Beginning, Again

I don’t yet have words for this experience of pilgrimage, or of being a Henro, as we are called here. It’s utterly unlike anything I have undertaken before and it moves far too fast for reflection. To keep the thread, and because it seems true, I’ll just start by offering a few basic facts about our pilgrimage and some images of the first two days. When more words come, I will find my way here.

I will say that we wear a strange enough outfit We carry a walking stick with the heart sutra written on it We wear a hakui, or plain white jacket, and a wagesa, a ceremonial band around the neck that simulates buddhist robes . The color is not significant until you’ve done a lot of these pilgrimages. I chose blue because I also wear my new rakusu, the robe I sewed before leaving . We carry a small white shoulder bag containing candles, incense, and osamefuda or name slips, which we write nightly and leave at each temple . Also in the bag is the stamp book, where we receive a handmade calligraphy and stamps from each temple.

The ritual at each of the 88 temples is the same, though a couple of the initial steps can be left out if COVID has closed the washing trough or the bell. We bow outside the main gate and drop our packs somewhere. We stop and wash hands and mouth at a trough near the entrance (there is a specific, ancient, and safe method for this). We ring the giant temple bell to announce our arrival. We proceed to the main hall, which is nearly always locked, so we stand on the walkway outside. We light a candle, offer three sticks of incense, and chant the heart sutra, drop an osamefuda and a tiny donation. We then walk to the Daishi Hall, devoted to Kobo Daishi, also locked, and repeat the same steps. Sometimes there are other deities to visit. The most moving so far was a long walkway around the main hall at temple 4 with dozens of Kannon/Avalokiteshvara figures. I go to the stamp office (Dave has plenty of temple stamps from prior pilgrimages), hand the book to the attendant (there is a special way of doing this handoff), and watch her (nearly always her) do her magic with the brush and stamp She blots the page and closes the book. It goes back in the white bag, which we carry even when wearing our packs. I rejoin Dave, we grab our packs, bow outside the main gate, and head off down the road (and I mean road) to the next temple.

So far this has been the rhythm. We have walked 10 and 13 miles, the first two (short) days, visiting 5 or 6 temples each day. Occasionally the temple is a bit of a climb—one today had 333 steps (Nepal was in this way great preparation). Otherwise, the walking has been mostly flat but hard and hot—it’s been in the upper 70s. The white jacket is soaked through by the end of the day.

Tomorrow for the first time we head into the mountains for the notorious 6 hour walk up and down three ridges to temple 12. I’m pretty excited to see the mountains, truth be told. I know the day will be hard, but my new friend the sword-hugging dragon will be walking with me.

I have received so much support from so many people—teachers, friends, colleagues, healers—recently, over decades and even lifetimes, near, far. I started out offering bows of gratitude to all of you for this support, and I put it in words again here. If you think I’m thanking you, you can be sure: I am. Arigatogozaimasu.