The Maeda Clan’s Legacy, Kenrokuen Garden, and Translucent Gold Leaf

Kanazawa is the capital of Ishikawa Prefecture, about midway up the western coast of Honshu. The name Kanazawa, meaning “marsh of gold,” is said to have come from a story of a man who washed gold dust from freshly dug potatoes into a well. Today, the Kinjo Reitaku well, where those gold-dusted potatoes were rinsed, is located on the grounds of Kenrokuen Garden and stands as a reminder of the city’s golden legacy.

Kanazawa’s history dates back approximately 500 years to the Kaga Ikkō-ikki, a 15th-century conflict between the ruling samurai class and the Ikkō, militant followers of Jōdo Shinshū (True Pure Land Buddhism). This diverse group, which included monks, priests, townspeople, and farmers, emerged victorious and established Kanazawa as “The Peasants’ Kingdom.” Free from samurai rule, the government of Japan’s sole Buddhist fiefdom was based at Kanazawa Mido, a temple complex built in the mid-16th century on what is now the grounds of Kanazawa Castle.

“The Peasants’ Kingdom” came to a sudden end in 1580 when Oda Nobunaga’s forces, led by Shibata Katsuie and Sakuma Morimasa, stormed into the city. Following the conquest, Nobunaga gave Morimasa control of Kaga Province.

However, after Nobunaga’s death in 1582, Toyotomi Hideyoshi reassigned the province to Maeda Toshiie, a wise and accomplished samurai general. Toshiie’s ceremonial entry into Kanazawa on June 14, 1583, marked the start of the modern development of Kanazawa. The Maeda clan built Kanazawa Castle on the former site of the Mido temple, and they transformed the surrounding temple town into a new castle town.

For 285 years, the Maeda clan governed Kaga Province, present-day Ishikawa and Toyama Prefectures. One of the largest domains of the Edo period, Kaga had a rice yield of approximately 1.2 million koku—enough to support an army of 1.2 million men, as one koku (150 kilograms/331 pounds) was considered the amount needed to feed one man for a year. This vast yield made the Maedas the wealthiest feudal lords of the Edo period after the Tokugawa shoguns. Under the Maeda clan’s benevolent rule, Kanazawa flourished as their political, economic, and cultural center, and became one of Japan’s leading castle towns.

The third lord of Kaga, Maeda Toshie’s son Toshitsune, was the first to transport his rice taxes, 100 koku, by ship southwest around Honshu and up to Osaka, laying the foundation for what was to become the Kitamaebune trade route. He also led the largest contingent to support Tokugawa Ieyasu during the siege of Osaka in 1615. Following their victory over the Hideyoshi clan, Ieyasu offered Toshitsune the island of Shikoku in exchange for his Kaga domain. Toshitsune declined, and we can be glad he did.

The city developed around Kanazawa Castle, which shaped the layout of its streets, neighborhoods, gardens, and sophisticated water systems. Many Buddhist temples were relocated to the city’s outskirts to act as defensive perimeters, while Ikkō temples—historically linked to rebellious activities—were moved within the town for closer supervision. To mitigate the risk of uprisings, non-Ikkō temples were strategically placed to oversee the Ikkō sect temples.

The Maeda lords prioritized culture and education over military strength. They invited scholars and master artisans from across Japan, fostering the development of Kutani ware ceramics, lacquerware, metal casting, tea ceremony, Noh theater, and the geisha arts. This cultural patronage extended beyond the samurai elite, touching the lives of townspeople and granting them access to a level of sophistication rarely available in other regions.

By the late 19th century, Kanazawa had become Japan’s fourth-largest city, following Tokyo, Osaka, and Kyoto. However, the Meiji Restoration of 1868 shifted the political landscape, stripping the Maeda clan of power and centralizing authority in Tokyo. As Japan modernized, attention and resources were increasingly focused on the growing metropolises of Tokyo, Osaka, and Nagoya. As Kanazawa was left behind, its economy declined, threatening the continuation of its once-flourishing traditional crafts and cultural practices. Yet, its craftsmen and artisans carried on.

During the 20th century, Kanazawa was spared the devastation of World War II largely due to its limited industrial and military importance and its somewhat isolated position on Japan’s west coast. This fortunate outcome, combined with the city’s peaceful history under the Maeda clan during the Edo Period and its relative lack of natural disasters, has allowed entire districts of Edo-era architecture to survive intact.

In the post-war era, as Japan underwent rapid economic growth and globalization, Kanazawa drew on its rich cultural and intellectual heritage to merge its traditional crafts with contemporary art, nurturing a new creative cultural industry. This dedication to preserving and evolving its artistic legacy earned Kanazawa recognition as a UNESCO City of Crafts and Folk Art in 2009. The relocation of the National Crafts Museum from Tokyo to Kanazawa in 2020 further underscored this status. 

The legacy of the Maedas’ investment in the arts remains evident today. Kanazawa is well-known for its traditional crafts, including gold and silver leaf work, lacquerware, ceramics, and silk production, as well as its performing arts, such as Noh theater and geisha.

Kenrokuen, One of Japan’s Three Great Gardens

Japan has a well-known affection for “Three Greats,” a cultural quirk I’ve written about before. Tracing back to at least 1899, a beautiful example is the Three Great Gardens—Kairakuen in Mito, Kōrakuen in Okayama, and Kenrokuen in Kanazawa.

Each of these Three Greats is a strolling garden created by feudal lords near their castles in the early Edo era. One theory as to why those gardens were chosen is linked to the classic imagery of “snow, moon, and flowers” (雪月花). Kairakuen (偕楽園), famed for its 3,000 plum trees, evokes flowers (花). The stillness of the pond in Kōrakuen (後楽園) mirrors the moon (月). And Kenrokuen (兼六園) dazzles with the snow-draped beauty of its trees supported by yukitsuri (雪).

Kenrokuen, the jewel of Kanazawa, covers 114,436 square meters and has been open to the public since 1874. Its story began in 1676 when Maeda Tsunanori, the 5th lord of the Kaga Domain, laid the foundations with a landscape garden called Renchitei. A fire destroyed it in 1759, but the family restored it by 1774. In 1822, its name was changed to Kenrokuen, meaning “Garden of Six Elements,” a nod to a classical Chinese poem that elucidates the six contrasting qualities of an ideal garden: vast space, quiet seclusion, human artistry, timeless elegance, flowing water, and sweeping vistas. The poem suggests that uniting all six is nearly impossible—yet a walk through Kenrokuen proves otherwise.

As you wander its paths, these elements unfold naturally. The garden’s oldest fountain, Japan’s first powered by natural water pressure, marries human ingenuity with the rush of flowing water, its height rising and falling with the level of the nearby pond from which its stream flows. The terrain shifts subtly from secluded resting spots to sudden, expansive views, like the Kasumigaike pond that reflects the surrounding greenery and sky.

When the haiku poet Matsuo Basho visited Kanazawa in 1689 he left the following, now inscribed in stone:

あかあかと、日はつれなくも、秋の風

bright red burning
bitter sun…
but autumn in the wind

A small war memorial in the park, the Meiji Memorial, was erected in 1880 to honor 400 soldiers from Ishikawa Prefecture who lost their lives quelling a rebellion in southern Kyushu. The statue is cast in the form of the mythical hero Yamato Takeru, who, according to ancient legend, also suppressed a rebellion in Kyushu.

Gold Leaf

Gold leaf production in Kanazawa began in the late 16th century under the rule of the Maeda clan. While the Maeda actively promoted this art, their ambitions were curtailed by the Shogunate, which confined gold leaf production to designated regions like Edo and Kyoto. It wasn’t until these restrictions were lifted following the Meiji Restoration in the late 19th century that Kanazawa’s gold leaf industry blossomed into a public art form.

The process of creating gold leaf is both intricate and labor-intensive. It begins with a gold alloy—blended with traces of silver and copper—rolled into thin sheets by a mill. These sheets are then placed between layers of hakuuchi-gami, a handmade washi paper essential to the process. To make this paper, white washi is soaked in a brew of straw-ash lye, hot water, egg white, and persimmon tannin, then dried and pounded for three months until it becomes a smooth, durable, brownish sheet. The paper’s quality determines how thinly and uniformly the gold can be stretched.

The gold alloy is sandwiched between sheets of bound hakuuchi-gami, and machine-pounded for three days until it reaches an astonishing thinness of 0.0001 millimeters—so thin the gold leaf becomes translucent. Kanazawa produces 99% of Japan’s gold leaf and all of its silver and platinum leaf. Known collectively as Kanazawa haku, these delicate sheets are a shining example of the city’s traditional handicrafts.

I could go on about the wonders of Kanazawa—three geisha districts where working geiko bring history to life; the breathtaking garden behind Oyama Shrine and another in the Nomura Samurai House; the world-class museums; the Noh theater; and the bustling Omicho Market running over with fresh seafood and energetic merchants. It’s no wonder that Kanazawa is one of my favorite cities. The lingering influence of the Maeda clan radiates through its prosperity, timeless traditions, and continually evolving arts. I hope you will one day have the chance to experience this beautiful city.

The post Kanazawa’s Impressive Golden Culture first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

The ultimate in sacrifice for others

For centuries, some individuals in Japan willingly underwent the grueling process of sokushinbutsu, 即身仏, self-mummification. This extreme ritual was believed to lead to enlightenment and would transform the practitioner into a Living Buddha. The characters of sokushinbutsu—即 “at once,” 身 “this body,” and 仏 “Buddha”—reveal its meaning. These transcendent beings are revered for their ultimate sacrifice, having dedicated themselves to alleviating the suffering of others caused by illness, epidemics, and famines. 

Self-mummification dates back to ancient China and was later brought to Japan, where it evolved under the influence of Kūkai (774–835), the founder of Shingon Buddhism. Kūkai’s esoteric teaching emphasized that through rigorous spiritual practice, one could attain Buddhahood in their present existence — a concept known as sokushin jōbutsu. 

According to tradition, Kūkai himself achieved this state over 1,200 years ago. Today, he remains in eternal meditation within his mausoleum at Okunoin—an expansive, ancient cemetery within the Kōyasan temple complex in Wakayama Prefecture. To this day, monks continue to offer him meals each morning and night.

Dewa Sanzan

I was given the rare opportunity of visiting one of these living Buddhas in the mountains of the Dewa Sanzan, which consists of the sacred peaks of Mount Haguro, Mount Gassan, and Mount Yudono in northern Yamagata Prefecture. The Dewa Sanzan is home to the most known sokushinbutsu, with six of Japan’s 18 known mummies, although both these numbers are disputed.

I use the term “known” because, at the start of the Meiji era (1868–1912), self-mummification was outlawed, and the locations of those who had recently undergone the process were lost. Many more sokushinbutsu may remain hidden in remote mountain regions, still waiting to be exhumed. In fact, several previously unknown mummies were discovered by chance in 1959.

But sokushinbutsu are not the only mummies in Japan. Four generations of the Northern Fujiwara family were embalmed, mummified, and interred beneath the altars of the golden Konjikidō at Chūsonji temple in Iwate Prefecture. Well, only the head of the youngest.

How to become a living Buddha

Achieving self-mummification required adhering to a strict diet, sometimes for as long as ten years, to prevent decomposition after eventual death by starvation. The practitioner undertook mokujiki shugyō, “tree eating,” to reduce body tissue as much as possible. Practitioners abstained from eating gokoku-dachi, the five staple grains—rice, barley, soybeans, foxtail millet, and proso millet. Instead, they consumed the products of the forest, such as nuts, berries, pine needles, bark, resin, and the cores of bamboo leaves. As the months passed, the amount eaten was reduced.

The idea was to eliminate all fat and any substances that could contribute to bodily decay after death. The long, slow process of deliberate desiccation began with the body burning fat, which reduced subcutaneous fat and moisture levels—primary causes of decay. The practitioner would remain still, allowing the body to consume muscle as an alternate source of glucose.

To help the body become less prone to decomposition, some practitioners are thought to have consumed pine-needle tea or urushi, the sap of the lacquer tree. Pine-needle tea is believed to destroy gut bacteria, preventing them from consuming the body post-mortem. Similarly, drinking urushi may have served as a form of internal preservation, helping to deter decay.

This torturous lifestyle continued for 3,000 days—days filled with the chanting of sutras. When his body had withered to little more than skin and bones, the practitioner moved to an underground chamber, about three meters deep, where he was essentially buried alive. A bamboo tube inserted through the ceiling provided oxygen. 

In the complete darkness of this nyūjō-zuka, chamber of enlightenment, he sat meditating, fasting, and chanting sutras while ringing a bell. When the bell ceased to ring, it signaled he had entered metsushinjō — the extinction of the mind and attainment of stillness. His chamber was then sealed for three years.

This ritual was beyond harsh, and it was hardly foolproof. Many who attempted the process failed, dying before they achieved their goal. Or perhaps their bodies decayed even after enduring the severe 3,000-day regimen.

Shonin Honmyōkai

The sokushinbutsu that I encountered was at the Honmyōji temple in Tsuruoka, Yamagata. His name is Shonin Honmyōkai, and he entered nyūjō in 1683.

In his youth, he was a samurai named Togashi Yoshibei, who served the Shonai clan. When he was 39, his lord became deathly ill. Yoshibei and other vassals went to sacred Mount Yudono to pray for his healing. His lord was, indeed, healed.

But, instead of returning to the service of his lord, as was expected, Yoshibei stayed on Mount Yudono to continue his Buddhist prayers. Enraged by what he saw as desertion, his lord punished him by canceling his marriage and withholding his salary. Undeterred, Yoshibei entered Chūrenji Temple as a disciple and took the name Honmyōkai to mark the beginning of his new life of asceticism. The “kai” in his name is the kanji kai 海, taken in honor of Kūkai.

Moved by the hardships and recurring famines endured by the villagers living near the temple, he resolved to become a Buddha who could intercede on their behalf. He yearned to help ease their suffering and save them from their difficult lives. With this goal in mind, he began his nine-year process of self-mummification.

Honmyōkai endured a life of extreme asceticism. He slept outside, experienced countless insect bites, and ate and slept little. From a spot overlooking settlements and fields, he ceaselessly prayed for the local people’s prosperity and chanted sutras. As the years passed, his body gradually shrank and lost strength.

When sufficiently weak, he did what he could to help prepare the chamber where he would be entombed. In the darkness of this underground crypt, he continued to pray and chant. Finally, his bell ceased to ring, and those keeping vigil knew that he had entered nyūjyō—the state of eternal meditation transcending ordinary consciousness, as Kūkai had done before him.

His tomb was sealed. 

A Living Buddha

Three years later, Honmyōkai’s tomb was opened to see if he had succeeded with mummification and had thus attained a high spiritual state. His body was completely preserved. He had become a Living Buddha and could intercede for those in need. Since then, he has been enshrined at Honmyōji temple as a Buddha. He is still worshipped today.

Every twelve years, his garments are changed in a solemn and private ritual. His old robes are cut, and small pieces are enclosed in cloth packets sold as omamori, charms believed to bring blessings and protection to those who carry them. 

As the priest of Honmyōji reminded me, the blessings and conveniences we enjoy today are thanks to the sacrifices and efforts of those who came before us — Honmyōkai and countless others. This humbling realization behooves us to follow in their footsteps, ensuring future generations inherit a world enriched by our efforts, kindness, and commitment to the greater good of humanity.

The post Sokushinbutsu—The Fascinating Practice of Self-Mummification to Attain Buddhahood first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

Inextricably woven into the tapestry of culture

A walk down the hill from my house takes me to the grounds of a Shinto shrine. For more than 250 years, though, that shrine had been a Buddhist temple.

Remnants of those former years are kept in a small clearing in the forest near the shrine — a broken Nio Guardian deity and some statues that have been repaired after being defaced, mossy gravestones and gorintō (small stone pagodas used as memorials for the dead) gathered together after having been scattered in the forest.

This is not unusual. A visit to any temple in my prefecture of Kagoshima reveals the same troubled past. Yet, despite this unfortunate historical episode of widespread destruction, Buddhism has had a tremendous influence in Japan, profoundly impacting the culture.

One school of Buddhism, Zen, gave birth to many of the arts we consider quintessentially Japanese —

• Noh theater

• Ikebana flower arranging

• Tea ceremony

• Japanese ink painting

What is Buddhism?

Buddhism, practiced by seven percent of the world’s population, offers humanity a path to escape the endless cycle of death and rebirth known as samsara. To the Buddhist, the root cause of all suffering is desire, so the goal is to free oneself from earthly desires and accumulate enough good karma so that one can attain enlightenment. Enlightened ones are themselves buddhas, omniscient beings who have transcended human desires and entered the state of nirvana.

How one reaches this goal differs according to the various Buddhist schools of thought.

Origins

Buddhism’s founder, Siddhartha Gautama, was born a prince in southern Nepal in 563 BC. He left his courtly life in search of meaning, and through his years of wanderings, developed what has come to be known as Buddhist philosophy. After his death, his teachings were transcribed by his followers. These texts are the sutras still read and chanted today at Buddhist temples.

Early Japanese Buddhism

Buddhism was brought from the Korean peninsula to Japan in the 6th century. After initial resistance by certain influential clans, this new religion was adopted by the ruling class.

Towards the end of the 6th century, Regent Prince Shotoku made Buddhism the national religion. He ordered the building of the Hōryuji temple in his capital, which still stands as the oldest wooden structure in the world and a UNESCO Cultural Heritage.

During this period, Buddhism was a monastic religion set up as the protector of the nation.

Nara era (710-794)

In the 8th century, after a smallpox outbreak wiped out one-third of the Japanese population, Emperor Shōmu ordered temples and nunneries to be established in each province to protect their areas from epidemics and bad harvests.

Beyond their spiritual functions, temples served as centers for education and culture, as well as hospitals and refuges. Many well-educated Buddhist monks headed large engineering projects, overseeing the financing and construction of waterworks and roads.

Temples were granted tax exempt status, and it wasn’t long before corruption took hold. To combat this, Emperor Shōmu sent emissaries to China to bring back a monk capable of establishing official precepts for the ordination of Buddhist monks. The chosen monk was Ganjin, already in his 50s, whose journey to Japan was thwarted by storms and shipwrecks. After five failed attempts, and being blinded from an infection contracted during a shipwreck, Ganjin, at the age of 66, persevered one last time. On his sixth attempt in 754, he finally set foot on southern Kyushu.

Ganjin set up Japan’s first ordination platform at Todaiji temple in Nara, then one at Dazaifu, “The Western Capital” in northern Kyushu, and another in Tochigi. With hopes of keeping the purity of Buddhist belief unspoiled, he codified the precepts for priests.

Shinbutsu shugo

Over the centuries, Buddhism merged with Shinto, Japan’s indigenous religion, and a uniquely Japanese belief system developed known as Shinbutsu Shugo, 神仏習合. Buddhist temples were built on the grounds of Shinto shrines, and vice versa, demonstrating devotion to both Shinto kami (gods) and Buddhas. One school of thought was that fallible kami needed Buddhist teachings to grow and learn, just like humanity, while another professed that high Shinto kami were manifestations of certain Buddhas. Nevertheless, these two religions coexisted in harmony for centuries.

During the 8th century, three main schools of Buddhism — Ritsu, Kegon, and Hossō —developed and began wielding significant influence on the Imperial Court. So significant, in fact, that one Buddhist priest attempted to take the throne.

Heian era (794-1185)

To distance the Imperial Court from the reach of the influential Buddhists in Nara, Emperor Kanmu moved the capital to Heian-Kyo, now Kyoto, at the end of the 8th century. At first, only two temples were allowed within the new capital, To-ji and Sai-ji, the Eastern and Western Temples. To-ji remains today much as it has for the last 1,200 years.

Esoteric Buddhism

In the 9th century, two monks brought back different schools of esoteric Buddhism from China — Saicho, who founded the Tendai religion, and Kūkai, who founded Shingon.

Both schools espoused the concept of an eternal and universal Buddha, with Siddhartha Gautama, the historical Buddha, a manifestation of this cosmic spirit. According to this philosophy, within every being resides an element of the cosmic Buddha, so all could develop their inborn Buddha nature and attain salvation.

Commonalities among these sects include the concepts of karma and rebirth, monasticism, and the importance of self-discipline. Their teachings held that as long as individuals remained attached to desire, suffering was inevitable. To break free from the cycle of suffering and rebirth, entering a monastery for study and the practice of asceticism was considered the most effective path.

Tendai, Shingon, and all further schools of Buddhism share the belief in bodhisattvas, individuals who have accumulated enough merit—good karma—to attain nirvana and escape the cycle of rebirth. This they selflessly gave up to help others on their journeys toward enlightenment. Similar to saints in Christianity, believers pray to compassionate bodhisattvas for guidance, help, and protection.

Tendai

Saicho, convinced of the necessity for self-guidance and spiritual enlightenment, established the Enryakuji temple complex on Mount Hiei, northeast of Kyoto. There, monks could immerse themselves in extensive learning, with abundant books, and a minimum of food, clothing, and shelter — the perfect environment to lay aside physical desires and strive for enlightenment.

Saicho envisioned Enryakuji as a university of sorts, where monks could be educated in all Buddhist teachings, regardless of sect. The temple complex evolved into a center of Japanese higher learning and Buddhist study, instrumental in the education of future founders of various Buddhist schools.

In the Tendai tradition, believers sought Buddhahood through the cyclical process of death and rebirth, laying aside desires, accumulating karma, and ultimately paving the way to nirvana. As well, Saicho advocated for the monks to use their knowledge and skills to contribute to the well-being of the nation.

Shingon

After returning from China, Kūkai set up his headquarters on Mount Kōya, in the mountains of Wakayama, south of Kyoto.

Kūkai emphasized to his followers that the path to enlightenment could only be truly grasped under the guidance of teachers, ideally within a monastery. Shingon monks dedicated their time to meditating, using

• mandalas — sacred images depicting the cosmic Buddha’s boundless power
• mantras — sacred words; Shingon means mantra, or “true word”
• mudras — sacred hand positions

In contrast to the Tendai tradition, Kūkai taught that the ultimate aim of meditation and study was union with the cosmic Buddha during one’s lifetime. Dedicated practitioners of Shingon could reach the point of satori, enlightenment while still in existence.

Although Kūkai established the first school for commoners at Tōji temple in Kyoto, Buddhism continued to be predominantly practiced by the aristocracy.

Pure Land Buddhism

Jōdo-shu

In the 10th century, the Pure Land school of thought rose from the ground of Tendai through Honen, a monk trained at Enryakuji Temple.

Not unlike the Protestant Reformation that swept Europe in the 16th century, Honen taught that faith in Amida Nyorai was all that was necessary to reach the Pure Land. According to his teachings, believers attained salvation by expressing their devotion through the recitation of the Nenbutsu, Namu amida butsu, 南無阿弥陀仏, “I take refuge in Amida Nyorai,” declaring their faith in the saving grace of Amida Nyorai. The diligent recitation of this prayer was believed to enable souls to be reborn in the heavenly Pure Land.

Honen’s emphasis on the simplicity of faith and the transformative power of the Nenbutsu marked a drastic departure from more complex doctrinal practices, making the Pure Land school an influential force welcomed by the common people.

Jōdo Shinshū

In the 13th century, Honen’s disciple, Shinran, established New Pure Land Buddhism, Jōdo Shinshū. Also trained at Enryakuji, Shinran broke with Tendai to start his own sect based on the fundamental belief in the equality of all individuals, irrespective of societal position or status. All people were equally worthy of salvation.

Shinran took the Pure Land doctrine further by declaring that humanity’s only hope lay in the saving grace of Amida Nyorai, with preference given to the seemingly most unworthy. Jōdo Shinshū was eagerly received by farmers, merchants, and even some local lords and samurai.

Jisshu

Another Pure Land sect, Jisshu, was founded in the 13th century by a former Tendai monk named Ippen. He traveled throughout Japan, distributing prayer cards inscribed with the nenbutsu while expressing his joy through dance. Ippen taught that the way to salvation was found in the repetition of the nenbutsu — an individual’s efforts were inconsequential.

According to Ippen, even faith was not a prerequisite for salvation, as the absolute power of Buddha transcended the need for belief. Through chanting, individuals can attain a state of oneness with the Buddha.

Kamakura through Azuchi-Momoyama eras (1185–1600)

Zen

The simple, rustic, and unadorned lifestyle of Zen was embraced by the warrior class of the Kamakura Era. Practicing Zen brought calm to their troubled lives and gave them meaning, and a way to live and die peacefully.

Rinzai

At the end of the 12th century, Eisai, another monk who had studied at Enryakuji Temple, visited China and brought back Rinzai Zen Buddhism. Based on seated meditation, Eisai emphasized enlightenment by emptying the mind, mindfulness, martial arts, and the use of koans, paradoxical statements or questions, to encourage intuitive growth.

He also brought back tea seeds which he planted on Hirado Island and in the mountains of Kyushu. Initially used to keep Zen practitioners awake during meditation, green tea is now Japan’s most widely consumed beverage.

Sōtō

Another monk who studied at Enryakuji Temple, Dōgen, visited China and brought back the Sōtō school of Zen. Dōgen’s teachings kept things simple. Believers were to sit in meditation, emptying their minds, until enlightenment came upon them. Wanting to remove himself from the capital and other Buddhist influences, he built his main Eiheiji temple complex deep in the mountains of what is now Fukui Prefecture.

Dōgen taught that every individual possesses the essence of the Buddha. However, failing to realize this, we often live selfish, willful lives, resulting in suffering. Seeking refuge in Buddha allows our minds to find rest, our lives to be filled with harmony and light, and instills in us a sense of joy in being of service to society.

Nichiren

Breaking with all other schools of Buddhism, Nichiren was convinced of the supremacy of the Lotus Sutra. According to him, through the wholehearted chanting of “Namu myōhō renge kyō” — All Hail to the Lotus Sutra — one can unite with the cosmic Buddha and achieve enlightenment. This chanting would activate an individual’s inherent Buddha-nature, unleashing power and wisdom that allowed for a life akin to a ‘lotus flower in a muddy pond.’ This enlightenment was available to all beings, allowing one to attain Buddhahood within one’s lifetime.

Edo Era (1603-1867)

Ōbaku Zen

The other main school of Zen was brought to Japan in the early 17th century by a Chinese monk, Ingen, after the fall of the Ming Dynasty. Curiously, Ingen had been a monk of the Linji School, which was the forerunner of Rinzai. Through the years, Rinzai in Japan developed separately from Linji in China, so that when Ingen reached Japan the religion he brought was so unlike Rinzai that it became a new sect of Zen, Ōbaku.

As a side note, he also brought green beans, called in Japanese, Ingen-mame — Ingen beans.

Meiji era (1868-1912)

In the late 18th century, intellectuals of Kokugaku, or National Learning, promoted Shinto as the national religion and denounced Buddhism as an unnecessary foreign intrusion.

In 1867, the last Tokugawa shogun returned political power to the emperor. Emperor Meiji, the “son of heaven” and direct descendant of the Shinto Sun Goddess, Amaterasu Omikami, assumed leadership of Japan.

The elevation of the emperor’s status left little room for Buddhism, leading to the government’s enactment of The Kami and Buddhas Separation Order, 神仏判然令, Shinbutsu Hanzenrei. This order forcibly separated the religions that had existed in harmony for centuries, often sharing the same sacred grounds. The aftermath saw a period of zealous destruction of Buddhist temples, art, and sutras. Many Buddhist priests abandoned their monastic lives, while others became Shinto priests, converting their temples to shrines.

Over time, this zealous persecution waned, allowing Buddhism to regain strength and popularity. Although, the destruction of countless works of art has left its mark on Japan’s cultural heritage.

Buddhism today

Buddhism and Shinto again coexist peacefully, but the scars remain. Broken and defaced statues continue to be found in forests and rivers. Former temples remain as shrines.

Many schools of Buddhism remain active in Japan, among them, according to the Agency for Cultural Affairs, Pure Land sects stand out as the most popular, with a combined membership of over 21 million. As you can see, they hold the top three positions in this statistical breakdown:

• New Pure Land, Hongaji sect 7,840,000

• Otani sect of Pure Land, Higashi Honganji 7,350,000

• Pure Land 6,020,000
• Sōtō Zen 3,670,000
• Tendai 1,530,000
• Shingon 1,420,000*

*Data from the Mount Koya sect was unavailable.

Religion in Japan

But what of other religions? Looking at more government statistics, we find the following breakdown among the Japanese population:

• 69% Shinto
• 58% Buddhist
• 1% Christian
• 5.7% Other

Those numbers don’t quite add up until we stop to realize that Buddhism and Shinto are non-exclusive religions. One can be both a practicing Shinto and a practicing Buddhist and, clearly, many people are.

Japan’s religious syncretism has been described as “Born a Shinto, married a Christian, die a Buddhist.” In many ways, this is true. The religions are beautifully harmonious. Shinto is a celebration of life, milestones, and joy. Widely idealized by the media, many people enjoy the novelty of a Christian — or pseudo-Christian — wedding. While Buddhist beliefs focus on death and the afterlife, completing the cycle of life’s significant events.

Would that all the world’s religions could coexist in such harmony.

The post Buddhism in Japan—A Little History of this Powerful and Influential Religion first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

Maybe both

For over 1,000 years, people in Japan have used paper name tags called senjafuda, to mark their visits to shrines and temples. I have seen these in the most unexpected places — behind the guardian statues at Yamadera, on high ceilings of shrines, and plastered all over the walls the fabulous double-helix shrine, Sazaedō. 

Yet to my ignorant eyes, they looked like ancient graffiti.

How did they get there? Why were they put there? Isn’t it disrespectful to plaster the hallowed halls of holy places with stickers? These are the questions that kept me awake at night. No one I asked about them could provide me with a satisfactory explanation. I had no idea what they were even called.

However, during completely unrelated research, I stumbled upon some answers. 

Senjafuda’s origins

Senjafuda, 千社札, meaning “1,000 Shrine Notes,” are votive slips left at shrines and temples by devout visitors. The practice dates back to the ninth century when people began carrying senjafuda during pilgrimages to the 33 temples dedicated to Kannon, the Buddhist deity of mercy, or while on quests to visit 1,000 Shinto shrines. The 千, literally “one thousand,” in the name is more figuratively used to mean “a lot of.”

Senjafuda are effectively calling cards bearing the names and addresses of the pilgrims. They are generally black on white and written in a distinctive calligraphy style using sumi ink. 

After prayers and offerings, pilgrims would leave senjafuda as proof of their visit to the sacred spot. They would attach them to the pillars, walls, or ceilings. With their names kept safely in the shrine or temple, visitors believed they would continue to receive the blessings of the sacred place even after they had physically departed.

Originally crafted from wood, copper, or brass, by the middle of the Edo era (1603–1867), they were being made from paper — and their popularity surged. The era was plagued by three severe famines, prompting the populace to grow fervent in their supplications to Inari, the Shinto kami associated with grains and prosperity. As a result, leaving your senjafuda at 1,000 Inari Shrines throughout the land became all the rage. 

The more obscure the placement, the better

The placement of these votive stickers evolved into a friendly competition among the faithful, each vying to place their senjafuda in the most obscure places. Even sacred trees were not exempt from being plastered with stickers.

As the years passed, placing the stickers in hard-to-reach spots became a point of pride. Worshippers used their walking sticks or other longer poles as tools. They would attach two brushes and a clip to the end of their sticks, use the brushes to spread the rice-based adhesive, and then affix the note using the clip.

Out of respect for others, pilgrims would refrain from placing their senjafuda on top of someone else’s. As a result, the votive slips are often squeezed together, filling every nook and cranny of the older and more popular shrines and temples. The ceiling of Sazaedō is a perfect example.

As woodblock printing evolved, more intricate and elaborate printed designs replaced traditional handwritten senjafuda.

Modern senjafuda

Towards the end of the 18th century, another type of senjafuda emerged distinct from those used for temples and shrines. Called kokan nosatsu, 交換納札, these name slips were designed exclusively for trading. While senjafuda served as “offering notes,” the trading notes took on a different character, featuring colorful patterns, intricate folds, and detailed etchings. They swiftly evolved into an independent art form, and trading clubs dedicated to kokan nosatsu proliferated — and many continue to thrive.

In the magical realm of Kyoto’s pleasure quarters, geiko (as geisha trained in Kyoto are called) developed their own version of kokan nosatsu. Called hana meishi, “flower calling cards,” these small colorful stickers bear the geiko’s name and are decorated with flowers and drawings of the willow world. Hana meishi are still exchanged and treasured as collectibles.

Today, the traditional form of senjafuda, with woodblock printed paper attached with rice-based adhesive, has been replaced by machine-made stickers. Although convenient, these modern stickers can damage ancient wood leaving unsightly marks when removed.

In recent years, a growing number of temples and shrines have prohibited the placement of senjafuda. Additionally, many of these places of worship have been designated as Important Cultural Properties. Affixing senjafuda to these treasured buildings could result in severe consequences, including imprisonment or fines, according to the 1951 Act on the Protection of Cultural Properties.

Nevertheless, ancient senjafuda still adorn the walls, ceilings, and pillars of innumerable shrines and temples throughout Japan. These votive slips provide a glimpse into bygone centuries when pilgrims traversed the land, leaving behind their “calling cards” as tokens of their devotion and spiritual journeys. 

I will never think of them as ancient graffiti again.

The post Senjafuda—Ancient Japanese Graffiti or Early Calling Cards? first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

The ancient story behind an everyday expression

According to the 9th-century Chinese history, Rekidaimeigaki, 歴代名画記, there is an interesting story behind the four character expression used in both China and Japan, 画竜点睛. In Japanese, this is read garyōtensei, and means to put the finishing touch on something.

The characters by themselves mean:

画 picture, brush stroke

竜 dragon

点 spot

睛 pupil

Before I share the story with you, it’s helpful to understand a certain Buddhist tradition. When a new statue of the Buddha is consecrated, an “eye-opening ceremony” is held. The officiating priest carefully paints the pupils on it, and the spirit of the Buddha enters the statue.

So now, on to the story.

Dragons on temple walls

In 5th century China lived an artist of exceptional skill. His name was Zhang Sengyou, and he was commissioned to paint a mural of four white dragons on the wall of Anrakuji Temple.

As the lifelike dragons appeared one by one upon the wall, onlookers marveled at their realism. 

Then Zhang stopped painting.

“But what of the eyes? They have no pupils! You’re not finished.” The people urged him to paint pupils to complete the dragons.

Zhang replied, “If I add the pupils, the dragons will fly off into the sky.” 

“That’s impossible!” They laughed in disbelief, insisting he finish the dragons.

The artist sighed and gave in. He painted pupils on one, and then two of the dragons. As he painted, dark clouds gathered. Thunder clapped. Lightning struck. True to the artist’s word, the mighty beasts came to life and flew to the heavens, leaving the two unfinished dragons quiet upon the wall.

Once the dragons were out of sight, calm returned.

The crowd was struck dumb, staring in silence at the sky. The two sightless dragons remain to this day on the walls of Anrakuji Temple.

画竜点睛, garyōtensei, literally means adding the dot of the pupil to the dragon painting — or as my dictionary defines it, “completing something by executing the final, critical step.”

If you are interested in the history of Japanese, and how Chinese characters became part of the language, you might like Why is Learning Japanese So Hard?

References:

Kotobank 画竜点睛, Kotobank 歴代名画記, Japanese dictionary.

The post What Do Dragons Have to Do With This Classic Japanese Idiom? first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

For more than 300 years, belief in Jōdo Shinshū Buddhism was punishable by death

Kakure Nenbutsu

For many years, believers in Jōdo Shinshū Buddhism, the True Pure Land sect, quietly climbed into the deep recesses of remote mountains to pray in hidden caves where their images and other ritual items were safely stored. If caught, these believers faced torture and death. They were known as Kakure Nenbutsu, 隠れ念仏, Hidden Buddhists.

Kakure Nenbutsu refers to the believers themselves, their associations, and the action of hiding their beliefs from the authorities.

History of the Kakure Nenbutsu

Jōdo Shinshū Buddhism was founded in the 13th century by, Shinran, who had been trained at the Tendai Buddhist stronghold on Mount Hiei, northeast of Kyoto. He later broke with Tendai and started his own sect based on the understanding that all people, regardless of position or status, were equal in the eyes of Amida Nyorai. All people were equally worthy of salvation.

All living beings are equally precious before Amida Nyorai.

Jōdo Shinshū TENANT

In the 15th century, the priest Rennyo codified the beliefs of Jōdo Shinshū and his writings were disseminated throughout the country. They were eagerly received by downtrodden peasants, merchants, and even some local lords. As believers grew in numbers, a radicalized and powerful group called the Ikko-Ikki developed.

Ikko-Ikki groups of farmers, local samurai, and monks fought to overthrow their daimyos, or feudal lords. Ikko-Ikki uprisings occurred throughout the country, and in 1488, more than a hundred thousand Ikko-Ikki rose in revolt, took over the Kaga domain, and set up their own Peasants Kingdom.

Daimyo across the country took note.

Down in southern Kyushu, the influential lord of Satsuma (Kagoshima), Shimadzu Tadayoshi, was devout to both Zen Buddhism and Confucianism. He penned the Iroha Uta, 47 short poems that conveyed the principles of Confucianism and were the bedrock of Samurai schooling in his domain.

Tadayoshi despised the zealous Jōdo Shinshū and their violent Ikko-Ikki fanatics. He felt nothing but disdain for their disregard for loyalty to their lords, a crucial Confucian principle.

Following the lead of other notable daimyos, in 1597, Tadayoshi’s grandson, the 17th Lord of Satsuma, Shimadzu Yoshihiro, officially outlawed Jōdo Shinshū in his domain.

Edo-era oppression

During the Edo era (1603-1867), every person was required to register at their local Buddhist temple. This served the dual purpose of keeping track of everyone and also ensuring that there were no Christians among the populace. Anyone suspected of being a Christian was ordered to tread upon an image of Mother Mary or Jesus. If they would not do that, they were killed, often very cruelly.

In Satsuma, the Shimadzu lords determined to not only root out any hidden Christians, but also any believers in the Jōdo Shinshū sect of Buddhism. Every five years, local samurai visited each household to inspect their required “Proof of Religion” tablet, 宗門手札, shūmon tefuda, and to take a census count.

Additionally, groups of five families were organized to keep watch on each other and report any suspicions as to Kakure Nenbutsu or Christians. If their group was known to harbor these outlaws, all would be brutally punished.

Kakure Nenbutsu and Christians alike risked the worst form of punishment, reserved exclusively for them and those who murdered their lords. This was called Ishi-daki, 石抱き, “hugging stone.”

For this brutal form of punishment, the prisoner would be forced to sit seiza, kneeling sitting on one’s feet, upon triangular wedges of wood. Nine centimeter thick planks of stone, 90 centimeters long, 30 centimeters wide, and weighing up to 45 kilos, were placed on the prisoner’s legs one after another. Care was taken to prolong the agony and to take time to show each stone to the prisoner before placing it on his lap. To prevent him from moving, his back and neck were secured to a pole. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the prisoner was also whipped.

Believers in both Christianity and Jōdo Shinshū knew that they risked such torture.

Many Jōdo Shinshū believers secretly fled to the neighboring domain of Obi (southern Miyazaki) where their faith was tolerated. The fleeing peasants were so numerous that the Obi government set up a special magistrate to look after them.

In 1835, the oppression in Satsuma reached its peak when 2,000 Buddhist objects of worship were destroyed and 14,000 Kakure Nenbutsu suffered martyrdom.

This persecution drove believers even deeper into the mountains, into caverns, and aboard ships where they continued their faith. They hid their objects of worship inside wooden pot lids and cutting boards, まな板仏, manaita-butsu; their hanging scrolls inside false umbrellas, 傘仏, kasa-butsu; and their altars inside innocuous wooden boxes.

In the mountains of Hanao, in rural Kagoshima, up a 250-meter climb, one finds a small opening to a cave just 12 square meters in area. Within this low cave, in centuries past, local Kakure Nenbutsu hid their altars and images and, in groups of two or three, went to pray.

Religious freedom at last

Finally, in 1876, the recently established prefectural government of Kagoshima announced “The Freedom of Religion Order,” and the Kakure Nenbutsu and hidden Christians were once again allowed to worship openly.

There are still traces of these hidden Buddhists today. The cave in Hanao is the most accessible, but there are others.

References:

(All are Japanese) kotobank, Nishi Honganji Kagoshima Branch website, Izumi City homepage, signs, etc.

The post Kakure Nenbutsu—The Little-Known Hidden Buddhists of Southern Kyushu first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

Although not a sightseeing spot, Nanzoin is well worth a visit

Nanzoin (南蔵院) is a Shingon Buddhist temple just 20 minutes by train from Hakata Station in Fukuoka City, Kyushu. I was lucky to be able to visit it during a recent trip to Fukuoka.

The temple was originally located on Mount Koya, the center of Shingon Buddhism. During the anti-Buddhist movement of the late 19th century, along with other temples, statues, and sutras throughout the country, Nanzoin was to be destroyed. But due to the persistent petitioning of the local people, it was saved and moved to its current location in Sasaguri, Fukuoka, in 1899.

Visiting Nanzoin

On a bright, sunny, summer morning, I arrived early at the tiny Kido-nanzoin-mae train station, chatted with the friendly stationmaster, and set off for the short walk to the temple. 

I turned a corner and came upon a bridge spanning the Tatara River, aptly named “Melody Bridge.” Along both sides is a sort of xylophone, which you can strike with a mallet to play a sweet melody while you walk across.

Around another corner and I started up the path that leads to Nanzoin temple. Nestled on the side of a lush green hill, the grounds are filled with innumerable statues among which is the largest bronze Buddha statue in the world.

All the other large statues of the Buddha in Japan are in a sitting pose. The Nanzoin statue, though, portrays the Buddha lying down as he is entering Nirvana. The statue is 41 meters long, 11 meters high, and weighs approximately 300 tons. 

For reference, New York’s Statue of Liberty is 46.05 meters tall, made of wrought iron with a copper shell, and weighs 220 tons.

The Reclining Buddha Statue

In thanks for continuous gifts of medical supplies, stationery goods, and other aid sent to the children in southeast Asia and Nepal, in 1988, the Buddhist Congress of Myanmar presented Nanzoin with the sacred ashes of three Buddhas. This reclining Buddha was built as a repository for those ashes.

I donated to the temple which allowed me to enter the hallowed area behind and within the statue. I was given a long, thin wooden plaque upon which to write a prayer. This I carried into the sanctuary. I removed my shoes and was given a bag in which to carry them.

Before me lay a long, narrow hallway. The floor was tiled with a line of 88 square tiles, each of which contains sand from one of the 88 temples of the Shikoku pilgrimage. This important pilgrimage on the island of Shikoku was established by the founder of Shingon Buddhism, Kukai, in the 9th century. 

Stepping on each tile within Nanzoin’s Buddha is like stepping foot on each of the pilgrimage temples’ grounds. It brought to mind another one-stop pilgrimage, the amazing spiral Sazaedo temple in Aizuwakamatsu, Fukushima.

When I reached the middle of the hallway, I climbed a narrow staircase to the right and offered my prayer plaque to a woman standing in a small darkened area shared with Buddhist statues and offerings. I paid my respects to the Buddha, then went down another staircase to continue along my 88 step pilgrimage.

At the end of the hall, I put my shoes on and stepped back into the sunlight. Before me was a stall selling amulets, and I was given 3 small darts with rubber tips to toss into boxes several meters away. If I got one in, I would be awarded a free amulet. Although this temple is famously lucky — rumor has it that one of its chief priests once won the lottery — I was unable to score even one amulet.

No worries, though. Next, I checked out the Buddha’s marvelous feet.

The Soles of the Buddha’s Feet

Long ago in India, believers felt unworthy to make statues of Buddha, so instead, they carved images of the soles of his feet and worshipped those. According to a sign nearby, the patterns on the feet represent the gentle teachings and mercy of Buddha.

Connect with the Buddha

Attached to the Buddha’s hand are ribbons that lead to an offering box. Praying, while holding onto the five colored ribbons, allows you to be imbued with spiritual power from the Buddha as he is reaching enlightenment. 

Enchanting Statues

Five hundred disciples are portrayed in delightful form in front of the statue, with more in other areas of the temple grounds. Each one is remarkably detailed and filled with life and personality. I’m sure I could spend all day admiring them.

There are Jizo statues, and a shrine to the Shinto deity, Inari, an enormous and fierce statue of Fudō Myōō, and many other works of fine craftsmanship portraying deities throughout the grounds, much of which is off-limits to photography.

Respectfulness

Nanzoin has signs to remind visitors that it is a temple, not a sightseeing spot. Visitors are reminded to be quiet, not to eat or drink on the grounds, nor to disturb the atmosphere in any way.

Keeping those points in mind, I highly recommend a visit to this amazing temple, filled with beautiful statues, quiet paths, and pleasant waterfalls.

The post Nanzoin Temple — Little-Known Home of the Biggest Bronze Statue in the World first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

A Hidden Treasure on Sado Island, Japan

Up a narrow mountain road on the island of Sado, I came upon a remarkable shrine. If you’re not looking carefully, it’s easy to miss the small sign and narrow driveway that leads behind bushes and into a forested area overgrown with grass and weeds.

At first blush, it looks like a fairly typical countryside shrine. But on closer inspection, the grounds reveal treasures.

Nashi no Ki Jizo has a story to tell.

Who is Jizo

Jizo, also written Jizō, is a Buddhist bodhisattva, that is, one who achieves enlightenment but postpones Buddhahood in order to help others. Jizo statues are a common sight along the old roads of Japan. He has long been considered a guardian of travelers, as well as of children.

This shrine, with its Buddhist deity, seems to be a classic example of the syncretism of Buddhism and Shinto, as was the case throughout Japan for centuries until the late 1800s.

Nashi no Ki Jizo

Long ago, some men were out fishing in the Sea of Japan. To their surprise, they spied a stone statue of Jizo visible beneath the clear waters. They pulled it from the sea, brought it to shore, and enshrined it on this hilltop.

By and by, word of this Jizo spread. He was said to have extraordinary powers. People came from far and wide to pray to this Jizo for their sick children. Every prayer for healing offered to the Nashi no Ki Jizo was answered.

Jizo healed the children by removing their illnesses and selflessly taking them upon himself.

You can imagine the sense of gratitude felt by the happy parents.

After their children were healed, parents brought stone Jizo statues to this shrine. Each statue carries the malady of a healed child.

So many thousands of statues have been offered that they overflowed the small shrine building and now fill the grounds, many buried under pine needles or grown over by weeds.

Thousands of statues are old and weathered, their features unrecognizable. Others are new, fresh-faced, and sweet.

Stuffed toys, pinwheels, flowers, and drinks remain where they were offered in front of the Jizo.

If you ever visit Sado Island off the Niigata coast of Japan, take some time to search out this beautiful and sublime hilltop shrine to the beneficent Jizo.

The post The Jizo Statues of Nashi-no-Ki—1,000s of Unique Offerings of Thanks first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

A night spent with monks on Mount Kōya

Shukubō on Mount Kōya

Mount Kōya in Wakayama Prefecture is the center of Shingon Buddhism. It is located on a plateau surrounded by eight forested peaks and connected by ancient pilgrimage routes to the Kumano Sanzan — Hongu Grand Shrine, Hayatama Grand Shrine, and Nachi Grand Shrine — the three sacred sites of the Kumano region. These sites are a quintessential example of the synchronicity of Buddhism and Shinto, with each location’s deity having both a Buddhist and a Shinto embodiment.

In 819, after first requesting the blessing of the local Shinto deities, the founder of Shingon consecrated Mount Kōya as a mountain retreat and the headquarters of his esoteric branch of Buddhism. This monk, Kukai, posthumously named Kōbō Daishi, rests in a mausoleum deep within Okunoin, the largest graveyard in Japan, atop Mount Kōya.

Today, there are over one hundred temples on Mount Kōya, many of which offer lodging to visitors. I was lucky enough to stay at such a temple several times in recent years.

Staying at a temple

Arriving at the temple, we first take off our shoes, step up onto the raised floor of the building, and put on inside slippers. We are greeted by a monk, who gives us a tour, explaining about the onsen bath and where the dining room, restrooms, and prayer rooms are located. 

It is an old wooden temple building, with squeaky, yet shiny wooden floors. After walking along the engawa hallway between the outside walls with sliding windows and the raised interior rooms, we are shown into tatami mat rooms. This is where we will spend the night. Futons will be laid out for us on the floor while we eat our dinner.

Our tatami rooms are basic and separated by sliding paper fusuma doors. There will be no secrets among us this night! The toilets down the hall are shared communally — one room for men and one for women.

We settle into our rooms, and some of us take time to relax, enjoy the atmosphere, and have the tea and simple snacks left for us on a low table in the center of each room.

In small groups, or one by one, we head to the onsen to wash, soak, and relax before dinner. We are provided with yukatas to wear after our bath, which become our evening wear. No need to worry about what to put on for dinner. We all wear yukatas. Wearing another layer underneath can help with warmth and modesty.

Dinner is traditional Buddhist fare called shōjin ryōri. It is vegetarian and features various types of tofu, local vegetables, and konnyaku — a rubber-like food made from the corm of the konjac plant.

Afterward, those who want to, change into warm clothing and join one of the monks for a nighttime tour of the graveyard. He explains a little about the Shingon religion, its symbolism, and points out some of the more famous graves. We walk by the 200,000 tombstones that line the nearly 2 km walkway to the mausoleum of Kōbō Daishi, at the far end of the cemetery.

Although I realize it is a high honor to be entombed in this magnificent cemetery — sharing holy ground with the likes of Oda Nobunaga and other greats of Japanese history — I can’t help but wonder about all those souls resting so far away from their ancestral homes. The monk explains to me that, in general, the graves of Okunoin contain only the hyoid, called the “Buddha bone” in Japanese due to its shape. The remaining bones are indeed interred in their families’ graves.

After a comfortable night’s sleep, we awaken early, dress in our regular attire, and walk down the long hallway to the prayer room. There we sit respectfully as monks perform their morning chanting service.

Next, we go outside to a separate building where the Goma fire ceremony is held. Buddhists hold that the root of all suffering is desire. In the fire ceremony, a monk burns wooden sticks upon which are written various human desires. The fire symbolizes the compassion of Fudō Myōō, the destroyer of evil, which cleanses us of those desires.

After the ceremony, we pay our respects to Fudō Myōō and his companion deities, then return to the main temple building.

A delicious vegetarian breakfast has been prepared for us. We make ourselves comfortable on cushions on the dining room floor and eat from our low tables.

After breakfast, we bid farewell to our hosts and head out to explore the wonders of Mount Kōya.

Mount Kōya, as well as much of the Kii Peninsula of Wakayama, has been designated “Sacred Sites and Pilgrimage Routes in the Kii Mountain Range,” a UNESCO World Heritage Site. It is well worth a visit.

The post Shukubo—Tranquil Temple Stay in Japan first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

Along the old highways of Japan, you will find Jizo statues, often wearing a red cap and bib

*Jizo (also written Jizō) is a bodhisattva, that is, one who achieves enlightenment but postpones Buddhahood in order to help others.

Jizo was originally the keeper of souls before they were born. From the late 1800s, Jizo came to be known as the guardian of travelers and children, both in this world and the next.

Jizo watches over all children who have died, including miscarried and aborted babies. These children did not have time in their brief lives to build up good karma, as well, they suffer judgment for the heartbreak that their deaths brought to their mothers. Each day the children build towers of pebbles along Sai no Kawara, the riverbank of souls in limbo, in hopes of crossing over and into heaven. But each evening, demons knock down their towers and beat the children.

Don’t worry, though, Jizo rescues the children, hiding them in his big sleeves.

Thinking of their children undergoing this suffering, mothers pray to Jizo to take care of them. Red is the color for expelling demons and illnesses, so mothers clothe Jizo statues in red bibs and hats, both as a show of gratitude and also in prayer that Jizo will care for and protect their children.

You may see piles of stones around Jizo statues, placed there to help the little ones perform their penance, or sometimes toys, left by mothers thankful to Jizo for healing a sick child.

Jizo also protects the spirits of muenbotoke, those who have died an unnatural death, at sea, along the road, or those who have no family to look after their graves. These “unconnected dead” find comfort in the care of compassionate Jizo.

Photos ©Diane Neill Tincher

The post Jizo—Charming, Child-Like Statues of Japan first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.