Visiting the Mountain Whose Name I Wear
This article was part of the Northern California Koyasan Buddhist Temple newsletter (Feb/March?)
Last month, my girlfriend Lisa and I returned from a three-week visit to Japan, and while we were there we visited Koyasan, the mountain center of Shingon Buddhism, during a trip to Wakayama to visit my family grave near Gobo-shi. Having had the opportunity to teach taiko and wear the name “Koyasan” while performing, it seemed only right to visit the head temple while we were so close. I wanted to share a few reflections from that trip with everyone here with sincere gratitude for the sangha.
Traveling inland to Koya Mountain by train, the coastal landscape gives way to majestic green valleys, lowland fields and towns surrounded by forested hills. As I tried to squeeze in some remote work on the nearly empty local train, I wished my office could be a train traveling through the mountains. As we approached the next stop, though, hundreds of young students crammed onto the train, reminding me why offices are offices and trains trains! We continued down the line and they trickled off, saying their temporary goodbyes, though a few of them stayed with us through one more train transfer and even up the cable car that climbed the side of the mountain as the last light of the sun disappeared from the sky - such a commute for these students who live atop Koyasan!
We stayed that night in the shukubo (temple lodging) of Saizen-in, which had a large tatami room, divided into a sleeping area and a main room with a kotatsu. It was quite comfortable, actually - far more like a hotel than what I imagined a pilgrim’s lodging to be. I think most of the other guests were also tourists, so perhaps this stay was catered as much. The temple had a sento, a public bath area, and to be honest, my American sensibilities did not make the thought of bathing naked with strangers that appealing. Thankfully, Lisa convinced me to give it a try - to not let ego or habit prevent me from the experience. The mark on the white board (COVID protocol) and single pair of slippers suggested only one person was using it. I stepped into the first room, where I saw one basket for clothes flipped over. I undressed and put my clothes in another. Okay, time to face my fears. I went into the second room and - nobody. So that’s how I took a bath with a ghost on a holy mountain.
The next morning, we attended a service where monks chanted a few sutras and we offered oshoko. The hondo was beautiful, with dozens of small, metal lanterns covering the ceiling. For some of the other guests, this seemed to be a new type of experience, but it struck me as altogether familiar and gave me a deep appreciation that far away, in America, Buddhist music, teachings, and attitudes were also part of the landscape. I really recommend going to Koya Mountain if you get a chance, but I also think it’s pretty special to go to the corner of U and 14th Street in Sacramento.
We had shojin ryori (a type of monks’ vegetarian cuisine) at the temple, too. As a vegetarian, it can be easy to miss a lot of the great food Japan has to offer (at least that’s what I’m told!), so it was nice to be able to have some storied Japanese cuisine of our own on our trip. For me, being a vegetarian comes with the implicit understanding of trading earthly pleasure for a sort of joy in compassion towards animals, but I still had some of the best food I’ve experienced on this trip, and I’m thankful for that life and the care of those who made it.
We explored some of the temples in the area, including Danjo-garan, a temple complex which included a brilliant vermillion and white pagoda that housed an enormous statue of Dainichi Nyorai, and Kongobu-ji, the head temple of Koyasan Shingon Buddhism. “Northern California Koyasan Temple Keigenji” was listed on a map of all the temples. (If you go to Google maps, you can walk through part of Kongobu-ji in “street view.”) There was so much to see on Koyasan, but I’ll focus my reflection on one lesson.
In Kongobu-ji, there are a series of masterfully painted screens that depict the life of Kobo Daishi. In these illustrations, we see depictions of his travels to China as part of a diplomatic mission, where he received teachings in Chinese Esoteric Buddhism from the master Huiguo. In the illustrations, we see that the young Kobo Daishi was studious and yet made many friends, who would gather by the river and improvise poetry. When it was time for him to return to Japan, there were many heartfelt goodbyes. In his lifetime, Kobo Daishi would contribute so much to what we know as Japanese culture, but that journey began as an open-minded “exchange student.” I think, even today when the world seems more connected than ever, there is so much we still have to learn from each other. I encourage all our young students to study hard, make time for friends, and to keep an open heart and mind.
I am grateful for the name “Kongo Gumi,” that Mimatsu sensei gave our new advanced taiko class. Through this trip, I feel as if I gained a much deeper appreciation of its meaning and the connection between taiko and Buddhism. I watched quite a bit of taiko in Japan, but only played once, at a temple in Kagawa (Doryu-ji, temple #77 of Shikoku’s Henro Pilgrimage), where a drum was left out for pilgrims. I played and sang “Ei Ja Nai Ka,” a Bon Odori song about the Japanese American experience. When I stopped playing, I realized other pilgrims had come, hearing the sound of the drums. We met a wisened, old traveler then, who asked us if it was a Buddhist song, and we explained that it was, but from America. Later, at a nearby store, the shopkeeper told us that in town today was a person who has traveled the Henro Pilgrimage 100 times. I wonder if that’s who we met!
I hope that we continue to meet people and share stories through taiko. I realize it’s been over a full year since I started teaching at Koyasan. I am incredibly grateful to everyone here for making me feel at home.
In gassho,
Gregory
