Pilgrimage of a Thousand Prayers

Nyonindō – The Women’s Path

2009-07-19T17:29:00.000-07:00

After I had lit my candles and offered prayers for my fellow pilgrims whose prayers I carried and asked for a safe journey, I followed the old priest into a gloomy cramped room at the back of the temple, lit by a single light bulb and the wan light coming in one small window facing into the mountain. He reverently took my Ishin Kannon and indicated for me to sit on a cushion on the worn tatami matting beside a kero heater that emitted a welcoming warm glow. He carefully placed the statue on a ledge that held a few dusty Buddhist icons and an incense brazier, which he preceded to light. After bowing to the Ishin Kannon, he pottered around the room collecting tea and teapot and cups and placed them on the little table between us, pouring water from the big kettle he kept simmering on the kerosene heater.

Over a steaming cup of green tea we introduced ourselves and exchanged pleasantries and the perfunctory chit-chat about how cold it was and how unusually severe the spring was. Yamada-san then began to tell me about the Nyonindō temple and the mountain pathway that the women used to take as they circumambulated the sacred township of Koyasan.

I couldn’t help remarking to him how unfair it seemed to me that these women were deprived of the opportunity of studying within the temples of Koyasan and instead had to be content with just walking around the mountains with the town always below them, always out of reach. Yamada-san looked into my earnest face and smiled a knowing smile as he refilled my cup. “Ah,” he said, “Let me explain.”

Kobo Daishi, the founder of Koyasan and the Shingon sect of Buddhism, had spent many years as wandering monk, travelling through these mountains practicing ritual austerities and developing a profound awareness of the nature of Truth and Reality. When, much later in his life, he was granted permission by the emperor to found a monastic community far from the political intrigues of the capital of Kyoto, he chose this location because the eight peaks surrounding this high flat plain formed the perfect shape of a lotus blossom. The lotus blossom represents our innate pure nature that is the source of our wisdom; it is symbolic of enlightenment and our own potential for awakening.

There is a profound teaching in esoteric Buddhism about the “Jewel in the Lotus” which is the summation of all cosmic wisdom and which Kobo Daishi incorporated into his vision: the ‘jewel’ is the Garan (the main central temple of Koyasan) and the ‘lotus’ is the natural landscape that surrounds it. “Now, can you see,” continued Yamada-san, “The jewel in esoteric Buddhism is the masculine energy of the universe, the Yang aspect; and the lotus is the feminine energy, the Yin aspect.” He then sat back on his cushion and nodded his head with a satisfied look as if that explained everything. I, however, just looked back at him blankly.

Seeing my struggle to comprehend his meaning, he leaned forward, poured yet more tea and patiently resumed his discourse. The lotus, being represented by the mountains, was the feminine energy, and therefore the women who walked and chanted and practiced rituals along the Nyonindō, the Women’s Path, were actively reinforcing this energy; as they walked and practiced they wrapped the plain below them – the masculine jewel – with a sacred enclosure of feminine energy. This feminine energy is organic and natural and flowing; whilst the masculine energy of the temples is solid and unmoving and contained. Therefore, the women’s actions for over a thousand years actually worked symbiotically with the energy of the monks, creating a truly holistic sacred energy. “And of course,” he concluded, “The women knew that! That is why there is not a whisper in any historic documents of the nuns ever requesting that they be permitted to enter the town, because that wasn’t what they wanted. Yet thousands of nuns over the centuries have walked that pathway, and prayed at the seven Nyonindō, Women’s Temples, energizing this entire area.”

This did indeed make sense to me because I had also walked the Women’s Path many times and felt a tremendous connection to all of those women who had walked before me. I always felt a profound connection to their sacred energy which can still be felt so strongly on that mountain path.

As I got up to leave, I thanked Yamada-san for the tea and for helping me to understand the nature of the sacred landscape I was now entering. “Remember,” he said as he handed me my Ishin Kannon, “This place is a sacred mandala and so is the pilgrimage you are about to undertake – a mandala of one thousand five hundred kilometres! Always be aware that you are in the midst of a sacred landscape.”

Before I turned to enter the townsite of Koyasan, I bowed a deep and reverent bow to this old priest who surely was another incarnation of Kannon who was preparing me for the journey ahead.

Nyonindō – The Women’s Temple

2009-06-29T21:34:00.001-07:00

I arrived at the Nyonindō – the Women’s Temple – several hours later, enjoying the snowy solitude along the way. Although it was cold, it had stopped snowing and I felt quite warm after the steep climb up the Fudō Slope. This is one of my favourite places on Mt Koya because it is especially dedicated to women, and to women ascetic practitioners. It is a humble wooden building, quite nondescript and a little run down. With all the many splendid attractions on this mountaintop – magnificent temples with gorgeous gardens and rare and precious artworks – very few people come to this little bare temple on the edge of the town.

Standing just inside the sliding wooden doors of the temple, I went to light some incense but the old damp packet of matches beside the brazier held only dead matches and a moth. Making a note to pick up a lighter of my own for the journey, I went to find the priest to ask for a light. There was no one in the little office at the side of the altar and so I poked my head through the curtained doorway and called into the interior gloom. “Yes, yes, I’m coming!” a weary voice responded from inside. An old man appeared dressed in monk’s working clothes with an extra layer of a padded sleeveless jacket and a hand-knitted red beanie on his bald head. He seemed a little put out at first, but on seeing a foreign pilgrim standing there he stood stock still as if I were an apparition.

“There aren’t any matches,” I said, holding up the empty box. “Ah, yes, well… okay, yes, um…” as he rummaged in the drawers of the old wooden desk. He produced a battered cigarette lighter and with an apologetic grimace handed it to me. “Sorry, but there are very few visitors here in weather like this and I tend to be a bit forgetful these days. After you’ve said your prayers, why not come inside by the heater and have a cup of tea,” he offered.

Before the 1920s, women were forbidden to enter the sacred town of Koyasan, which was the preserve of male monks and workers only. This temple marked the limit of women’s participation. There was a Nyonindo temple at the end of the each seven pilgrimage paths up the mountain to the townsite. This is the only surviving one, kept as an historical relic to a past era that excluded women from participating in the esoteric practices of Buddhism in this important centre.

Apparently though, this prohibition didn’t stop women from climbing the steep and often dangerous slopes to visit the sacred mountain. Women were certainly ordained as nuns in the Shingon tradition, and many came here to practice ascetic rituals, but weren’t allowed into the town itself. So they would come up the mountain, pray at the Nyonindo and then proceed to circumambulate the eight mountain peaks surrounding the town, stopping at the other Nyonindo temples along the way.

There are also many recorded stories of mothers coming to visit their sons bringing them mended clothing and food. It is also written that the mother of Kobo Daishi, the great founder of the Shingon tradition, used to come here regularly too from her own temple at the base of the mountain. I often wondered what she did when she got here, given that she couldn’t proceed into the main sacred hall of worship in the centre of the town, the great Garan. There are also spicy stories of illicit love affairs and secret marriages and all kinds of other goings-on associated with a large celibate congregation of men!

I always felt however that this was an unjust misogynist prejudice against women, denying them the right to learn and practice in this great sacred centre of esoteric Buddhism. However, the talk that I had with the Nyonindo priest that day, over a cup of steaming hot green tea, changed my mind and showed me just how little I really understood this ancient tradition.

Retreat notice

2009-06-14T02:57:00.000-07:00

Thank you for your positive responses to my Pilgrimage blog. I apologise for interupting the flow but I will be on retreat this coming week in preparation for the Fire Ceremony that marks the final offering of the prayers that I carried on the pilgrimage. I look forward to sharing the story of this ritual and continuing with the pilgrimage blog after Sunday 21st June. Thank you for your patience.

Fudozaka - Path of the Mountain Ascetic

2009-06-04T17:28:00.000-07:00

As I walked up the mountain pathway to Koyasan, the only sound I could hear was the crunching of my footsteps. When I stopped to rest, watching the swirling frosty puffs of my breath, it was absolutely silent – a strange muted stillness that comes when it lightly snows and the little winter birds are huddled in the bare trees. There was no one on the path today but the landscape seemed alive with spirits. I paused a moment longer to enjoy this silence that seemed to echo through the landscape and through my mind.

Fudozaka means “Fudo’s slope” and is named for the fiery deity Fudo Myo – the “King of Light” – who represents strength of will and fierce determination. Fudo is the key deity of veneration of the Shugendo tradition of mountain ascetics. Shugendo practitioners are known as “yamabushi”, literally “those who lie down in the mountains”. This spiritual movement is an ancient tradition that combines Esoteric Buddhism, Shinto, animism, and shamanism, and focuses on rigorous ritual practices that take place in the mountains. These practices involve long mountain treks, standing under icy waterfalls, walking on fire, as well as many secret rituals. All the temples on the pilgrimage, although predominantly belonging to the Esoteric Buddhist tradition, also have strong connections to Shugendo.

I have participated in a number of Shugendo rituals at different temples along the pilgrimage, which I shall talk about as we come to those temples. While walking up the Fudo Slope I reminisced about the time that I walked with the yamabushi along this pathway as part of an annual gathering of mountain ascetics one hot summer’s day that culminated in a great fire ritual held in the grounds of one of the temples on the mountain here.

The leader of the group was a very charismatic man who exuded great spiritual power and looked to me like a Japanese Yul Brynner! Although not initiated into this particular Shugendo group, because I was a Shingon Buddhist priest he agreed that I could join them. So I trailed along at the end of the line of yamabushi, chanting the mantras with them, which were very familiar to me because they are all from the Esoteric Buddhist tradition that I am ordained in.

After walking through the mountains for some hours, chanting and blowing the conch shell, the group returned to the temple to light the great saito-goma bonfire in the courtyard. This fire is quite spectacular and is accompanied by complex rituals involving bows and arrows, spears, swords and axes – weapons that represent the spiritual warrior cutting through illusions to achieve enlightenment. The blazing heat of the fire and the dense smoke are quite overwhelming and all the time the yamabushi continued to chant faster and faster to accompaniment of drums and conch shell horns. As I chanted with them, I began to feel quite dizzy and entranced.

Once the blaze had burned down a little, the hot coals were raked out and the yamabushi underwent the ascetic practice of walking through the fire to be purified of all negative karma. I was standing outside the sacred enclosure, a square marked off by a five-colored braided rope, when suddenly “Yul Brynner” came towards me and held up the rope in front of me, gesturing me towards the fire saying, “Now you come!” So I removed my shoes, followed him into the sacred enclosure and then on through the burning coals.

It was amazing! I felt no pain – in fact, no heat at all even though I could see the coals burning red beneath me. It was a very significant act of faith for me to know that this yamabushi wished me no harm and to trust that he could actually see something in me that I couldn’t see in myself – the ability to undergo this intense purification rite. Believe me, I am an ordinary housewife and not the kind of person who lives life on the edge, seeking the next challenge! I certainly would never have imagined myself walking through hot coals! But I did feel tremendously empowered by this experience, which at the end of the ritual is offered up for the relief of suffering of all beings.

So as I walked up Fudozaka that snowy morning at the start of the pilgrimage, I wondered what other adventures and challenges the weeks ahead would present.

Gokurakubashi - Bridge into Paradise

2009-05-27T21:59:00.000-07:00

A blast of icy wind struck me as the train doors opened and I stepped out of the warm compartment onto the platform. Snow was falling like soft flower petals, drifting onto the platform and melting on my shoes. This was the end of the rail line, at the base of Mt Koya, and all the passengers were now walking up the steep steps to transfer on to the little funicular railway that takes you on up the mountain to the Shingon Buddhist village of Koyasan.

This station is called Gokurakubashi – Bridge into Paradise. It marks the entrance to one of the seven traditional pathways up the mountain to the sacred site of Koyasan. Even though it was snowing I decided to walk the rest of the way, as pilgrims and monks have been doing for over twelve hundred years. It is not far as the crow flies, but the pathway meanders up the mountain and so it took me a couple of hours, treading carefully in the snow so as not to slip.

As I exited, the station master took my ticket, raising his eyebrows at the sight of this foreigner dressed in pilgrim’s robes carrying an image of Kannon with a backpack full of prayers on her back. I felt sure he was thinking “Whatever will these crazy foreigners do next?!” and felt a little uncomfortable under his gaze. However, as I stepped out into the snow, walking towards the bridge that marked the start of the path, the station master called after me, “Wait!” I turned to see him running after me with something in his hand. Thinking I’d left something on the train I walked back towards him. He stopped and made a slight bow to me before placing in my hands a hot can of green tea. He bowed again and said “Good luck!” before turning smartly and returning to his post before I could respond. I called back “Thank you – I will do my best!” which is the traditional response of the pilgrim and suggests that the pilgrimage will be undertaken not just for oneself but for all beings. His simple act of generosity touched me deeply and as I drank the tea, it warmed not just my body but my heart as well and I took this as a very auspicious omen that the spirit of Kannon, as well as her embodiment in the image I carried, would be travelling with me.

There is a saying often seen printed on pilgrim’s clothing, bags and other accessories that says “Ninin Dogyo” which means “Two people – same journey,” meaning that the pilgrim is never alone and Kannon is always walking beside you. The Japanese character for “journey” can also mean “austerities,” perhaps reflecting the very real hazards and physical challenges of the journey, but also refers to the pilgrimage as a spiritual practice that is not conducted alone but with the aid of Kannon. There are physical challenges like dealing with mountain paths and inclement weather and long days on the road, but there are also spiritual challenges as the energy of these sacred sites gradually penetrates your soul and causes sometimes quite painful awareness as you confront your own spiritual weaknesses.

As I crossed the snow-capped red bridge that led into the sacred landscape of Koyasan, the can of tea warming my hands, I was aware that my solitary journey was joined not only by Kannon but by the one thousand seven hundred people whose prayers I carried, for we were all undertaking this journey together and this was our first step.

A 21st Century Miracle - Part IV

2009-05-18T19:27:00.000-07:00

Photo of Kakushin Baba (c. 1930s)

I returned to the tea room with Baba-san and we sat in companionable silence just listening to the burble of the creek that flowed from the waterfall into the pond full of colourful koi and the twittering of the little forest birds. When Mrs Baba joined us with a fresh pot of green tea, she asked me what school of Buddhism I had been ordained in, and when I told them it was the Shingon tradition they both exclaimed together – “Ah! The same as our temple here!” I thought what a lovely coincidence it was that my Kannon statue had been carved by a priest belonging to the same tradition that I also belonged to. It was heart-warming for me to know that the familiar rituals would have been practiced with my Ishin Kannon all those years ago.

They then began telling me about their own son Shingu who had recently been ordained as a monk and was currently training at a remote mountain temple about a thousand kilometres away. I asked them why their son was so far away, to which they replied that the family had been associated with this faraway temple since the time of Kakushin, who was also ordained at that temple, as had Baba-san’s father, and also himself. Mrs Baba then went to the desk and brought back a framed photo of their son on the day of his ordination: he was kneeling formally in front of an altar inside a temple and seated beside Shingu was his teacher. I let out a gasp of surprise… for the man sitting beside Shingu was Zengan-sama, my very own teacher who had ordained me!

At that moment I honestly felt that I must be having a very vivid dream – it was such an impossible coincidence! How could it be possible that this journey, which had started on eBay of all places – a 21st century symbol of modern technology and consumerism, and had then led me half way round the world to this temple (which didn’t even have a television!) to reveal such a profound and sacred connection! I was simply in awe of the amazing synchronicity.

Baba-san and his wife were also absolutely speechless with surprise and just kept repeating that this event was “go-en”. “Go-en” means fate or destiny in English, but the meaning is much deeper than that – “go-en” refers to a sacred relationship between people that has been tied since the dawn of time and now comes to fruition. The Baba family and my teacher and me, although our lives were quite different and remote from one another, were nonetheless deeply connected through this sacred image of Ishin Kannon. In that moment, this did indeed seem to me to be a miracle – an awe-inspiring mysterious unfolding of fate.

Amid fond farewells and promises to remain in touch, I returned to Kyoto and completed the pilgrimage, arriving back at my home temple on Mt Koya on the last day. I immediately went to find young Shingu Baba to tell him about my meeting with his parents, but they had already telephoned him! Together we visited Zengan-sama and excitedly told him our story. Although his eyebrows did seem to rise a little as we gushed about coincidence and serendipity and synchronicity and “go-en”, Zengan-sama just smiled his gentle knowing smile, sat us down at the low lacquer table, and quietly poured us each a cup of tea – which we then shared in silence. For what else was there to say?

Coming up…
The pilgrimage of a thousand prayers begins

A 21st Century Miracle - Part III

2009-05-13T17:55:00.000-07:00

I felt that I could not enshrine this precious Kannon in my little temple, Wabi’an, unless I knew for sure that she was not stolen, so I wrote a letter to the temple telling them that I would come in person on April 8th to talk to them about the statue. April 8th is designated as Kannon’s special day in Japan – rather like her birthday – and it was the one day I had free during the Kannon Pilgrimage, which I was about to guide.

On the ascribed day, I took a train about 600kms west of Kyoto, then a bus to the nearest village and walked another 5kms up the mountain to Daioji temple. The mountain walk proved quite challenging because I had sprained my ankle very badly at the start of the pilgrimage (and it wasn’t until I returned to Australia that the doctor informed me it was actually fractured!), but instead of sensibly resting it on my free day, I felt deeply compelled to find out if this Kannon was truly mine, despite the pain. As I walked up the mountain I began to encounter some of the stone images that Baba-san had carved: larger-than-life fiery deities with scowling faces and swords, but also gentle Kannon with flowing robes and kind Jizo, the protector of travellers.

When I reached Daioji, a collection of simple modest buildings with a sunny garden and a natural spring, a woman about my age came rushing out to greet me – her face beaming as she wiped her hands on her apron. She bowed to me and poured out a torrent of words in a dialect that I had trouble keeping up with, but the warm welcome needed no spoken language – we were immediate friends! She took me into a newly constructed temple building with an enormous wooden carving of Fudo Myo (“Immovable Light King”) enshrined as the main image – such tremendous power emanating from him that I immediately bowed and made an offering prayer. I was then led by Mrs Baba, who is the grand-daughter of the founder, Kakushin Baba, to meet her husband in a small simple tea-room adjoining the temple. Baba-san, who was much quieter and shyer that his wife, had a very kind face with a smart beard and sharp penetrating eyes, which gave him an air of subdued power.

I was immediately reassured that the statue of Kannon in my possession was indeed mine to keep. What a relief! We all laughed and relaxed while we sipped green tea and chatted about Australia and my dear Kannon. It was surmised that the image had been given by Kakushin Baba to a devotee in Kyushu for the purpose of healing many many years ago and that perhaps when that person had passed away the relatives had sold it to the antique store.

It seems that Kakushin Baba (1889-1962) was a true mountain mystic, following in the footsteps of the Buddhist holy men who, since ancient times, had garnered physical and psychic powers by practicing austerities and tantric Buddhist rituals in the wild mountains of Japan. He had wandered through these mountains and one day had a vision of Kannon while standing under the waterfall reciting mantras. He then established a small temple in this sacred place and settled down here to live. All of the statues he carved, numbering around three hundred, were the result of his tantric Buddhist practices and meditations; he was not trained as an artist but felt compelled to carve what he witnessed in his visions.

We took a walk further up the mountain through the forest to a waterfall with more wonderful images carved by Kakushin, beside which there was a small rustic temple with a beautiful wooden carving of Kannon enshrined within it. This image, the first that Kakushin had carved after his initial vision of Kannon, was almost identical to my precious Kannon. And the date carved into the base of this waterfall Kannon was the same year as that carved into the base of my Kannon. As Mrs Baba exclaimed, "They are sisters!"

But that’s not the end of the story…

A 21st Century Miracle – Part II

2009-05-08T02:24:00.000-07:00

It was her face that immediately drew me to her, to this beautiful carved image of Kannon Bosatsu; her face was very simply carved and yet she expressed such a deep serenity, a knowing, a gentle voice calling…

In March 2008, I had been looking on the internet for a birthday gift for someone, when I stumbled upon a rather obscure antique auction site in Kyushu, Japan. The website was actually in German and was targeting the European antique market to sell its Japanese antiques. Among the offerings from this antique dealer was a small statue of Kannon, about 55cms high, carved from native Japanese timber. Although it was said that the statue was carved about 70 years ago, I could see immediately that she had been carved in the style of the ancient images of Kannon that I had seen in temples along the pilgrimage – images that date from about 6th century. The carving was quite primitive in a way but it was also very strong and gentle. It said in the description that this statue was from a demolished temple.

I was curious to see what the selling price would ultimately be on this fascinating statue, so I checked the listing regularly over the next week. However, very strangely, no one made any bid for it. I watched the listing up until just one minute before the close of the auction, and on a whim I submitted the minimum bid – just $99! My heart skipped a beat when I realised just moments later that I had won her!

She arrived just three days before I departed for my annual pilgrimage. Although she was very dusty and covered in grime as if she had been stored in an attic, she had such a serene and beautiful face; she exuded such a powerful sense of compassion, that I felt moved to tears when I looked upon her. There was something so special that radiated from her that I decided then and there to enshrine her as our principal image of veneration in Wabi’an.

As I started to carefully clean her, I noticed that on the base there was an inscription carved in Japanese letters. I translated the inscription to find that it had been carved by a Buddhist priest named Kakushin Baba, from a temple called Daioji, on November 7th in the 10th year of the Emperor Showa; that is, in 1935.

At this point, however, an anxious thought arose in my mind: What if this statue had been stolen from Daioji? What assurance did I have that this really was from a “demolished temple” as the description from the antique dealer had said? So I searched for the name of the temple on Japanese internet sites. I found a diary blog written by a Japanese hiker who talked about hiking recently in the mountains when he came to Daioji temple and discovered dozens of fascinating carved stone images of Buddhas strewn along the pathways in the mountain and beside two waterfalls nearby to the temple. I then checked a database of Japanese temples and found an address for Daioji, which I followed up with a satellite picture of the area. Sure enough, there were a number of buildings to be seen on the mountain that certainly did not look as though they were demolished! Isn’t it amazing what you can find on the internet?!

Well, having discovered that the temple was indeed still standing - what was I to do?

A 21st Century Miracle

2009-05-04T22:49:00.000-07:00

On my Kannon Pilgrimage I carried a sacred carved image of Ishin Kannon, who came to me in a miracle that could only have happened in the 21st century. Before I begin my account of my pilgrimage I want to share with you the story of how Ishin Kannon came to me.

But first, just what do I mean by “miracle”? In the West, miracles tend to be sacred events that seem to go against the laws of nature, like the loaves and fishes story of the Bible. In Japan however, there is no apparent separation between the sacred and the mundane, and so a miracle is any event in daily life that inspires a sense of awe and incredulity, such as an incredible coincidence or an event that is greatly against the odds. Any event that makes you say “Wow – that’s amazing!” might be a candidate for a miracle.

Therefore, winning lotto would be called a miracle in Japan, and in fact it is for this reason that Temple 23 of the pilgrimage – Katsuoji Temple – is called the “Winners Temple.” People come here to pray for success in business and other enterprises, to attract wealth, and to win lotto! In fact, Katsuoji was where the first national lottery of Japan was established many centuries ago. The temple has records dating back to its foundation in 727 that tell of the miracles that occured because people prayed here – including many winners of the lotteries. So if you want an amulet for help in attracting wealth or winning lotto let me know!

The story of how my Ishin Kannon came to me was just such a miracle – an event that inspires a “WOW!” response from all who hear this story… so stay tuned…