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.

Traditional Japanese Wayside Shrines

-- Susan, every other Sunday

Wayside (or roadside) shrines appear around the world, and in many religions. Some take the form of memorials placed on the site of an accident, while others exist to invoke a blessing or protection on places or passersby.

This shrine is a guardian of roads and village boundaries.

Japan has tens of thousands of wayside shrines and memorial tablets, many of which date back at least several centuries. I see (and photograph) dozens of them while hiking the old travel roads and through the mountains.

Many of these shrines feature images of Buddhas or bodhisattvas.

Japan's open air folk house museum, Nihon Minka-en, features a lovely collection of wayside shrines.

A pair of Buddhas which once protected travelers on Japanese roads.

Many of the monuments were moved from their original locations to the museum when modernization (mainly expanding roads) required their removal.

Some consist of small house-like shrines, like this one dedicated to the kami (god) Inari, patron god of fertility, rice, agriculture, creative and worldly success, swordsmiths, and merchants (among other things - Inari Ōkami really gets around) and Kaikogami, the patron god of silkworms.

You can fit two gods in this tiny shrine. Who knew?

Others show carvings of Buddhas or bodhisattvas, like this rokujizō, which shows six copies of the bodhisattva Jizō - one for each of the post-death worlds from which Jizō can supposedly save the dead.

Whatever your post-death fate, Jizō's got you covered.

Most of the museum's shrines have helpful signs describing the small shrine's history, original location, and purpose. In some cases, however, you're on your own.

In case you can't read it, this says "A Small Stone Shrine" - in English and Japanese

Some of the shrines sat at the outer boundary of a village, and protected the entire community from harm:

This once protected the town of Sakuho, in Nagano Prefecture

While others serve as memorials to the dead.

The most unusual such memorial I've seen sits on a hillside just outside the old post town of Tsumago on the preserved section of the Nakasendo - a feudal travel road through the Japan alps. It's called the Gyutou Kannon, and it exists to honor the memory of "black cattle" (a breed of black haired Japanese oxen) that gave their lives while hauling cargo over the hills along the travel road.

In honor of cows.

Along that same stretch of the Nakasendo, additional monuments honor the horses that gave their lives as well.

There are also wayside shrines for people, like this Jizō, which stands near the place where the travel road enters Tsumago.

Bibs and hats are a common offering on Jizō statues.

These shrines are ubiquitous in Japan, especially in the countryside (though you can find wayside shrines in the cities too - including high-tech, urban Tokyo, if you keep your eyes open). Even so, people often walk right by without considering the history and spiritual importance of these carvings. Centuries later, they still stand watch over many Japanese roads, trails, and villages. If you find yourself in Japan, keep an eye out for them - and know that they'll be watching over you.

Surprised by Unexpected Joy*

-- Susan, every other Sunday.

*Given the state of the world, we need all the unexpected joy we can find, anywhere we can find it.

I woke up on the morning of July 10, 2017 -- the last full day of my research-and-graduation-celebration trip to Japan with my son -- with plans to shoot some last-minute research photos at Sensoji, Tokyo's oldest Buddhist temple.

Incense burning before a memorial stone at Sensoji.

I'd already visited the temple once, on the first full day of our trip, but it had rained:

Rain on Nakamise Street - with the temple gate in the background.

Which made shooting research images (both at Sensoji and at neighboring Asakusa Shrine) challenging:

Shrine guardian in the rain.

Since my son had plans with friends, I hopped the Ginza Line subway and emerged in the shopping street near Sensoji. People thronged the streets, packed even more tightly than I anticipated. Sensoji is a popular tourist spot, as well as a functioning Buddhist temple, but I hadn't expected such a crowd.

The reason for all the people became apparent as I reached the gate: unbeknownst to me, I'd arrived on a festival day:

Yay! IT'S A FESTIVAL!

Since I'd never experienced a Japanese shrine or temple festival, I was beyond thrilled. (For this, I was even willing to overcome my usual distaste for crowds.)

Food vendors lined the pathways all around the temple grounds, selling a variety of festival treats.

Slushy drinks, Fried Chicken, and CHOCO BANANA on a stick.

He's selling giant crab legs. Seriously. I'm not kidding.

Other stalls sold beautiful ground cherry pod plants and stalks, as well as hand-painted glass lanterns.

Ground cherry pod, aka "Chinese Lantern Plant"

The scent of plants and the tinkling of lanterns filled the air, along with a pleasantly cooling mist from spritzers hanging above the stalls.

Plants or pods, the choice is up to you.

Asakusa Jinja, a Shinto shrine that sits adjacent to the worship hall at Sensoji, was also celebrating.

Entrance to Asakusa Jinja

Tanabata trees lined the approach to the shrine, in recognition of the July festival commemorating the once-a-year heavenly meeting of the weaver and the cowherd.

People write wishes on colored paper and tie them to the tanabata tree.

A vendor just inside the shrine was selling one of the coolest festival drinks in Tokyo right now: a flavored slush composed of shaved ice, sparkling water and flavored syrup, served in a plastic lightbulb and adorned with a smaller, LED light-up lightbulb toy.

Japanese slushy drink! (Not too sweet.)

The day was hot, and I was thirsty, so I bought one--in the name of research.

The grape one was so tasty I went back for a lemon one later on.

While I sat in the shade, enjoying my treat, a Japanese woman approached me and said, "You're so lucky! You're here today!"

"Thank you!" I said, "It was a surprise - I didn't realize today was a festival."

Her grin got even bigger. "You didn't know! So lucky! Today is the day of 46,000 prayers. Do you know this festival?"

When I admitted ignorance, she explained:

"We believe that if you pray at Sensoji on July 10, it's the same as saying 46,000 prayers. Also, today is also the ground cherry plant festival, so you get two matsuri (festivals) in one! You really didn't know?"

I shook my head. "I didn't. This is my last day in Japan, and I wanted to spend it at Sensoji."

She clapped her hands in delight. "You are so lucky. Make sure to say a prayer today. It will count 46,000 times."

I promised I would, and thanked her, and she headed off to the worship hall.

Although I'd only planned to spend a couple of hours at the shrine, I scratched the rest of my plans and spent the entire day enjoying festival food, shooting photos, watching people, and reveling in the presence of hundreds of happy people enjoying a day at the festival.

The hozomon gate, as seen from the worship hall veranda.

Children laughed and ran around. Teenagers ate iced sodas, fries, and takoyaki (deep-fried octopus balls - a festival favorite). Adults of all ages strolled the grounds, bought ground cherry plants, and admired the tinkling lanterns that hung everywhere.

Ground cherry pods on display.

I saw people of many races (though admittedly, most were Japanese), both tourists and natives, Buddhists and people who doubtless belonged to other religions yet had come to see this lovely and important holy place.

Everyone loves a matsuri.

I didn't see a single unhappy face the entire day, and I don't know when I last saw such a large group of people enjoying themselves so much.

Festival booths with the Tokyo Skytree in the background.

Eventually I had to leave to meet my son for our final dinner in Tokyo and a trip to the Owl Cafe, but before I did, I said a prayer, as the Japanese woman suggested.

More accurately, I said 46,000 prayers, all the same: that everyone in the world could experience the kind of unexpected, unadulterated joy I had that day.