The island of Shikoku, Japan, Sunday, the 17th of June, 2001

Today is a rest day. The first taken so far, although there was one day of sickness when a developing head cold kept me under the quilts for a day. On that day I looked like one of the thousands of little Buddha’s seen everywhere with a woolen hat on and covers pulled up under my chin. But today the rest is needed. Yesterday’s walk started near the last temple in the prefecture for Enlightenment. Ahead still is yet another series of formidable mountains and hard climbing to enter the prefecture associated with Nirvana. It is down to the last twenty or so temples. The accommodations today are at a mountain temple named Hashikura-ji. What makes this visit more unusual than most is it is a temple that is of the Buddhist Shingo sect, but has a Shinto god as its main deity.

The climb up can be eliminated if you take the cable car, or ropeway as they are known here. My budget wouldn’t stretch that far, and I don’t think they existed 1200 years ago, so I settled for a hand drawn map from the ropeway operator that successfully guided me on the ninety-minute climb. It was worth the effort, to arrive at the traditional Nio gate with its two guardians just after four in the afternoon, with the light starting to soften. From there, a steady walk along a boulevard of stone pillars commemorating donations from patrons of the temple, led to another steep climb of man made steps up to the complex. After that I understood why the ropeway is so popular.

Religious training in the mountains is one of the most striking features of Japanese Buddhism. Since ancient times Japanese people have had special feelings towards mountains, which bought not only blessings, but also misfortune. From early times mountains were worshipped as dwelling places for spirits from heaven. They were also believed to be places where souls of the dead rested in peace. Ascetic practice was done in order to attain mystical powers. Some of these practices included standing under waterfalls in winter, reciting mantras, or going without food for numerous weeks at a time. From time to time these Ascetics came down from the mountains and traveled around Japan preaching Buddhism and practicing magic in villages and towns. These people laid the foundation of the Shikoku pilgrimage long before the time of Kobo Daishi.

Hashikura-ji temple is attributed as being built by Kobo Daishi in 828 when he was led to this mountain by its strange sacred atmosphere. On the mountain he encountered a ‘gongen’ named Kompira, which is a Buddhist god, which has been changed into a Shinto god; it is half Buddhist and half Shinto. A further connection is that Kompira was originally the Indian crocodile god of the Ganges and is believed to be a god who protects fishermen and sailors.

Shinto, the indigenous religion of Japan has its roots in the prehistoric period. Originally it was primitive and unsystematic with no written scriptures, no founder, and no concept of ethics. It is based on a very primitive and instinctive human feeling towards life and nature on the one hand, with an appreciation of the blessing of life and fertility and, on the other, an abhorrence of death, calamities and misfortunes. It is an optimistic religion, which does not have the concept of original sin. In Shinto, man is by nature inherently good and this world is also inherently good. Evil always belongs to another world and comes from without. Shinto rites, therefore, put an emphasis on warding off misfortune and defilement on the one hand, and on seeking the cooperation of the god in advancing the happiness and peace of the individual person and the community. Primitive Shinto was an animistic worship of natural phenomena such as the sun, mountains, rivers, trees, rocks and some animals. Later the pantheon grew to appease spirits so that they did not become revengeful ghosts.

Understanding the foundations of the Shikoku pilgrimage helps in understanding why someone might want to undertake such a task; i.e. completing the circuit of 88 Temples.

Another striking feature of this temple is the Goma ritual of fire is performed every evening and each morning. In this setting, the altars are framed by small red Tori, and the position is alternated depending on whether it is the morning or the evening ritual. The roof is blackened from soot and sparks fly freely, mimicking fireflies against the steady draw of the numerous candles. There is no other light, and the chanting is mesmerizing as three voices and more than one hundred years of experience sit easily together. I have seen the Goma ritual performed by a woman Priest at the Temple Koonji and it was an intense experience. Saba Daishi was the first taste and there have been numerous others, but this ritual, combining Shinto with Buddhism has a mysterious dark edge to it.

Right now I am sitting in an alcove, watching a garden moving and nursing a slight headache. It is an old garden, more than three centuries established. It is so quiet, that the hard drive of the computer is making the loudest noise. Every so often a wind rustles through the firs behind the temple structures, creating diversion and forewarning of rain. Blossoms are falling from a branch where a bee is rummaging for nectar. The Priests just walked by, skimming their slippers along the wood and creating a draft as their silk robes brush past. The day has just disappeared through nothingness. A single nightingale sings its indefatigable song. The headache is from the encounter with some Sake last night.

Not that drinking Sake is the normal routine for this little Henro, but at least last night was incident free. Some time ago, at a different temple, there was another encounter, all starting out innocuous enough. The Temple Secretary there also invited me to take some and it seemed to be the tradition at suppertime where the Priests were imbibing fairly heartily. So I thought, “why not”, “what harm can come of this”, knowing full well that I am not a huge drinker at all, and being respectful of the punch that Sake has when it quietly slips behind your ears and knocks you out. So I took the small carafe and swallowed the first hot thimble full, then the second and before long, another warmed carafe appeared. I knew I was in trouble when I tried to recite the ‘Hannya Shingo’ and it came out as ‘Henro Bingo’ and ‘Gyate Gyate Harra Gyata’ was transposed as ‘Party Party Have a Party’ sounding like some Swedish Pop Group from last year. But I didn’t want to be rude to my hosts, who were showing no effects at all of course and were even polite enough to not comment with their eyebrows on my very creative foreign language skills.

Prayers were done, somehow, and with supper finished, it wasn’t long before the evening light became nighttime and everyone headed off to their quarters. I thought I managed that bit well enough, navigating to where I was sleeping AND remembering to slide, and not walk through the screen door. Shortly after rolling out the bedding and getting settled, Nature called. So, off to the ablution block I trotted. The slippers never fit, so keeping them on the feet is a big challenge at times. And when you get to the toilets, you have to change into the Toilet Slippers. God forbid if you get them mixed up! I have been gently berated more times than I care to mention for that oversight.

When I get to the toilets, I can’t find the light switch! After some thought I wasn’t even sure there was a light switch, given the pre-historic nature of the temple, so being bold and brave, I decided that I could handle this. There is a full moon and I know the general shape of the plan. In India, you back into the stalls so if you are interrupted, at least you can make eye contact, whereas in Japan you step up and go in front ways. An entirely different perspective altogether. Which is another challenge in it’s own right because the space between the standing block and the end wall are scaled Japanese size. (Which is not so convenient for this tall athletic Aussie woman size!)

The slipper change went well, and the first stall seemed handy enough.

I take a deep breath.

And in I go.

Going to the toilet in the dark is something that seems to be a psychological overhang from childhood days. There are reasons for having the light on at all times! The Boogie Man might come and get you. Or other horrible things might happen. You just never know! And if you grew up with out the benefits of a heated seat and a flushing mechanism, well, the danger is always lurking there. In Australia there is a very real fear of Red Back Spiders just waiting for fresh prey. There is even a song about it. As if getting to the outside Loo was not a journey filled with trepidation anyhow. There were ALWAYS monsters of undisclosed origin waiting for you, on the edge of the dark, just out of reach.

I am just getting comfortable in what I call the Starting Position for Rowing (because it is), flexing the injured knee first to make sure it has the right angle and wiggle the feet to optimize the space. The Yakata is pulled up high for safety reasons, and the routine check to see if there is handy paper is done by touch. Everything is OK. We have clearance from Houston. No sooner had this all been organized and bladder control was about to be relaxed, when something attacked my lower sumo regions, which propelled me into the straight standing up position, all 184 cm’s tall, which the cubicle was not built for, where upon I hit my head so hard on the ceiling that I saw stars and was convinced that my fillings had cracked, from which I then stumbled backwards, hitting the door with so much Re-entry Gravity Force that it must have hurt its hinges, flinging the door open wildly in the process and smashing it against its wall very noisily, finally falling down the twelve inch step, landing on my back like a dead cockroach, all legs and arms, severely winded and unable to move.

This is not how I envisioned Enlightenment at all.

There I was. Stark naked, flat on my back, drunk as a monk, literally stunned from the ordeal and hoping that nobody heard the ruckus. Hoping really hard too because I know how sound proof those little paper screens aren’t!

I couldn’t move no matter what I tried to do. I also couldn’t breath! In the process the Yakata jacket had rearranged itself and consequently served no purpose in providing privacy at all for any part of my body or limbs.

“That’s IT” I thought. “I really am a paraplegic now.”

Houston – we have a problem.

My head wouldn’t lift and I wasn’t sure I could feel my feet. Then again, I have been saying that since Temple Number Six, but now I am REALLY thinking there is no feeling.

My god! I could see the headlines now.

Just how inelegant can this all be?

So I have no choice but to lie there and wait a moment. Or two or three, blinking very hard to move the stars out of the line of sight and to try and bring perspective to the darkness. In the meantime my tongue is working its way around the inside of my mouth to see if I actually have any teeth left at all. Who cares about fillings at this point in time?

Little by little everything comes back into focus. Still on my back, I grab the edges of the Yakata and try to pull them around me. Eventually, well, it felt like eventually, I could prop myself up enough to try to stand up. I can see myself in the moonlight. It is not a pretty sight. My breathing is of somewhat regular fashion again, but shallow, and I can sit, then bend the knees, and finally, stand, although definitely a bit on the wobbly side. I even thought about going and getting my matches to use for light to see what happened or what was down there that did this thing. Then I remembered the email joke that circulates every so often about the Indonesian Man that went to the toilet, lit a match for his morning cigarette, then dropped it between his legs and promptly blew himself up because the Wife had used some chemicals in the bowl to kill off bugs. Now, that would have made another interesting headline.

So, I didn’t go and get the matches. Then there was the issue of the very full bladder, which was what started this whole series of events anyhow. Immediately I go into denial, risking a bladder infection in the process. There is no way I am going back into that dark space to do what I had intended to do. So off to the bedroom I shuffle. Around that ambiguous hour at dawn, totally sleep deprived, the announcement for breakfast came, and I promptly jumped up, regretting that idea instantaneously, slipped on the Yakata again, slid on the slippers and scampered off to the dining room. With practice, you don’t even think about them after a while, and intuitively walk in and out of them with ease. I knelt down at the table, only to have to Temple Secretary poke his head in the dining room momentarily, holding up my slippers.

“Oh Zen-san” he says, giggling and with a definitely twinkle in his eyes. “Would you like some Sake with your breakfast?” at which point he turned the slippers around for me to see. There was one regular one and one from the toilet. I was mortified and blushing profusely. He was laughing outright and before long it was about all I could do too. My suspicions were confirmed. A slipper had been sacrificed to the unknown inhabitant of the dark. And with that he left me in peace – an uneasy peace as I wondered just how much of last night did he hear?

When I finished breakfast, I made a bathroom stop (yes, there really was one slipper missing), checked for more undisclosed damage, checked again to see if there might even be a crocodile living down there, quickly changed into regular clothes and packed up ready to walk on. He came out to farewell me and through the pleasantries, gifted me a small container of Sake! I was stunned!! But I accepted it, and passed it along to my hosts at the next Inn where I stayed. They thought I was rather special and wonderful and I hoped that they never hear of what happened. The headache lasted well into the next day of walking.

But today’s headache is manageable. And I checked. There are light switches AND flashlights, just in case. And I have chanted at the Fire Ritual twice today, so that has to count for something as insurance against Kompira. Then again, you just never know with these mountain Temples, and creatures that live on the edge of darkness.

Zen