This January I opted to stay at the extraordinary Buddhist temple Chishakuin. I'd had a wonderful time staying at a sub-temple of Myōshin-ji called Shunkoin in 2016, and I was keen to understand a little more about the religion which underpins this ancient capital, and in turn underpins the literature that I love so much, the Heian literature which includes the classic novel by Murasaki Shikibu, Genji Monogatari.
Chishakuin is a sizeable complex located near to Sanjūsangendō in southern Higashiyama. It is about a 20-minute walk through interesting lanes and past Rokuharamitsu-ji, through Kennin-ji to Gion in central Kyoto. It is also about a 20-minute walk to Kyoto Station, although it is well served by a bus from outside Sanjūsangendō.
The accomodation appears to be recently built. I was expecting university-style accomodation but Chishakuin is more like a small 3-star hotel, with modern facilities and check -in.
I stayed in a Japanese-style room, with tatami floor and comfy futon bed.
The view from the window was compelling, and I had a comfy armchair and table to work from. It was the most amazing office view!
I was extremely impressed by the Morning Scripture Service and Goma Fire Ritual, which as a staying guest, I was allowed to participate in. Please forgive my poor descriptions - I entered the ritual having never seen anything like this before, and I do not know the names or what I was truly seeing. I can only relate my impressions of something extraordinary and wonderful.
Chishakuin guests assembled in the accomodation block reception area before dawn, quiet and sleepy. We were led out into the chill night air towards the lit-up Kondō - taken through a side entrance where we took off our shoes, and led up a staircase, which surprisingly gave me a flashback to being led into the Great Hall for dinner at an Oxford University college.
We sat on stools at the back of the hall, with two lines of monks kneeling perpendicular to us and the 'altar'. Both men and women chanted from a concertina-style prayer book covered with calligraphy.
The morning before I had watched steam curl and rise from a kettle buried into the tatami floor of a tiny chashitsu in a north Kyoto shrine. The chanting brought to my mind the steam and the sound curling around us above our heads like a giant ink-painted dragon.
The entrancing sound brought to my mind those Kyoto empresses who laboured in childbirth, and the monks urgently chanting sutras across the province to pray for the safe delivery of a prince.
Smoke from the goma ritual fire filled the whole pavilion;
the ringing of liturgical bells echoed among the clouds aloft;
awesome scripture-chanting voices set hair bristling on every head.
No spirit bent on evil could possibly have faced them down.
Heike Monogatari
The chanting continued for at least 30 minutes, and then everyone was invited to move centrally on their knees to a large urn and sprinkle what I think was incense into it, and pray.
The sound of the priests, both male and female, chanting sutras before the principal buddha Dainichi Nyorai was other-worldly and hypnotic, in a similar way to the konchikichin music from the floats at the Gion Matsuri. Notes were at times ever so slightly discordant - I had a flashback to sitting in Christchurch Cathedral, Oxford, experiencing the ecstatically heavenly choral Spem in Alium reverberate through me.
I found myself glancing to the outer edge of the Kondō as the purple, green, yellow, red, and white drapes fluttered in the dawn air.
The sun was beginning to glow golden above the peaks of the Eastern Mountains, like the twisting golden shapes around the altar which flowed down from the ceiling.
We left the Main Hall and the young monk in saffron robes led us, as we gazed across at the views of Kyoto, to the side of a second temple building, the Myōōden Hall. I was completely unprepared for the extraordinary experience which followed.
I now understand that it was the Goma Fire Ritual, where a priest burns Homa prayer sticks before the principal buddha Fudō Myōō (Acalanātha), who has been handed down to Chishakuin from Negoro Temple.
Seated on cushioned stools at the back of the Hall, before us sat a monk with his back to us, before a blazing pyramid of fire. The yellow fire stretched up towards the ceiling in a towering isosceles triangle of flame, orange sparks crackling and spitting upwards in the air.
To one side, a monk beat a drum on its side fiercely, increasing in passion and speed, as a group of monks to his side chanted urgently and earnestly.
The drapes of the temple seemed to move in the swirling air with the vibration and power of the chanting.
The whole scene was wild and it felt ancient and shamanistic.
I now understand that the monks are praying for Fudō Myōō’s flames of wisdom to assist in the realisation of their desires.
On their website they quite rightly say: The roaring flames and the echoes of the taiko drums and chanted sutras reverberating throughout the hall have a powerful impact.
We were gifted an inked washi paper amulet, to keep with us as a blessing and protection from Fudō Myōō. Mine is carefully placed in my wallet, so I can carry it with me every day.
After this deeply impressive imagery of the Fire Ritual, the monk led us out into the icy early morning air for a tour of the beautiful sub-temple which adjoins a garden beloved by the famous Kyoto tea master, Sen no Rikyū.
The gilded art by Hasegawa Tōhaku and his son, Hasegawa Kyūzō, the tatami and the beautiful lamp light, in combination with the incredibly lovely garden which recreated mountains and streams was truly breathtaking. It was here I saw that iconic bird of spring which is mentioned so often in Genji: uguisu, the little green Bush Warbler.
Kyoto is an incredibly beautiful city with, I'm sure, countless hidden treasures, and this was surely one of them.
Hasegawa Tōhaku, Maple (National Treasure)
Hasegawa Tōhaku, Cherry Blossom (National Treasure)
I had long been intrigued by Buddhist monk's vegetarian fare, and hoped one day to try it, but nothing could have prepared me for how delicious the many little dishes of shōjin ryōri is!
I had breakfast on two of the three mornings that I stayed at Chishakuin, and each day the breakfast was different. I was bowled over by the deeply subtle flavours. A small, timed, burner was on the table when I arrived in the breakfast room ravenous after the amazing morning. On the top was a little kettle of tofu hotpot with long, pale mushrooms. The delicate broth was delicious!
Shunkoin, Myōshin-ji Temple Complex
Nearest station is Hanazono on the Arashiyama (JR Sagano) Line.
Near to Ninna-ji and the northern lane that leads to Ryoan-ji and Kinkaku-ji.
I stayed at Shunkoin (Subtemple of the Ray of Spring Light) for 3 nights in the autumn of 2016. My husband, an engineer working with a Japanese company in Kanazawa, travelled to Tokyo to attend the engineering trade fair JIMTOF. I stayed behind in Kyoto, and we had a sweet moment when he waved goodbye to me as I sat on the bus that would take me to Myōshin-ji from Kyoto station.
I've always tried to walk past Shunkoin when I've subsequently visited Kyoto. I loved this place, it placed an enchantment on me, with the monks chanting at dawn, and the quiet lanes of cloistered sub-temples that have echoes of that other ancient city that I love so much: Oxford.
Most of all I loved the Zazen Meditation experience, led by Rev. Takafumi Kawakami. I sat at the back of the tatami-matted room, nearest to the wooden walkway, and my imagination drifted with the mountain bird song, taking me gently outside into the clean air and the views across the wooded mountains. It was very tranquil!
Afterwards, the monk took us to see the beautiful karesansui garden which symbolises the Grand Shrine of Ise where the Shinto sun goddess Amaterasu rests.
Within the temple here we could see the stunningly beautiful art which had been painted by the ninth leading master of the renowned Kanō school: Kanō Eigaku (1790-1867). I understand that he painted the beautiful wildfowl paintings at Nijō Castle, too.
I remember I had a revelation here, as Rev. Takafumi explained that the gold-leaf surrounded paintings were created for candle-light, not modern electric light. I remember him demonstrating so we could see just how the gold receded in the candle-light, bringing the paintings of wildlife sharply forward.
I've always thought of this when I've seen the dazzling beauty of maiko, in their white make-up and glittering obi. This beauty was created for a different sort of indoor light, which makes them appear astonishingly other-worldly.
We were later led to a small room with a table where we were served whisked matcha tea and beautifully arranged crackers on a wooden plate.
I deeply felt the special nature of this experience. Perhaps it was this moment that made me realise that there was so much richness hidden away in the temples and teahouses of Kyoto. It is experiences like this that made me feel like I had stepped through a veil, into another space and time, into something that had been continuing down the ages in this beautiful, mysterious ancient capital.
Of course, there are other exquisite places of utter peace which suspend time here in Myōshin-ji.
Taizo-in has a renowned garden including karesansui. I enjoyed tea and a sweet looking out over the beautiful compact garden one autumn.
Keisho-in is hidden away in a very quiet lane of the temple complex. It is a garden full of stillness and shadows which creep over the mosses which cushion the small garden. Here you can sit with tea and a sweet and not be disturbed.
During my stay, I asked several Kyoto residents about the tourism problem in Kyoto, and everyone I spoke to was concerned. But, I believe that there are still many, many temple and shrine areas, steeped in history and sanctity, that are hugely restorative for their quietness and calm.
Cathy
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Sources
The Metropolitan Museum of Art: Meet the Protector of Buddhist Law
John Dougill and John Einarsen, Zen Gardens and Temples of Kyoto, Tuttle Publishing.
Royall Tyler (translator), Heike Monogatari, (Penguin Classics), p.142.
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