When we left the house on Sunday, we had no idea were starting a pilgrimage. Our plan was to take the train somewhere and do some sightseeing. We didn’t even think about where we would go. We just went.
Grant and I were drifting around inside the train station when a Japanese woman noticed we looked lost. “Do you need help?” She asked in English better than that of many Americans.
Grant and I were drifting around inside the train station when a Japanese woman noticed we looked lost. “Do you need help?” She asked in English better than that of many Americans.
We replied, “Sort of, we don’t really know where we want to go.”
She suggested we visit Kamakura and see the big Buddha. I had heard of this. It was one of the sights the Navy recommended we see while we are here. The woman and her two children, who spoke English even better than she did, gave us directions to another train station, where we could board a train to Kamakura
At the JR train station we ran into three reactor mechanics Grant knew from the boat. They were going to Kamakura too. We decided to team up with them and get lost together.
Like everything else in Japan, the train station was a lot more efficient than the ones in the states. You bought your ticket by selecting your fare from a vending machine. You didn’t even have to know how far you were going since there were “adjustment points” along the way where you could pay more money if you went further than your ticket permitted, no change if you didn't go far enough though. Then all you had to do was feed your ticket into a slot on the turnstile and it popped out the other side with a little hole punched out of it. You took your ticket and got on the train.
The train was wide and clean and quiet. When people were traveling in groups they spoke softly or not at all. In true American fashion, we refused to take the one free seat between two people and elected to stand instead. Our personal space bubbles seem a lot bigger than those of the Japanese. I held on to the ring in the ceiling and watched through the open door as the car next to us swayed and pitched like a boat on rough seas.
We didn’t know when our stop was but a small lite-brite screen over each exit door showed the next stop. I decided I would watch that looking for Kamakura. The listings came in English letters, known here as Romanji; Hirigana, which I can mostly read; and Kanji, the Japanese pictographs which I can’t read at all. It seemed pretty fool-proof, but it did leave us with some uncertainty as to how long we had to ride the train.
After awhile I discovered a train map pasted to the ceiling above our heads. I hung awkwardly from my ring trying to piece together where we were and where we were going. Places on the map were also shown in Romanji and Kanji. Kara noticed what I was doing and came over to help. We discovered we only had two stops left.
We got off the train, adjusted our tickets and spilled into the street where we loitered, confused. We were in Kamakura but we had no idea how to get to the Buddha from here. While the others debated over a tourist map erected on the sidewalk, I looked around. Behind us I saw a sign that said “tourist information.” Approaching the window, I found a second sign which said, “tourist information available please enter building.” Any place with this many decently translated English signs had to have one or two English speaking staff members. I went inside.
As I approached the desk a woman thrust a map in my direction. “You are here.” She circled a point on the map with a pink highlighter. “We would like to see the big Buddha,” I said pointing to a picture of it posted on the wall. She proceeded to give me directions while drawing the route on the map. By the time she recommended we stop at the Hasedera Temple on our way, Kara was at my elbow.
The Japanese system for naming roads is simple - they don't. Fortunately, my mother had taught me how to read a map when I was a little girl. (Thanks mom!) We made it to the temple without incident. The streets were narrow and quiet. We felt self-conscious if we spoke to loudly. Even the boys’ speculation that I was making it all up and really had no idea where I was going came to my ears just above a whisper.
She suggested we visit Kamakura and see the big Buddha. I had heard of this. It was one of the sights the Navy recommended we see while we are here. The woman and her two children, who spoke English even better than she did, gave us directions to another train station, where we could board a train to Kamakura
At the JR train station we ran into three reactor mechanics Grant knew from the boat. They were going to Kamakura too. We decided to team up with them and get lost together.
Like everything else in Japan, the train station was a lot more efficient than the ones in the states. You bought your ticket by selecting your fare from a vending machine. You didn’t even have to know how far you were going since there were “adjustment points” along the way where you could pay more money if you went further than your ticket permitted, no change if you didn't go far enough though. Then all you had to do was feed your ticket into a slot on the turnstile and it popped out the other side with a little hole punched out of it. You took your ticket and got on the train.
The train was wide and clean and quiet. When people were traveling in groups they spoke softly or not at all. In true American fashion, we refused to take the one free seat between two people and elected to stand instead. Our personal space bubbles seem a lot bigger than those of the Japanese. I held on to the ring in the ceiling and watched through the open door as the car next to us swayed and pitched like a boat on rough seas.
We didn’t know when our stop was but a small lite-brite screen over each exit door showed the next stop. I decided I would watch that looking for Kamakura. The listings came in English letters, known here as Romanji; Hirigana, which I can mostly read; and Kanji, the Japanese pictographs which I can’t read at all. It seemed pretty fool-proof, but it did leave us with some uncertainty as to how long we had to ride the train.
After awhile I discovered a train map pasted to the ceiling above our heads. I hung awkwardly from my ring trying to piece together where we were and where we were going. Places on the map were also shown in Romanji and Kanji. Kara noticed what I was doing and came over to help. We discovered we only had two stops left.
We got off the train, adjusted our tickets and spilled into the street where we loitered, confused. We were in Kamakura but we had no idea how to get to the Buddha from here. While the others debated over a tourist map erected on the sidewalk, I looked around. Behind us I saw a sign that said “tourist information.” Approaching the window, I found a second sign which said, “tourist information available please enter building.” Any place with this many decently translated English signs had to have one or two English speaking staff members. I went inside.
As I approached the desk a woman thrust a map in my direction. “You are here.” She circled a point on the map with a pink highlighter. “We would like to see the big Buddha,” I said pointing to a picture of it posted on the wall. She proceeded to give me directions while drawing the route on the map. By the time she recommended we stop at the Hasedera Temple on our way, Kara was at my elbow.
The Japanese system for naming roads is simple - they don't. Fortunately, my mother had taught me how to read a map when I was a little girl. (Thanks mom!) We made it to the temple without incident. The streets were narrow and quiet. We felt self-conscious if we spoke to loudly. Even the boys’ speculation that I was making it all up and really had no idea where I was going came to my ears just above a whisper.
The front gate of the Hasedera temple looked exactly as we had expected.
In the open-air space we found pools full of Koi and beautiful plants. On the side of the path a small fountain offered six or seven long handled ladles, which devotees used to pour water over their hands as a cleansing ritual. We mounted the steps and came to a small landing.
Incense was drifting on the breeze. Hundreds of tiny statues lined the path up to a small shrine. The statues are placed there to comfort the souls of unborn or aborted children. Some even wore tiny caps and bibs.
The shrine, according to my pamphlet, was the home of Fukuji Jizo the enlightened one who possesses all the blessings of the Earth. In his own small way he was overwhelming. Toys, candy and food filled the tiny shrine from wall to wall, completely burying the statue’s feet. I came away awed. The others, whether out of discomfort or respect, did not approach the shrine.
We climbed the next flight of stairs and passed the Shoro Belfry housing the great bronze bell, which is rung 108 times around midnight on December 31 in order to dispel the 108 sufferings of humanity.
We climbed the next flight of stairs and passed the Shoro Belfry housing the great bronze bell, which is rung 108 times around midnight on December 31 in order to dispel the 108 sufferings of humanity.
Next we approached the Amida-do Hall where a golden statue of Amida Buddha, the Buddha of compassion, who, in this form, protected against evil spirits, sat 9-and-a-half feet tall. Some people threw money in the offering box. I could only stare. The sight was awe inspiring.
I thought I was overwhelmed. Then we entered the Kannon-do Hall and I realized I was drowning. There a 30 foot tall statue of Hase Kannon, the Bodhisattva of Mercy, stood covered in gold leaf and staring at me with 11 of her 12 heads. The many faces of the statue show that she will listen to all types of people. Dozens gathered at her feet praying quietly. A small group to one side chanted hymns. Outside I took a deep breath. This temple had stood since 721 A.D. it was an ancient and powerful place.Perhaps the strangest structure on the grounds was the Kyozo Sutra Archive. The center of the archive looked like a grain mill, the old-fashioned kind to which a farmer would harness cattle or horses to walk in circles thus grinding the grain. Instead of horses, people took turns moving the huge contraption with the belief that by turning the rinzo they would earn the same merit as reading from all the sutras, the teachings of the Buddha.
Finally, on our way out, we passed through the Benten-kutsu Cave. Inside, Benzaiten, the sea goddess who is one of the seven lucky gods of Japan was carved out of the rock walls along with her 16 children. The cave was dark and low. Grant had to bend almost in half to get through. One of the rooms was filled with tiny figurines on which people had written their wishes in hopes Benzaiten would grant them.
For more information and PICTURES of the Hasedera Temple visit http://www.hasedera.jp/ this includes pictures of the Statues which I was not allowed to photograph.
Out on the street, we stopped at a vendor to buy souvenirs. I paid 100 yen for a postcard with a picture of Hase Kannon on it, since I wasn’t allowed to take pictures inside her shrine.
We ate lunch at a five-table establishment with low ceilings and tiny chairs. Because the waitress spoke almost no English we had a little trouble ordering. Luckily, between the picture menus and my few words of Japanese we managed.
Out on the street, we stopped at a vendor to buy souvenirs. I paid 100 yen for a postcard with a picture of Hase Kannon on it, since I wasn’t allowed to take pictures inside her shrine.
We ate lunch at a five-table establishment with low ceilings and tiny chairs. Because the waitress spoke almost no English we had a little trouble ordering. Luckily, between the picture menus and my few words of Japanese we managed.
Then we set off to find the Buddha. The Great Buddha sits within his own outdoor temple. He is about 40 feet tall. As we approached I could see his head rising over the wall. 
Standing at his feet, I felt like a gnat on the face of a stone. 
This statue was nearly 1000 years old. It had survived a tidal wave that swept away the rest of the temple and watched as the temple was rebuilt around it. Millions of people had looked into that huge face and contemplated is half-closed eyes.
A single monk stood beside the statue, chanting and accepting offerings from passers-by. I watched him crouch, without pausing his prayers, to proffer his bowl to a small child with a coin. The boy deposited the money and scuttled away.
We paid 40 yen, about 40 cents, to be allowed enter into the 121-ton bronze body of the Buddha. Inside, devotees had pressed coins into the seams of the statue and filled every fold. I even noticed a blue glass marble, presumably a child’s gift to the Buddha.
This statue was nearly 1000 years old. It had survived a tidal wave that swept away the rest of the temple and watched as the temple was rebuilt around it. Millions of people had looked into that huge face and contemplated is half-closed eyes.A single monk stood beside the statue, chanting and accepting offerings from passers-by. I watched him crouch, without pausing his prayers, to proffer his bowl to a small child with a coin. The boy deposited the money and scuttled away.
We paid 40 yen, about 40 cents, to be allowed enter into the 121-ton bronze body of the Buddha. Inside, devotees had pressed coins into the seams of the statue and filled every fold. I even noticed a blue glass marble, presumably a child’s gift to the Buddha.
As we left I wondered what the Buddha would have though of all this. He taught practicality and belief in what you could test and prove. If he could see this monument erected in his name, would he laugh or cry, or simply stare at us with hooded eyes?
I leave you today with the wisdom of the Buddha:
"The thought manifests as the word;
The word manifests as the deed;
The deed develops into habit;
And habit hardens into character;
So watch the thought and its ways with care,
And let it spring from love
Born out of concern for all beings…
As the shadow follows the body,
As we think, so we become."
How are your thoughts?
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