Another Unveiling

Back in Nepal, I had a palpable experience of veils lifting and finding access to a place from which I had previously felt separate and disconnected. I had a not dissimilar experience today here on Shikoku. I’m not fool enough to announce the end of tangaryo, when I don’t know the rules of this island of temples, but the timing is at least … interesting. Right on schedule, at least based on the schedule of my own training, something changed today, at the beginning of the sixth day.

What changed, for me, was rooted in the temples themselves. We visited two today, temples 20 (Kakurinji) and 21 (Tairyūji). The day involved two steep but not excessively long climbs, and two steep and similarly timed downhill sections. Each of the temples was at the top of a ridge, and each had gifts to offer. What gifts, though, I did not anticipate.

We were fueled by a night with the kindest inn owner (and best cook) I have encountered so far on my journey. We only found her through one of Dave’s friends, who arranged for us to stay there when we couldn’t find anywhere else (this is a theme to which I expect I will return). A recent widow, the 76-year old owner of the minshuku runs the family farm, which has been growing mikan, or satsuma, for 11 generations. From the moment we, the only guests, approached her house, she was full of laughter, thoroughly engaged, and utterly welcoming. She ate with us, fed us numerous locally grown foods, including rice she had cooked up with fresh maitake mushrooms, shared stories of a daughter who has lived all over Europe, and made us coffee in the morning. As soon as I first caught sight of her, I have to say, I had a feeling something had shifted.

We left this morning a bit late. She tried to convince me to come back and visit and learn the satsuma business, and that and taking some photos made for a slow start up the first hour and a half-long climb. Approaching temple 20’s main gate, I noticed two giant birds guarding the entrance, just in the place where the Guardian Kings (Niō) would usually sit. They looked vaguely familiar, but I wasn’t awake enough yet to know into whose presence I had climbed. Dave pointed out more of the same birds all over the temple, and only then did he make clear that Kakurin in Japanese means … grove of cranes. I had just been showing the owner of the inn some of the videos I took of the cranes in Mustang, and it felt almost as though I was running into them again, just as I imagined I would, on their own home territory.

I completed the ceremonies at the temple with extra attentiveness, and bought a little handkerchief with a crane on it to remind me (I keep needing to be reminded of this apparently) that things can shift without warning at any time. We descended steeply for an hour or so, but I felt appreciably lighter already. At one point, we heard the sound of huge wings breaking the air above us as a large bird flew up out of the forest overhead. All I can say is, we never saw the bird, but it was huge.

The climb up to Tairyūji was steep and bracing. I felt lightness in my legs for the first time since arriving, and notwithstanding the sweat soaking my face and back, I thoroughly enjoyed the hour and a half climb back up to the next ridge. Temple 21 is a vast complex, sometimes called little Kōyasan. I saw administrative buildings, a treasure stupa (a beautiful and huge round building housing the Buddhist scriptures that we have seen at a few temples), temples devoted to the primary deities, and dragons … everywhere. Tairyūji, Dairyūji: this is the Great Dragon temple.

I had read that 21 was one of the few temples on Shikoku where Kōbō Daishi is recorded to have practiced. It is said that at the age of 19 he sat for 100 days on a high promontory overlooking the mountains practicing. During the time he sat there, a dragon watched over and guarded him. In addition to images of dragons all over the temples, the main attraction of 21 is a huge statue of Kōbō Daishi about 15 minutes walk above the temple. He is seated on a high rock outcropping and one must use chains to climb up and visit him. Sitting at his feet, looking out over the mountains and valleys, all I could think was—for the first time since arriving—now THIS is a place I could imagine practicing. Especially if I had the company of a great dragon.

We ate lunch and started our descent, the last hill section we’ll do for quite a while. As we descended along a river, I kept thinking about how Suzuki Roshi, the founder of my own lineage, must have felt being at Tassajara. The landscape is not so different from the mountains and waters of Japan. I thought that maybe he arrived in America and felt dislocated and separate, and maybe, just maybe, when he arrived at Tassajara, the veils lifted.