sense of the serenity as one sits and eats at a languid pace, cicadas churring and black-and-white dragonflies dancing over the water.

Okutan offers two yudoufu set meals, plus a la carte options. I chose the more expensive yudoufu because I wanted to the full experience, and couldn’t say when I’d be back. Kiku, the eight-course yudoufu, cost 4725 yen, approximately $41—about two days’ food budget for me here normally, but we’re halfway through the month and I’m still flush so I thought I’d do it. And it was terrific, the meal was more than worth it. I did compensate a bit by not ordering drinks, sticking to the cool green tea that the server provided at regular intervals.

Now, unlike our friend Bree, I’m no chef and can’t describe to you either the preparation or the complex flavors of these dishes. So you’ll just have to let your imagination fill in what I can’t provide. The first dish was goma-tofu, a sesame-based cold tofu block that came sitting in a bit of sauce and with wasabi on top. You simply slice it neatly with your chopsticks and eat. The consistency was noticeably thicker than normal tofu and the flavor richer, and the wasabi added a nice contrast. We were off to a good start.

The second dish, hard on the heals of the first, was tororo. This is a grated yam soup, with soy sauce-flavored wheat gluten bits, served cold. You stir it up with the chopsticks and then drink it straight from the bowl—the Japanese rarely use spoons, preferring the methods of slurping that always got you in trouble with your mother. The soup was quite thick, almost porridge-consistency, and once again, tasty. I can’t recall what the bit of green herb was.

Course three arrived quickly too. It was fusansyu, three different types of flavored wheat gluten. The two dark kinds were most similar to wheat gluten I have eaten in Chinese restaurants in the USA. The little green-and-white leaf-shaped piece is almost like an especially thick piece of jello, though savory, not sweet. The third type came delicately wrapped in a leaf and tied with a piece of grass, reminding me of a tamale.

Unwrapping the leaf, I found a small ball of white wheat gluten. Considering how bland it looked it was actually surprisingly delicious. With all of these fusansyu, you just pop them in your mouth one at a time with chopsticks.

Course four arrived quickly too. Popping the top off I found yuba no takimono: bean curd film served in a medium-thickness sauce, with another piece of fusansyu and two sliced peapods. I found the texture more compelling than the taste on this one. You pick it up with chopsticks and eat it bite by bite.

Next up: namafudengaku. These are deep-fried gluten on sticks, with various miso sauce glazings. This was probably my favorite (is it a surprise the American liked the deep-fried dish best?). It was different than anything I’d eaten, tasted good, and was fun to eat. Each piece was a little different from the others, though I’m at a loss to explain how. Note: this was the only dish so far served hot.

Next up was the main event: the actual yudoufu. You can get this either hot or cold. Because it was a warm day, I opted for chilled, and it came with ice floating in the bowl. Technically, this makes it hiyasitoufu, rather than yudoufu, but no matter. Yudoufu consists of five large blocks of thick tofu. The gourd-shaped dish contains shredded seaweed, shredded leeks, and wasabi. You put these three flavorings into the smaller bowl of sauce (I don’t know what this sauce was—it was probably soy-based but was definitely not simply soy sauce) in the concentrations which you desire. Then you dip out a piece of tofu and put it into the small bowl, essentially basting it in the sauce. Using your chopsticks, you cut it into sections and eat it. This is all meant to be somewhat time intensive, forcing you to slow down and savor your meal, perhaps pausing after each block to enjoy the garden.

There are a couple of other items in that picture that ought to be identified. The short piece of bamboo is where Japanese restaurants put the receipt, which is typically given to you as soon as all the food finishes arriving. The taller pottery carafe holds shoyu, your basic soy sauce. And if you look closely at the yudoufu you may be able to see a small green maple leaf. This is for decoration, but they are also edible, and in the fall when they turn red the Japanese enjoy frying them up as tempura.

And speaking of tempura, that was dish number seven. These are all vegetables. From right to left (this is Japan, after all), you have a sheet of seaweed, onion, Japanese eggplant, endomame (a type of green bean, not to be confused with edomame, soy bean pods), a really delicious mushroom cap, and a slice of squash. It came with its own sauce, to the left. I’m a big fan of tempura. Just grab one with your chopsticks, dip it, and enjoy.

Finally, the meal ended with traditional rice (gohan) and pickles, the finish to any good Japanese meal. I poured a little soy sauce over the rice and tucked in. You eat rice with your chopsticks (it’s sticky), holding the bowl near your bowl. Two of the pickles were actually some sort of shredded vegetables, maybe seaweeds of some type.

The meal really was a wonderful experience, and probably the most filling I’ve had in two weeks despite the small portions. I told the hostess that it was fun and delicious, and that perhaps I’d return with my family next month. I left feeling really happy, and enjoyed exploring the charming grounds of Eikando, a major Pure Land temple, for the rest of the afternoon. But that’s another blog entry.

Pigging Out

2006-08-14T19:26:00.000-07:00

As I mentioned, on Friday I went to a Shinto shrine dedicated to a pig-god.

The attendant there called him “Ino-san,” a derivative of inoshishi, the native wild boar of Japan. Inoshishi live in the forested mountains around Kyoto, though luckily you’re unlikely to run into them when hiking—they’re entirely capable of killing a full-grown human. Local wisdom is that if you do encounter one, try to get higher up the mountain than it, since inoshishi can’t charge uphill very fast. If you’ve seen the popular anime movie “Princess Mononoke” then you’ve gotten a glimpse of the awe and respect that this powerful creature commands. It’s no surprise then that Ino-san has been raised to the level of a protective kami.

The shrine was full of images of wild boars and pigs. I thought it would make a nice visual blog post. Some were fierce.

Others were sort of cute.

At the shrine they sell Ino-san ema, which I found kind of amusing. As usual, people write their wishes on them and hang them at the shrine. The white papers next to them in the picture are discarded fortunes. For a small fee, you can have your fortune revealed by getting a folded paper from a box. If the fortune is bad, you tie it to a tree or cord and leave it at the shrine, rather than bringing the bad luck out with you.

Here’s a close-up of the ema.

This statue had its own little shelter

Impressive tusks on this one.

Although it is a Shinto shrine, there were some Jizos scattered about the grounds. Can’t go anywhere without seeing O-Jizo-sama, apparently.

A pair of these inoshishi stood by the gate. Without eyes, they seemed more like corpses than imposing beasts to me. Perhaps they’re about to become tonkatsu (pork cutlets). The Japanese love pork.

All Over the Place

2006-08-13T22:03:00.000-07:00

On Friday I was feeling better, so I decided to go to lots of temples. First, though, I had to upload my most recent blog entries, which I went to the Kyoto Tourist Information Center on the ninth floor of Kyoto Station to do. Since I was near the top, I decided to go out and look down on the city. The top of the station is about eleven stories high, and offers the best panoramic view of the city other than from Kyoto Tower (which is expensive). Here’s a picture looking back down into the guts of Kyoto Station.

Believe it or not, I recognized the Kyoto Station right away on my first visit here because the giant turtle Gamera fought his foe Iris here in the station in a monster movie. Tatsuguchi Sensei thought it was pretty funny when I told him this.

I got on my bike and headed east over the river. Next to Sanjusangendo, a large temple that Kristen and I visited in 2005, I saw a little Jizo shrine. The kesho Jizos inside caught my eye, their painted faces were either spooky or endearing depending on how you viewed them.

Since I was nearby, I decided to go back by Karasudera, the Crow Temple, and get some better pictures. Here’s one of the crows on the roof of the building; remember, the temple is named after two talking crows who foretold the death of a prominent Buddhist priest.

Up the street from Karasudera is Toyokuni Jinja, a Shinto shrine dedicated to Hideyoshi Toyotomi, one of the great Japanese warlords who helped unify the country (through military conquest) in the 16th century. There was a path made of torii, the gate-like structures associated with Shinto, that struck me as picturesque.

As I stood there, a semi (cicada) landed on the first torii. They are everywhere calling in the summer heat, so I took his picture. He was pretty patient with me. There are actually five distinct different species of semi here in Kyoto. The Japanese can tell them all apart based on their calls, and have a different name for each. I tried, but frankly, they all sound like bugs to me. Ignorant American. . .

This is the Karamon, the gate that leads to the actual shrine for Hideyoshi. It is a national treasure from the Momoyama age. As I gazed at it, I noticed a white crane flying by overhead. Then I read a sheet given to me by someone that said that the gate is carved with crane sculptures. They are called “cranes without eyes” and it is believed that they were not given eyes so they wouldn’t fly away. Just one of those strange moments in Japan.

The gate was lined with gourd-shaped ema that people had purchased and hung there. This was interesting to me because ema are usually sort of rectangular.

Nearby was Hokoji, a Tendai temple with a gigantic bell.

In the shadows of the temple was a mysterious statue of Dainichi Nyorai, the Great Sun Buddha who represents the ultimate principle of the cosmos. It was way too dark for me to get a picture in there.

Next I went to a temple named Juenji. It is dedicated to Arai Jizo, a form of Jizo I didn’t know about before. There were lots of Arai Jizo ema on display there. This was near the Gion District. As I stood on the street pondering my next move, a geisha came right down the lane and passed by me. Then, a door opened right next to me, and a geisha came out leading a maiko (apprentice geisha). They went down the lane, and yet another geisha passed them coming the other way and went into a largish building. Inside, I could see other geishas moving about, and I could hear traditional drum music. I did not try to take any pictures, it seemed too rude. But maybe another time I will ask a geisha if it is OK to take her picture. One sees many women in kimono here, but the geishas are unmistakable, with their white make-up, formal hairdos, and a certain air about them.

Moving north, a saw yet another little Jizo shrine. I thought the Jizos here were so cute they were worth sharing.

I was in the vicinity of Kenninji, a major Rinzai Zen monastery. First, though, I went into a Shinto shrine associated with Kenninji that is dedicated to a buta kami: a pig-god. I’ll have a separate blog post with the pictures of all the porkers.

Across from the entrance to Kenninji was a small ukiyoe (woodcut) museum. The sign was amusing.

"UKIYOE SMALL MUSEUM OPEN WHEN I WAKE UP AND CLOSE WHEN I MUST GO TO SLEEP WHEN I’VE HAD ENOUGH THE STORE IS CLOSED"

Yet another Shinto shrine near Kenninji is Ebisu Jinja. Ebisu is a god of fishermen and the official protector of Kenninji.

I went to many other temples on Friday, though many were closed by the time I got to them so I only took exterior shots. I also walked through the Pontocho, a former red-light district near the river that is now a long narrow alley crammed with restaurants, shops, and exclusive geisha teahouses.

Here I found an establishment named “Cabbages and Condoms.” It is a Thai restaurant. Here is their menu. I’m glad to know that it is safe now.

Nearby was an actual red-light district full of “health salons.” Their signs were pretty explicit about what was available inside. Jittery young men or creepy old guys were milling around in front trying to entice passersby inside. It was kind of like being back in parts of New York. I went up the street to a temple, Zuisenji. I thought maybe its proximity to this seedy side of Kyoto might make it a good candidate for mizuko kuyo. The door was already closed, though. Just when I was thinking how nice it was that there was at least a temple near the red-light district to balance things out, I read an information plaque about Zuisenji. It said that Hideyoshi had adopted his nephew since he didn’t have any sons of his own to carry on his legacy. But then they had a political disagreement, and his wife gave birth to a son. So he had his nephew’s head cut off. He showed the head to the nephew’s wife, concubines, children, and attendants. Then he proceeded to cut off all their heads too, and they were all buried in the ground. Zuisenji was built on the spot to placate the souls of the dead.

Hideyoshi is also the guy who cut off the Koreans’ ears and pickled them, which then ended up in the ear-stupa I already blogged about. So it seems that not a few temples around Kyoto are basically dedicated to his victims. Nice guy, that Hideyoshi. Needless to say, I didn’t bow at his shrine.

Mr. Jizo Comicbook

2006-08-10T22:06:00.000-07:00

Well kids, because you were soooo good this week, you get to hear a story from your favorite comic: “Mr. Jizo Comicbook”!

I picked this “O-Jizo-sama” manga up for 500 yen at Mibudera on Wednesday (see below for the description of the temple), just couldn’t resist. Since I was sick and didn’t get to blog as much this week, here’s a second post on the same day just for you. OK kids, sit down and be still so we can all listen. And remember, in Japan we read our comicbooks from right to left.

Once upon a time some children were playing near a temple. A kindly old monk came along and told them the famous story of “Sai-no-Kawara”: the bank of the river Sai.

When children die, they go to the riverbank of Sai. There they wait forlornly, unable to pass on to the next world. They gather stones and erect stupas (Buddhist memorial monuments) to worship the Buddhas and dedicate merit to their families.

But on the riverbank, there is a demon! He smashes their “sand-castles” and terrifies them! Oh no, what a terrible story. . .

But then. . . Jizo appears! He is the special guardian of children and people in the afterlife. So he comes quickly to save the children trapped in the netherworld. Yay!

The children run to him and he gathers them up, offering them shelter.

The demon is angry! He confronts Jizo! But Jizo is too good and powerful, he protects the children and they are saved! The end.

Since you sat through that scary traditional story, children, you can have a peek at one more. This is a happy story! Some monkeys were frolicking in the woods. They saw some children worshipping Jizo and offering flowers. The monkeys decided to do so too. Then the other animals saw them, and copied them as well. Everyone is happy!

Best panel: the happy rabbits and squirrels worship Jizo, who says “Thank you!” And yes, it is required by strict Japanese law that all squirrels in the country be blue with bright yellow racing stripes.

Next week in “Mr. Jizo Comicbook”: Lois Lane discovers Jizo’s secret identity as mild-mannered reporter Clark Kent. Will she tell the world?

Ryukoku and Mibudera

2006-08-10T21:53:00.000-07:00

The grant that allows me to stay here in Japan comes from Ryukoku University, a large Buddhist university located on the grounds of Nishi Honganji. The university was founded during the 1600s and is among the oldest in Japan. Like Harvard, founded around the same time, it began as a seminary and developed into a major learning institution covering virtually every subject in the modern world.

Near the entrance to the university is the famous Kara-mon gate of Nishi Honganji, considered one of the most beautiful such gates.

It is also called the “sunset gate” because you could allegedly stare at in until the sun went down without getting bored. Indeed, it is covered with people, animals, mythical beasts, and all sorts of symbols.

On Wednesday I decided to bike over to Mibudera, a temple not too far from Nishi Honganji but one I’d never visited. It belongs to the Risshu school, an ancient sect of Japanese Buddhism that believes enlightenment is achieved by perfectly observing the bodhisattva precepts.

On the grounds were numerous Jizo shrines. In fact, you see these little shrines everywhere, especially on street and at intersections.

Inside one of them were two cute little kesho Jizos. Kesho Jizo is a local form of Jizo. He wears lots of white face powder.

Probably the main attraction of Mibudera is the large stupa covered with 1000 weathered Buddha statues.

As usual, I was there to hunt for Jizos, especially mizuko Jizos. The most prominent Jizo has his own chapel.

He is a mizukake Jizo, meaning that people throw water on him as an offering. He is somewhat generic, taking prayers for mizuko, easy childbirth, good fortune, safe travel, etc. I saw mothers, children, men, and old ladies all doing mizukake by tossing water on him respectfully with metal dippers.

Nearby, I was in for a shock. There is a second smaller stupa that is festooned with Jizo images. Right in the front in the center was one I immediately recognized as being manufactured by a temple in Oregon that does mizuko kuyo, one of my main study sites for my dissertation.

“Hello Stone Buddhas in MIBUDERA! I am an American Jizo from Oregon U.S.A.” (In Japanese: This is a Jizo from Oregon state in America, bestowed on the stone Buddhas of Mibudera by Jizo Mountain Great Vow Monastery, headed by Chozen Bays, on March 10, 2005)

It was amazing to see this American Jizo displayed so prominently at a Japanese temple. The Jizo is well cared for, with a clean surface and new bib and rosary. It makes a striking contrast to all the worn-down old Japanese Jizos around it. In particular, this one is such much more feminine than the Japanese Jizos. I didn’t realize this until I saw it in this context. Jizo is always somewhat androgynous (though male), but these American Buddhists (led by a female abbot) are clearly taking Jizo in a more female-oriented direction. This was great stuff, virtually worth the whole three-month trip all on its own!

And sure enough, around back on the same stupa were many mizuko Jizos.

On Thursday I had a bad head cold and didn’t go out during the day, meaning I missed some of the stuff I wanted to do. But I did go out at night to check my email. On the way back I passed Enmusubi, one of the temples I visited on Sunday, glowing in the nighttime.

Whirlwind Sunday Temple Tour

2006-08-07T22:10:00.000-07:00

On Sunday I went to more temples than I thought possible in a day. The day started at 10am, when my mentor in Japan, Dr. Tatsuguchi Myosei (hereafter Tatsuguchi Sensei), met me at the Hongwanji International Center. We biked first to the family temple of a student of his, name Soutokuji (I’m not sure of the translation). This is a temple in Jodo Shu lineage of Pure Land Buddhism, related to but not identical to the Jodo Shinshu one that I’m involved with. Soutokuji is close to Kyoto Station and is interesting because it practice ningyo kuyo: doll memorials. When your child outgrows their dolls or action figures, you take them to the temple to be respectfully disposed of. They are stored for a time in ornate cases, then cremated in a memorial service.

Many people buy a flat wooden plaque called an ema. On one side is an image of a Buddha or other holy figure. On the back is a space to write one’s prayers or wishes. So at Soutokuji you would buy a ningyo ema and on the back express your appreciation to the dolls for taking care of your children. These are hung in public places.

We went to this temple, however, because they also perform mizuko kuyo. Mizuko is the Japanese word for fetus; it literally means water-child. Mizuko kuyo are memorials performed for fetuses that never come to full term, such as miscarriages, abortions, or stillbirths. I am writing my dissertation on these rituals and this is why I have come to Kyoto for three months. There is no equivalent religious recognition of pregnancy losses in America, and therefore some people have begun to import mizuko kuyo and perform them there, even Christians. This is an interesting phenomenon and allows me to touch on a wide variety of subjects both Asian and American, so I choose it for my dissertation topic. Mizuko kuyo at Soutokuji cost 10,000 yen. The ritual is not performed by Jodo Shinshu because they view it as superstitious and exploitative.

After Soutokuji, Tatsuguchi Sensei and I met his wife at the Righa Royal Hotel, right around the corner from the temple. We ate lunch at the buffet and had a nice conversation. They lived in Chapel Hill in 2001 for nine months, and visited again last year for a shorter period. So we had lots to talk about.

After lunch, the three of us biked over to Enmusubi, which is also right near Kyoto Station. Enmusubi is more of a large road-side shrine than an actual temple, and combines both Shinto and Buddhist elements heavily. On the Shinto side was a stone with the Dousoujin, two old kami (deities) who guard travelers and are also prayed to for success in marriage.

On the Buddhist side were several statues of Jizo, the bodhisattva (future Buddha) of travelers, women, children, firefighters, and the afterlife. He is the main figure in mizuko kuyo: he ferries the spirits of lost fetuses to a better rebirth, perhaps in one of the paradise realms. Because of his patronage of travelers he is often associated with the Dousojin, although they are unusual here in the Kansai region, being most often found in the Kanto region north of Tokyo. The Jizos in the shrine were specifically mizuko Jizo, the Jizo who saved mizuko.

Mrs. Tatsuguchi left us, and we biked over the river to a district full of temples. As we were passing through, we stopped at looked at the Mimitou: the ear stupa. Stupas are Buddhist memorial monuments. This one was built for the ears of Korean soldiers that the invading Japanese army cut off, pickled, and brought back during a medieval campaign. Tatsuguchi Sensei took a picture of me standing in front of it, thankfully with my ears intact.

Across the street was Karasu Temple, the Crow Temple. The temple was founded when someone overheard two crows talking about how the disciple of a major Pure Land priest would die soon. Sure enough, he did.

Our next stop was an important one. We went to Rokuharamitsuji, the Temple of the Six Perfections Needed to Become a Buddha. It is a tantric temple that is said to be located over the mouth of the underworld. They have a collection of life-size wood statues that are considered national treasures, including one I have always wanted to see of Kuya, an early Pure Land saint. But the real reason we came here was because the temple performs lots of mizuko kuyo. In the back were two statues of mizuko Jizo.

When someone has a mizuko kuyo performed, they often buy a little mizuko Jizo statue. They will dress the statue like a baby with a bib or hat and leave it in the shrine. At Rokuharamitsuji they cost 50,000 yen each. The larger mizuko Jizo was standing in a basin of water. People buy slivers of wood shaped like stupas called mizutou (water-stupa), write the name of a deceased loved one on them, and cast them into the water. I bought two for my research collection, they cost 300 yen together.

After Rokuharamitsuji, we biked to Saifukuji. This is a Pure Land temple that used to be a tantric temple. We looked around, and sure enough I found a bunch of mizuko jizo in the shadows.

As we climbed further up the mountain, we approached Hokanji. This temple is famous for the Yasakatou, the Yasaka Stupa, which rises above the winding street.

On our way by, we passed a small temple whose name I missed (though it was the word “monkey” in the title). Inside was a shrine for the three monkeys of Nikko, known as saru, zara, waru: speak no evil, see no evil, hear no evil. You can see them seated at the bottom of the picture. The brightly-colored objects on strings are lover’s knots, left by people seeking success in romance or marriage.

We arrived at Rokudo-chinnoji, a Zen temple in the Rinzai tradition. I saw a statue of Emma-o, the scary judge of the dead who reads off your list of misbehaviors and determines your punishment.

This temple is really heavily involved in mizuko kuyo. Next to a bunch of old, worn-out regular Jizo statue is a brand-new mizuko jizo area. I thought the crawling baby statues were particularly striking.

This temple will perform perpetual mizuko kuyo for 38,000 yen. That means that they permanently enshrine one of the little mizuko jizos for you and periodically pray for it. They also sell mizuko ema, which I hadn’t seen before. I bought one for my collection for 300 en.

There were many hanging in the temple already. The messages on the back tended to say things like “I’m sorry,” “I regret what I did,” “Please have a better life,” etc. One that I thought was interesting said “Please watch over me.” Here we can see how the mizuko, the spirit of one’s own never-born child, has become assimilated to the rest of the ancestors, so that it becomes the source of protection rather than the other way around.

Our last stop was at Ryozen Kannon, an independent temple established for the dead of WWII. It is famous for its huge statue of Kannon, the female bodhisattva of compassion.

If I thought the other temples were heavily involved in mizuko kuyo, this one blew them away. Ryozan Kannon has a whole section of the grounds devoted to mizuko jizos. There were at least 10-15 thousand mizuko jizos here, maybe more, in orderly cases. You could buy lots of mizuko kuyo paraphernalia here, such as mizuko candles for 300 yen, mizuko pinwheels for 300 yen, and todarikake (baby bibs: literally, drool-clothes) for 200 yen.

We biked home exhausted by the long day. It was incredibly fruitful, though, and I know I’ll be able to return to these temples to do more research. I started to celebrate by watching King King vs. Godzilla, but I fell asleep. Just too tired.

Apparently I can only upload 13 pictures per post, so there are lots more I didn't include. And speaking of whirlwinds, it turns out that Typhoon Maria is due to hit Kyoto later today. I noticed it was getting really windy, but without a television I haven't caught a weather forecast in a week.

Hongwanji International Center

2006-08-06T20:10:00.000-07:00

Here's my new blog for Kyoto!

I'm staying at the Hongwanji International Center (Hongwanji Kokusai Senta in Japanese).

I have a private room with air conditioning, two single beds, two wardrobe cabinents, two desks, a small table, two desk lamps, and a bedside table. I'm on the third floor, in room 304.

My room faces east, overlooking the courtyard.

If you lean out and look south, you can see Kyoto Tower not to0 far away, and the top of the construction-covering over the Amida Hall at Nishi Honganji on the left.

There is a telephone at the end of the hall by the stairs, which I can receive calls on: 075-371-5547 (you have to enter the country code first, of course). The office answers and you can ask them to page me to pick up the phone, assuming I'm in.

On the hall there is a laundry room with two small clotheswashers (no dryers), a bathing room with Japanese-style facilities, a bathroom with Western toilet, and a kitchen. The kitchen has a sink, gas stove with mini-oven, toaster oven, many rice cookers, two microwaves, two refridgerators, and is stocked with communal dishes and pots.

On the second floor there is a common room with a television and VCR. There are also classrooms and a small chapel. The fourth floor is for students. The first floor has the office.

When I enter, I switch the magnet next to my name from OUT to IN. I also take off my shoes and put on my slippers, of course. The International Center is a very short walk from Nishi Honganji, the head temple in the lineage Kristen and I belong to--it's the largest temple in the largest denomination (Jodo Shinshu) of the largest type of Buddhism in Japan. They hold morning services there at 6am. I have gone three times so far. The services consist of communal chanting of Sanbutsuge (praise of the Buddha, from the Larger Pure Land Sutra) and Shoshinge (a song by Shinran, founder of Jodo Shinshu, praising his spiritual ancestors and laying out the teaching), followed by listening to a priest chant one of the epistles of Rennyo (a major reformer of the tradition) and a short sermon. Below is the gate that leads to the Shinran Hall, where the morning service takes place.

Kyoto Station is nearby, as is Ryukoku University, where I received my grant from. There are lots of shops, department stores, restaurants, and other useful things within a short walk or bike ride from the center.