Benten Among the Leaves

 --Susan, every other Sunday

While sorting photos last week, I came across an image I'd forgotten taking, but which instantly returned me to a very special time and place:

Koi on Koyasan

I shot the image at the entrance to a Shintō shrine on Koyasan--specifically, a shrine dedicated to Benten (also known as Benzaiten), the Buddhist deity "of all that flows" - from water to money, music, and even words. She's one of the "seven lucky gods" (shichifukujin), and curiously the only one who has a dedicated temple on Koyasan (the heart of Shingon Buddhist worship in Japan). 

Seeing a Shintō shrine dedicated to her is not as unusual as it might seem. Like many Buddhist divinities, Benzaiten is worshipped as part of the Shintō pantheon, as a syncretic deity.

What is a bit unusual, however, is the location of this Shintō shrine--just down the street from the Great Gate that marks the official entrance to the Danjo Garan temple complex, and thus officially within the temple precincts.

Entrance to the Benten Shrine

(The koi ponds (there are two) sit directly to the left and right of the torii shown above, and are filled with koi of all sizes and colors.) 

Technically, this shrine is a subshrine--the primary site for worship of Benzaiten on Koyasan, and the site where the deity is actually "installed" is atop the small mountain behind the shrine (the worship site at this shrine sits on the hillside at the base of the mountain)--a mountain known as Bentendake (Mt. Benten) in her honor.

The shrine atop Bentendake

That shrine is reached by means of a trail--known as the nyoninmichi, or "women's route" that crosses over all of the peaks encircling the sacred mountaintop plateau of Koyasan. Before the 20th century, when women were barred from entering the sacred precincts, female pilgrims hiked along the route as a form of prayer--but it wasn't only a women's route. Travelers of all genders, holy and secular, used the trail for a variety of purposes, including stopping to pay respects to the deities enshrined on the holy peaks.

The entrance to the trail up Bentendake

However, since Benzaiten/Benten was considered a special protector and guardian of Koyasan, it was important to have an easily accessible shrine--something less distant from the primary worship areas than the little shrine atop the wooded peak.

This small shrine at the base of the mountain serves that purpose.

The entrance to the stairs.

Through the entrance torii and across a small, open yard, a flight of stairs curls up the side of the mountain about 100 yards, to a recessed area where the worship hall sits. Like many Shinto subshrines, the worship "hall" is small, but very well-maintained. 

Torii (shinto gates) along the way designate the visitor's progression into increasingly sacred spaces.

The shrine is small and quiet. Few of the many visitors who come to Koyasan know Benten's story, or that Kobo Daishi, the priest who brought Shingon Buddhism to Japan and founded Koyasan as a center of Shingon study and worship, traveled to nearby Nara to petition Benzaiten to "come" to Koyasan and protect his newly founded holy site. According to Koyasan's historical records, Kobo Daishi carried Benzaiten (in spirit) back to the holy mountain and installed her at her temple, where he asked her to watch over the entire mountaintop complex.

In return, the priests of Koyasan honor Benzaiten, both on the mountaintop and at this secondary temple.

The view from the worship site.

The view from the worship site makes it easy to imagine the deity watching over the people who pass below--both in ancient days and now, although it seems few people make the climb to visit her these days.

Which is too bad.

Subshrines near the worship site.

Standing on the mountain, looking down, time seems to flow a little slower, and life feels a little less frantic. The wind flows through the leaves, and their rustling sounds like music.

It's a peaceful, holy place, no matter what your faith (or lack thereof) believes.

So, if you find yourself on Koyasan, and if you visit the Great Gate, keep an eye out for Benten's little shrine. Head up the path, and let time cease to flow for just a minute.

Or just stop and let the world go by for a moment now. 

That works too.

A Lasting Tribute "to an Unknown God"

-- Susan, every other Sunday

Kasuga Taisha (Shrine), in Nara City, was established over 1,300 years ago, shortly after Nara became the first permanent capital of Japan.

The purification fountain at Kasuga Shrine

According to shrine historians, Kasuga Taisha was constructed after the Shintō deity Takemikazuchi-no-mikoto appeared atop nearby Mt. Mikasa in response to prayers for protection of the new capital city.

Mt. Mikasa, as seen from neighboring Mt. Wakakusa

Takemikazuchi and three other Shintō deities are enshrined inside Kasuga Taisha, in an elaborate set of buildings where both Shintō and Buddhist ceremonies are conducted regularly.

The worship hall at Kasuga Taisha

Sub-shrines on the expansive grounds of Kasuga Shrine (which encompass a large portion of Nara Park) honor more than five dozen other deities, and the priests conduct hundreds of individual ceremonies to honor these deities every year.

Nara's famous deer: formerly considered sacred because the deity appeared on Mt. Mikasa riding a white deer

One of the most important of these "other deities" was discovered at the time of the shrine's construction, and remains a mystery to many visitors.


Directly in front of the shrine's main gate, a simple wooden fence surrounds a stone embedded in the sandy earth.

The fence is lower left, in front of the stairs. 

This sacred stone was unearthed during construction of the shrine in the 8th century. Shrine historians say that a deity appeared on this stone (and also inhabits the stone, depending on the translation). The deity is older than the shrine, and even older than Shintō faith, and although the deity is not given a specific name, it is said that this deity is even stronger, and older, than the Takemikazuchi and the other deities enshrined at Kasuga Shrine.

The deity is (in) the stone.

For that reason, the stone was not removed, or covered over. Instead, a fence was constructed and ceremonies and prayers are offered in honor of the god whose presence the stone reveals.


The decision to leave the stone, and honor the deity it represents, is emblematic of the way Japan's indigenous Shintō faith respects all evidence of the divine. Although the grounds of Kasuga Shrine were clearly dedicated to Takemikazuchi and the other deities for whom the shrine was built, the priests not only felt no need to "erase" the deities that formerly inhabited the land, but took enduring steps to respect and honor them as well.

The sign (only in Japanese) explains about the sacred stone.

Unfortunately, the current sign explaining the meaning of the stone is written only in Japanese, so many Western visitors pass by without understanding its significance. However, I understand that a new sign, written in English as well as Japanese, is under consideration. I hope it gets approved, and built. Until then, the simple stone will remain a unique, and under-appreciated, element of Kasuga Taisha's history: a lasting tribute to an ancient god.

  

The Grave of a God at Nikko Toshogu

-- Susan, every other Sunday

Last month, I visited Nikkō, a World Heritage Site in the mountains three hours northwest of Tokyo. The area's sacred history goes back well over a thousand years, to the 8th century founding of Nikko Futarasan Shrine, but it truly gained notoriety during the 17th century, when it became the final resting place of Tokugawa Ieyasu (1543-1616) the man who, as Shogun, unified Japan.

Main Gate, Nikko Toshogu

After his death, Ieyasu was buried at Nikko Tōshō-gu Shrine, where he is also enshrined and venerated as the protective deity Tōshō Daigongen, in which form people believe he continues to watch over the Japanese nation and its people.

Tōshō-gu is one of the most elaborate Shinto holy sites in Japan. All of the buildings are covered with spectacular gold-accented carvings.

Detail, Yomeimon at Toshogu

After passing through the enormous torii (sacred Shinto gate) at the entrance and climbing the stairs to the entry gate, visitors pass a set of large storehouses which hold the thousands of ritual costumes and implements used in various festivals throughout the year.

Storehouse, Nikko Tōshō-gu

Near the storehouses, the temple stable features famous carvings of the "three wise monkeys" who feature in Japanese and Chinese legend. (You may recognize them as "Hear No Evil, See No Evil, Speak No Evil.")

Three Wise Monkeys

Just past these buildings, a covered fountain for ritual purification stands beside yet another torii. Beyond it, a set of steep stone stairs leads to the Yomeimon - the most elaborate temple gate in Japan, with over 500 carvings of sages and fantastical beasts.

Yomeimon - the most elaborate temple gate in Japan

The gate is also known as the Gate of the Setting Sun, because a person could apparently look at it all day, from sunrise to sunset, without growing bored or tired of its beauty. While I didn't test that theory, there was certainly far more to see than I was able to take in at a single visit.

After passing through the Yomeimon, I stopped to view the Hondo, or Worship Hall, which is currently undergoing renovation in accordance with Shintō tradition, which requires regular maintenance and rebuilding of shrines as a sign of respect for the kami (Shintō deities).

Hondo, Tosho-gu

Hondo Entrance, Tosho-gu

On the far side of the shrine yard, I waited my turn to pass through the famous gate that leads to the upper shrine and Ieyasu's grave. The gate features a carving known as the "Sleeping Cat" by sculptor Hidari Jingorō which symbolizes Tokugawa Ieyasu watching over Japan.

The famous Sleeping Cat

 The unique carving has been designated a Japanese National Treasure.

Once more . . . the Sleeping Cat

Beyond the sleeping cat, 208 stone steps lead upward through a forest of massive cedars to the final resting place of Tokugawa Ieyasu.

Torii near the burial site.

The grave has not been opened since his burial in 1616.

The grave of Tokugawa Ieyasu, the man who unified Japan

I studied Tokugawa Ieyasu's life, career, and achievements in college, and have read a great deal about him since.

He was imperfect--but then, who isn't--but his efforts are largely responsible for Japan's emergence from a group of warring feudal states to a unified country ruled by uniform laws. His edicts caused the economy to grow; his family's patronage strengthened the shrines and temples, as well as many Japanese traditional arts. He is quoted as saying: "In life, the strong are those who understand the meaning of 'patience.'"

Ieyasu's Grave

I spent several minutes standing near his tomb, watching the wind in the trees and the sun shining on the monument that marks his grave. To some, it is the grave of a deity. To others, the grave of a legend. To me, it was the grave of a man both like and unlike any other, whose life helped to inspire my love of this country I now call home.

A Return to Fushimi Inari

-- Susan, every other Sunday

Fushimi Inari Taisha (shrine) in Fushimi-ku, just south of Kyoto, is one of my favorite places in Japan.

Main Gate, Fushimi Inari Shrine

The mountain's iconic torii - sacred gates that mark the division between the secular and the holy - speak to me, as they do to the thousands of visitors (Japanese as well as foreign) who travel to the mountain every day, throughout the year.

I love the shrine, and its sacred mountain, enough that I took a day out of my scheduled research trip last autumn to visit and re-climb Mount Inari.

As usual, the mountain did not disappoint. Also as usual, I noticed many new and different things this time around.

For example, the Inari fox that watches over the entrance:

Foxes (the magical ones are known as kitsune) are Inari's messengers.

And the shrine cat (a kitsune in disguise?) who greeted me near the start of the climb:  

Waiting for attention. Cats are pretty much cats wherever you go.

The torii were lovely, mysterious, and haunting. It's easy to see why Shintō considers them gateways to a divine space:

Another pilgrim, ahead of me on the trail.

I love the way ancient consistency and constant change intersect on Mount Inari. The shrine and its mountain are simultaneously unchanged and completely different every time.

Visitors inscribe prayers or wishes on the small red torii, which are left as offerings.

Since I'd blocked out an morning for the mountain, I took my time on the ascent (and descent), stopping at each of the many subshrines and stations that dot the mountain's slopes.

A subshrine on Mount Inari.

I also paused for a plate of inarizushi at my favorite little restaurant, about halfway up the mountain, which also offers striking views of Kyoto:

How's that for a lunchtime view? (OK, it was brunch, but who's counting?)

On the way down, the morning mist burned off and the sun appeared, changing the mountain yet again.

Sunshine at the bottom of the mountain.

Since I visited on November 1, the trees in Kyoto had just begun to show the first hints of autumn.

Kitsune guardian with foliage.

(I was a little early for full foliage in this part of Japan, but I'd timed my trip for the foliage farther north, in the mountains, where it was spectacular.)

As I left, I wandered down the secondary approach to the shrine, where vendors line the road selling an amazing (and delicious) variety of treats.

Vendor street at the base of Fushimi Inari Shrine.

Most of the vendors don't allow photographs when the shops are open (I took the photo above when I arrived, knowing I wouldn't be able to photograph the area later on) but there's no ban on capturing the treats you buy.

Spiral potato with flavored salt. (The vendor lets you choose from over a dozen varieties.)

I only wish I hadn't been too full of inarizushi to eat any more.

Me, after too much inarizushi and fried potato.

My visit to Fushimi Inari Taisha took half a day, and I'm glad I made the time to return. It's one of my favorite places in Japan, and one I hope that everyone who visits Kyoto takes the time to see.

Emperor Meiji, Meiji Shrine, and the Modernization of Japan

-- Susan, every other Sunday

I leave for Japan nine days from today, and I'm looking forward to this particular trip for many reasons. Among them: I'm going alone, seeing places I've never seen, traveling at a time when Japan is at its most spectacular (at least for those of us who like autumn foliage and fall cuisine), and I'll be out of the country during the last few weeks of the Political Insanity Which Shall Not Be Named. (Yes, I got my absentee ballot, and in the immortal words of Forrest Gump "That's all I have to say about that.")

Today, as my thoughts turn increasingly toward Japan, I thought I'd take you on a tour of Tokyo's Meiji Jingu, a Shinto shrine built to honor the (deified) spirits of Emperor Meiji and his wife, Empress Shōken.

The entrance to Meiji Shrine

In Japan, the emperor is revered as a divinity, because according to tradition (some would say history, others legend - feel free to take your pick) the Japanese imperial line descends directly from the sun goddess, Amaterasu Omikami, supreme deity in the Shinto pantheon.

The central shrine complex (yes, it rained the day we visited).

Emperor Meiji lived from 1852 to 1912. At the time he was born, Japan remained a feudal society, ruled nominally by the emperor but in fact controlled by the powerful Tokugawa shogunate, whose military power overshadowed the emperor's rule.

Emperor Meiji (public domain image)

After his father's premature and unexpected death, fifteen year-old Emperor Meiji ascended the throne in 1867. On November 9 of that same year, the last Tokugawa Shogun, Yoshinobu, resigned, and on January 4, 1868, Emperor Meiji issued a formal declaration resuming control of Japan. After hundreds of years, the rule of the shoguns ended and the period known as the "Meiji Restoration" began.

The Emperor changed the name of his capital city from Edo to Tokyo ("Eastern Capital") and began instituting various reforms that resulted in Japan's rapid and dramatic transformation from a feudal society to a modern, industrialized nation.

Meiji Shrine: a traditional oasis in the middle of one of the world's most modern cities

Japanese people take great pride in Emperor Meiji and the Meiji Restoration, and with good reason. Emperor Meiji was an intelligent, educated man whose poetry and private writings indicate a strong dedication to pacifism and peace. He cared deeply for the welfare of his nation and his people.

The entrance to the main shrine complex.

He negotiated treaties with many foreign nations, opened Japan to trade, and opened the way for the modernization of Japan's industry and society. After his death in 1912, the Japanese government constructed Meiji Shrine to commemorate the Emperor's life and his role in the Meiji Restoration.

The shrine was constructed from Japanese cypress, in the traditional Shinto style, and enshrines both the emperor and his wife as deities. The shrine includes a museum (open to the public) with treasures and artifacts that belonged to (or commemorate) the Emperor and his wife. The shrine's grounds cover 170 acres, much of which is covered with enormous trees.

One of the many lovely paths through Meiji Shrine

Paths lead through the complex, allowing visitors to enjoy the grounds as well as the shrine's many buildings.

A view back out through the shrine's entrance torii

Although the original shrine was destroyed by air raids during World War II, the shrine was entirely rebuilt (through public fundraising efforts) in 1958.

A display of wooden amulets, each representing a prayer to or on behalf of the emperor and his wife

As you can see from the images above, the shrine is both breathtakingly beautiful and a lovely, peaceful retreat located at the center of one of the world's most modern capital cities.

A fitting tribute to Emperor Meiji, indeed.