Pilgrimage 67 - Toko-zan Kazan-in Bodai-ji (東光山 花山院 菩提寺）

Wilderness derived,
these hills retain mystery.
Going up the path,
red and yellow glimmer from trees
where bush warbler sang, in spring.

Bodai-ji, a temple founded in the seventh century near the crest of Mt. Amida, about 400 meters (roughly 1300 ft) above sea level. The main object of worship is the Medicine Buddha (Yakushi Nyorai 薬師如来), although beside the small temple housing a statue of that buddha there is a Kannon-do, which is said to house a statue of a sitting eleven-headed Kannon （十一面観音）and a statue of the cloistered ex-emperor Kazan （花山法皇）more commonly known as Kazan-in (花山院).

From Nakayama-dera, Kazan-in is a good day's walk. Following highway 176 on to the west, then at Sanda branching off on route 37 and then 49, one is taken further and farther into the country. The roads narrow, approach the foothills, follow along rivers, valleysides, fields, houses. The one of the lakes around Kazan-in, especially, is developing as a place for people to build bungalos for summer retreats from the city. Central to this backcountry is a small mountain named Arima, called "Arima Mt. Fuji" because it resembles that famous mountain. From Kazan-in there is a beautiful view of this mountain, the lake to the left of it, and the range of hills in the distance.


Kazan-in is said to have lived here during the latter part of his life, and thus it's connection with the Saikoku Pilgrimage. It is the third of the three "extra" temples on the route. Kazan-in is said to have been followed here by a number of his ladies-in-waiting. Not allowed to go up the mountain to the temple, they lived as nuns at the base of it. The graves of eleven of them, and a monument to the woman whose death was instrumental in his decision to give up the throne, are located there, in a place now called "Inji," "nun's temple." It is said that on occasion these women would be allowed to go part way up the mountain and play the koto for the ex-emperor, and this place became known as "Koto saka," or Koto Slope. He is said never to have gone down to be with them.



Viens of valleys
as though an ancient handprint
left on a beach,
now filled with hesitant mists
waiting for the rain to come.



A small grove of trees
shelters small, ancient grave stones--
while through the pines
in the whisper of the wind
comes the echo of a harp.



By the tall reeds
where the river's water whitens,
a grey heron
hunched down against winter winds
motionlessly watches the flow.



One maple tree
protected by the others
is still green--
among falls brilliance
the calm glow of spring.



When the rain stops
and the fog begins to clear,
suddenly
Mt. Arima emerges
above an ocean of clouds.



Absorbed,
my mind becomes a compass
drawing an arc
soaring high as a brown hawk
then gliding across the landscape.



An inlet of clouds
with a few mountain islands
begins to shimmer--
both the past and the future
fade as the sun reappears.



Leaving the narrow highway and heading up the road to the temple, my mind goes back over Kazan-in (968-1008), and his life. There is a connection with my own in that he was closely associated with the first classical poet whose works I studied in some detail -- Fujiwara no Kinto (966-1041). That was thirty years ago, and at that time I was more interested in Kinto's use of waka as an aid to meditation than I was in Kazan-in and the pilgrimage. The weather is grey, and I am worried that it may rain.

Arriving at the temple precincts, I purify myself by pouring water over my hands and rinsing out my mouth, then go on through the gate and up the steps to the area where the temple buildings are. First, I go over to the small temple dedicated to the worship of Kannon, take off my shoes, and go up to pray. Noticing that the sliding door to the inner shrine is partly open, I go inside, sit down on the straw mats, and pray. My mind fills with images of this place, of Kazan-in, and of Kannon. As an incredible warmth fills me, I pray for all those who are suffering, that they may find peace. While I am in there the rain starts.

After waiting for a bit, I decide to go on out and look around. To the right of the temple is a small pond, in which is a tiny temple--no doubt to Benzai Ten (Sarasvati, worshipped in Japan as the protector of pure water), and further to the right the main temple, which is dedicated to the worship of Yakushi Nyorai. I pray there as well, also for the relief of suffering. Then I go over to the tall monument and collection of smaller monuments or grave stones. The tall one is dedicated to Kazan-in, who is said to have died at this temple. I pray there as well, and then go back to the Kannon temple and head to the left, past several shrines, to the priest's quarters and another temple building. From this small complex the view must be spectacular. The rain is falling harder now, and I lean against the steps up to the veranda of the temple building, in order to keep out of the rain. The warmth which I felt when praying at the Kannon temple has stayed with me. Indeed, the intensity of the spirituality of the place continues to grow in me. I feel that if someone were to invite me to stay there I would immediately say yes.

Standing looking out into the vast emptiness of space that I know is there but which is now completely enveloped in fog, an image of the ex-emperor Kazan comes clearly to mind. I see him there, looking out into the fog as I am now, day after day, season after season. He died when he was 41, as did my brother. I pray for his peace, and for that of my brother, and his three daughters. I pray again for those who are suffering, for those who have caused suffering, both knowingly and unknowingly. For a brief period of about fifteen minutes the rain stops and the sky partially clears. Mt. Arima emerges, an island above an ocean of clouds. (In fact, the Japanese call these clouds "unkai" -- cloud ocean, so I'm merely translating, not making up a nice image. :) ) The view is breathtaking. I feel an attachment to this place unlike any of the temples I have visited so far. I let it grow on me, absorb it into me, feel it entering not merely my soul but my whole being, and know it will stay with me when leave.

When the rain lets up again I head down the hill, but by the time I reach the highway the rain is falling harder than before. Close by there is a bus stop with a small shelter, and I sit on the bench out of the rain and wait for it to let up. Adjusting my posture, I begin to meditate, and continue my prayers.

It is late afternoon when the rain lets up and I can continue on my journey to the next temple on the pilgrimage route, temple 25, Kiyomizu-dera (Mitake-san). This temple was founded by Hodo Sennin, the same man said to have founded Kazan-in Bodai-ji.

For pictures of Kazan-in Bodai-ji and Mt. Arima (which has a height of 374 meters, or 1227 ft. ), see 秋の花山院（２）[= Kazan-in in Autumn (2) ]
http://www.mars.dti.ne.jp/~osami/inpaku/photo/photo018.html
(I haven't been able to determine the name of the photographer, but it may be Osami)
or 番外　花山院　("Unnumbered," or "Extra" Kazan-in)
http://www.kansaihokenlife.co.jp/part/saigoku33/kazanin.htm

For a picture of a modern koto, with the names of the various parts of the instrument given in both Japanese and English, see
http://www.geocities.jp/futamiya_gakki/kototisiki.html
Exactly what kind of koto these ladies would have been playing in the eleventh century is a matter of some dispute. There were several differnt kinds of koto -- of varing lengths, with varying numbers of strings.