Trees In the Town

 

Sarashina Diary: Retold in the present tense (9)

 

The ladies-in-waiting who are accustomed to the company of court nobles seem to attract all the attention, but nobody cares whether a simple-hearted country woman like me exists or not. On a very dark night at the beginning of October, when sweet-voiced reciters are to read sutras throughout the night, my companion—another lady-in-waiting—and I go out to the entrance door of the hall to listen to them. After talking for a while, we sit nodding and napping. Then, I notice Minamoto Sukemichi (1005–1060), whose father worked with my father in 1001, approaching the hall. "It would be awkward to run away to our room to call the more prominent ladies-in-waiting. Let’s remain right here and see what happens," says my companion, playfully encouraging me to stay. I sit beside her, listening to him.

Sukemichi speaks gently and quietly. There is nothing regrettable about his demeanor. "Who is the other lady?" he asks my companion, casting a curious glance toward me. He says nothing rude or amorous like other men, but talks delicately of the moving and sorrowful things of the world; many a phrase of his possesses a strange power that keeps me from leaving. My companion and I engage in a witty, refined exchange with him. "I did not think there would still be someone so charmingly unfamiliar to me in this residence," he says. He seems completely captivated by me and does not appear inclined to leave anytime soon.

There is no starlight, and a gentle shower falls in the darkness. Its soft patter on the leaves is utterly charming. "On a night of such deep, hidden beauty," Sukemichi says, "the full, naked moonlight would actually be mismatched. It should never be too dazzling." Discoursing elegantly upon the rival beauties of Spring and Autumn, he continues, "Although every season possesses its own unique charm, how exquisitely lovely is the spring haze! When the sky is tranquil and softly overcast, the face of the moon is not too bright, appearing as if it is floating upon a distant, misty river. At such a time, the calm, gentle melody of the lute is nothing short of exquisite.

"In Autumn, on the other hand, the moon shines with piercing clarity. Even when mists trail over the horizon, we can see things as clearly as if they are right before our eyes. The sighing of the wind, the delicate voices of insects—all sweet, sorrowful things seem to melt together. When, at such a moment, we listen to the poignant autumnal music of the koto, we think but little of the Spring.

"In Autumn, we cannot help but think that way. Yet in Winter, when even the sky looks frozen through and through, it is magnificently cold; the snow blankets the earth, its pristine light mingling with the pale moonshine. Then, when the piercing notes of the hichiriki vibrate through the crisp air, we forget both Spring and Autumn entirely." Having spun his silver-tongued tale, he turns to us and asks, "Which season, then, lingers most fondly in your mind?"

My companion answers in favor of Autumn, and I, not wishing to imitate her, reply with a tanka poem:

In the pale green night,

Flowers all melt into one,

Blending like the soft haze,

As the spring moon shines so faint.

He, after repeating my tanka poem to himself over and over, says, "Then you give up Autumn?” and replies:

If I am to live after tonight,

I will cherish the Spring,

Holding it in my heart forever

As a tender memento from you.

My companion, who favors Autumn, chimes in:

Others seem to give their hearts to Spring.

Even if it be so,

I shall remain alone,

Gazing at the lonely Autumn moon.

He seems deeply intrigued, and, as if playful yet embarrassed, says, "Even in Tang China, poets were divided between Spring and Autumn. Your choices make me think that there must be some personal reasons which make you judge in your own ways. When I feel deeply unhappy or heartily joyful, my mind inclines to be dyed with the colors of the sky, the moon, or the flowers of that very moment. I desire so much to know what inclines your hearts to Spring or Autumn.

“The moon of a winter night is usually spoken of as an instance of dreary bleakness. As it is bitterly cold at night, I had never seen it intentionally. However, I went down to Ise Province in November, 1025, to serve as the Imperial messenger at the coming-of-age ceremony on December 5th for Princess Senhi (1005–1081), the Saigu, the High Priestess of Ise. I thought about leaving for Kyoto in the early dawn, so I went to take leave of the Princess. Days of snow had accumulated, and the moon illuminated the snow with dazzling brightness. As I was on my journey, I felt very uneasy.

"Her residence, compared with others, was awe-inspiring, as I regarded it as a sacred place. I was ushered into an elegant room. There was an old lady-in-waiting who had started serving during the reign of Emperor En’yu (959–991). She looked incredibly holy and ancient. In a most refined manner, she told of the things of long ago with tears in her eyes. She then brought out a beautifully tuned Japanese Biwa lute. The music she played did not sound like anything belonging to this world. I regretted that the dawn should ever break, and was touched so deeply that I had almost forgotten all about Kyoto. Ever since then, the snowy nights of winter always remind me of that scene. I have never missed going out and gazing at the winter moon, sometimes even bringing a brazier out with me. You, too, must certainly have your own reasons for favoring your chosen seasons. Hereafter, as a matter of course, every dark night with a gentle rain will touch my heart. I feel tonight has been in no way inferior to that snowy night at the residence of the Saigu."

With these words, he departs, and I wonder if he could have known who I was.

In August of the following year, Princess Yushi goes again to the Inner Palace, where entertainment continues throughout the night. I do not know that Sukemichi is present there, and I pass that night in my own room in the Fujitsubo House. When I look out in the early morning, opening the sliding doors onto the corridor, I see the morning moon, very faint and charming. I hear footsteps, with someone among them reciting a sutra. The one who is reciting stops right in front of the entrance of the house and calls out a greeting. As I am the only one awake in the house, I reply. He, suddenly recognizing my voice, exclaims, "That night of softly falling rain—I have not forgotten it, even for a single moment! How I have yearned for you." As the situation does not permit me many words, I compose a tanka poem:

Why do you cherish so deeply

The memory of that gentle shower,

Whispering softly upon the leaves,

Lost in the fleeting mood of that night?

I have scarcely uttered these words when other people approach, and I quickly steal back inside.

After that evening, I return home. Later, I hear that he visited my companion—the one who had debated Spring and Autumn with me before—and left with her a tanka poem composed in reply to mine. According to hearsay, he said, "If there should ever be another night as tranquil as that of the winter shower, I would dearly love to play my lute for her, sharing every melody I know."

How I wished to hear him play! I waited for the perfect occasion, but alas, it never came.

In the following Spring, on one tranquil evening, I hear that Sukemichi comes to the Princess's residence. I creep out of my room with my companion—the very one with whom Sukemichi and I had debated Spring and Autumn. However, the hall is already filled with the usual crowd: guests visiting from outside and the regular ladies-in-waiting inside, all seemingly waiting with bated breath to see what will happen. Finding no quiet moment under their watchful eyes, I stop creeping forward and turn back. I fondly convince myself that he must share the very same mind as me—surely, he has come precisely because it is such a tranquil night, but has retreated simply because it is too noisy.

The tempting sounds of whirling currents

Urge a sailor to venture out to sea.

Does a beach fisherman, I wonder,

Share the very same mind as he?

Having composed this tanka poem, I have nothing more to do. His personality is, in truth, very honest and sincere; he is not just another ordinary man. Yet, time simply passes by, without him approaching me, or me approaching him.

Trees In the Town

 

Virtual Kako County Saigoku 33 Kannon Pilgrimage #13 Kannon-ji Temple

 

     The exact founding date of Kannon-ji Temple (also known as Kannon-do) in Sakamoto Village, Kako County, remains shrouded in mystery. The earliest historical record of the village itself dates back to 1515, a period when the surrounding Harima Province was plunged into political turmoil.

     In those days, while Akamatsu Yoshimura (?-1521) was the official shugo (samurai guardian) of Harima, his vassal Uragami Muramune (1498-1531) held the actual power as the province's hegemon. Local warriors were deeply divided, clashing between the Akamatsu and Uragami factions. Amidst this chaos, historical documents indicate that Kakurin-ji Temple held various pockets of land scattered across local villages, including Sakamoto. However, the ancient authority and wealth of such traditional temples were gradually chipped away as Sengoku warlords aggressively consolidated their territorial control.

     Records show that Kakurin-ji managed to retain its land in Sakamoto Village until as late as 1534. The instability of the region peaked in 1558, when Kodera Masatomo (1529-1584) launched a military coup within the Akamatsu Clan, forcing the clan head, Harumasa (1495-1565), to cede power to his son, Yoshisuke (1537-1576). It was through this turbulent era of shifting borders and fading temple estates that Kannon-ji Temple quietly endured.

Address: Sakamoto-505 Noguchicho, Kakogawa, Hyogo 675-0018

Trees In the Town

 

Sarashina Diary: Retold in the present tense (8)

 

The people in Princess Yushi’s residence tell me that they do not believe I truly want to shut myself up at home. They often call me. Once, they call my niece on purpose. I have no alternative but to let her go sometimes, and my niece takes me with her. With my niece, I am never so blinded by my naive pride as to expect an unreliable wish as I did before. Veteran ladies-in-waiting wear very confident expressions about anything. As for me, I am not seen as very inexperienced, but am not treated as skillful. Sometimes, I am treated like a guest. My position is uncertain and ambiguous. I am not wholly or solely relied on. I do not feel envious of other valued ladies-in-waiting. I feel rather at ease. I go to the residence when I feel it is suitable. I talk with ladies-in-waiting who have time to kill. When they have happy events, elegant events, or interesting events, I refrain from maneuvering tactfully or standing out. I just try to listen to formal and superficial matters.

When Princess Yushi visits the Inner Palace in April of 1042, I accompany her. The moon before the daybreak is very bright. I remember that the Goddess Amaterasu is enshrined in the palace. I worship her on this very occasion. Guided secretly and personally by a lecturer’s wife whom I know, I visit the sacred shrine within the Imperial Palace under the bright moon. In the very dim lantern’s light, she is very old and looks as if she is possessed by the goddess. She is a very knowledgeable and well-informed lady-in-waiting. She does not seem to be a human but appears as if she descended from heaven.

Next night, Princess Yushi and her ladies-in-waiting, including me, visit the Inner Palace. We are in Fujitsubo, namely Wisteria House, which is allocated to the princess, and which is located in the north of the palace. We have eastern doors opened and look at the bright moon, chatting together. It sounds that Fujiwara Seishi (1014–1068), to whom Umetsubo, namely Plum House, is allocated, and which is located in the north of Fujitsubo, is elegantly and gracefully visiting where the emperor is to sleep. Seishi entered the court as the emperor's consort after the princess's mother, Fujiwara Genshi (1016–1039), died. We say, if Genshi were alive, it would be Genshi, not Seishi, who visits the emperor elegantly and gracefully. I am very deeply touched by the imagination:

Through the vast and open gate of heaven,

The radiant moon glides softly in the sky,

Bringing back the memory of the late empress

Who once walked these palace halls in days gone by.

In winter, on a moonless night, it does not snow, and starlight illuminates the velvet, crystal-clear sky from corner to corner. All night long, I share confidences with the ladies-in-waiting who serve the foster father of Princess Yushi (1038–1105). Dawn breaks, and they drift away one by one. One of them composes:

We spent a moonless winter night,

Enwrapped in shadows, deep and still,

Yet with no blossoms in our sight,

Why does its lingering spell haunt me still?

It is charming that the lady-in-waiting feels the same as I do, so I reply:

The crystal sky of winter chills,

And freezes fast my weeping sleeve;

The icy frost that on it dwells,

Will make me weep again this eve.

When I keep night duty at Princess Yushi’s residence, the waterfowls in the pond cry and flutter their wings all night. Their sounds wake me, and I say to myself:

Restless on duty, awake I lie,

As waterfowls upon the deep;

With frosted wings they faintly cry,

And brush the cold, unable to sleep.

Another lady-in-waiting, lying beside me, chimes in with a knowing smile as she heard my poem:

Imagine, then, what I must bear,

Who keep these duties day by day;

How oft I brush the frost of care,

And wish to sweep the chill away!

On another day, ladies-in-waiting and I are chatting together with our sliding doors wide open. One of them invites her superior who is waiting upon the Princess. As the lady beside me sends inviting messages time and again, the superior replies, "If you need me urgently, I will go there." I send a poem, holding a withered pampas grass that happens to be at hand:

Our arms are weary, frail, and lean,

Like winter grass that beckons slow;

Come if you wish, or stay unseen,

Swayed like the pampas as winds blow.

Trees In the Town

 

Virtual Kako County Saigoku 33 Kannon Pilgrimage #12 Joraku-ji Temple

 

     Joraku-ji Temple is said to have been founded in 645 by the legendary hermit Hodo. What does the legend imply?

A Turning Point in East Asia (642–676)

     The year 642 marked a shift toward the restructuring of East Asia, culminating in Silla’s unification of the Korean Peninsula in 676. In 642, King Uija (599–660) of Baekje invaded Silla, capturing over 40 fortresses and killing the daughter and son-in-law of Kim Chun-chu (603–661), the future King of Silla.

     Domestically, King Uija established an autocratic regime, purging political opponents to solidify his grip. This concentration of power was mirrored across the region: Yeon Gaesomun (d. 666) seized power in a coup in Goguryeo, while in Japan, Soga Emishi (586–645) and his son Iruka (d. 645) tightened their control following the death of Emperor Jomei (593–641) and the ascension of Empress Kogyoku (594–661).

The Exile’s Persona: From "Field" to "Valley"

     Just as Sakanoue no Tamuramaro (758–811) was invoked as a symbolic founder of temples in the Tohoku region, "Hermit Hodo" served a specific purpose in Eastern Harima.

     During the mid-7th century, high-ranking Baekje nobles fleeing King Uija’s purges likely sought refuge in the Japanese archipelago. Some of these exiles settled in Eastern Harima, moving from the open "Fields" (flat lands) like Kusuhara (Camphor Field) into the deeper, oak-filled "Valleys" like Kashidani (Oak Valley) to reclaim the land. For these immigrant communities, Hodo—a legendary hermit said to have traveled from India through Tang China and Baekje—provided the perfect founding "persona," linking their local religious sites to a prestigious continental lineage of Buddhism.  For your information, Hodo, who is supposed to have originally borne the Sanskrit name Dharmapatha, might have been called Puap-dauh in China, Papp-do in Korea, and Papotau or Fafatau when he arrived in Japan.

     In the late Kamakura period, it was revived by the prominent Buddhist monk Monkan (1278–1357), and a thirteen-story stone pagoda was erected within its precincts in 1325.

     Monkan is believed to have been born into the Shinto priest family of Hioka Shrine, which is believed to have been founded in 730. Returning to his hometown in Harima Province around 1303–1306 as a young monk in his late twenties, he became a leading figure of the Shingon-Ritsu sect in the region. At his core, Monkan was a Ritsu monk dedicated to public salvation, directing major civil engineering and reclamation projects:

     Cultivation of Takokusa: Monkan initiated a land reclamation project in what was then the wasteland of Takogusa Kita-mura. He expanded cultivation southeastward along the Kumogawa River, covering the area of present-day Takokusa (Inami Town, Kako District). This effort was sustained by his successors after his death, culminating in the major expansion of the Tenma O-ike Pond at the end of the 14th century (a reservoir originally constructed in 675).

     The Gokai Irrigation System: To combat the chronic droughts of eastern Harima, medieval expansion and renovation were executed on the Gokai Irrigation System. This monumental project expanded its beneficiary area from 200 hectares to 700 hectares, serving as the foundational source of regional wealth for centuries.

     Monkan also possessed a brilliant political mind. By constructing the East Harima Showa-era Stone Pagodas and dedicating them to the Daikaku-ji imperial lineage, he secured the patronage of the era’s most powerful figures, including Emperor Go-Uda (1267–1324) and Crown Prince Takaharu (later Emperor Go-Daigo, 1288–1339).

     However, building such massive upstream irrigation systems was a double-edged sword, as it threatened the water supply of downstream areas. Monkan and his followers in upper eastern Harima became staunch supporters of the Southern Court, and their descendants frequently clashed over water rights with coastal communities—conflicts that persisted well into the Edo period. This perpetual tension over vital water resources may have provoked the coastal populace to organize into self-defense networks, ultimately contributing to the formation of the medieval Ikketsushu (united local leagues) along the Kakogawa river basin and coastal areas.

     The Kako County Saigoku 33 Kannon Pilgrimage might have been established in the 20th century to finally overcome the centuries-long conflicts over water rights.

Address: Ono-1762 Kakogawacho, Kakogawa, Hyogo 675-0061

Phone: 079-424-5882

Hioka Shrine

Address: Ono-1755 Kakogawacho, Kakogawa, Hyogo 675-0061

Phone: 079-422-7646

Tenma O-Pond

Address: Rokubuichi, Inami, Kako District, Hyogo 675-1112

Trees In the Town

 

Sarashina Diary: Retold in the present tense (7)

 

I have started working this way. I thought I would get used to working in the residence. I was occupied with my parents at home, but as I was not regarded as perverse in the residence, I seemed to have every reason to hope that I was counted on and favored like the other ladies-in-waiting.

It is puzzling of my parents, however, to confine me in the marriage with Tachibana Toshimichi (1002–1058). That can hardly make our life conditions sparkling or well-off. In addition, judging from my trifling and frivolous romantic mind, my husband is very disappointing and far from satisfactory. I unconsciously say to myself and pass my days:

I pick thousands of parsley leaves.

Not a single leaf yields even a dewdrop

To quench the inner thirst

Of my unfulfilled heart.

I have been consumed by household chores and I forget about romantic stories. My mind has become utterly plain and steady. I wonder why I spent my years and months idly, passing my time day in and day out. I did not engage in religious practices nor visit temples or shrines. I daydreamed about my romances, but what I imagined is not realistic.

Could there be anyone like the Shining Prince? No Kaoru Genji appears in front of me to keep me in Uji in this world. How crazy I used to be! What trivial and trifling things I used to have in my mind! I think so from the bottom of my heart, but the regret and remorse do not lead me to truly embrace this practical life.

Trees In the Town

 

Virtual Kako County Saigoku 33 Kannon Pilgrimage #11

 

     Although the pilgrimage was established relatively recently in the Taisho Era (1912-1926), all records of the 11th station have completely vanished, leaving its location and identity a mystery.  Given its location between the 10th and 12th stations, it may have been a small roadside chapel or a privately owned statue that disappeared during modern urban development.

 

Virtual Kako County Saigoku 33 Kannon Pilgrimage #12 Joraku-ji Temple

     Joraku-ji Temple is said to have been founded in 645 by the legendary hermit Hodo. What does the legend imply?

A Turning Point in East Asia (642–676)

     The year 642 marked a shift toward the restructuring of East Asia, culminating in Silla’s unification of the Korean Peninsula in 676. In 642, King Uija (599–660) of Baekje invaded Silla, capturing over 40 fortresses and killing the daughter and son-in-law of Kim Chun-chu (603–661), the future King of Silla.

     Domestically, King Uija established an autocratic regime, purging political opponents to solidify his grip. This concentration of power was mirrored across the region: Yeon Gaesomun (d. 666) seized power in a coup in Goguryeo, while in Japan, Soga Emishi (586–645) and his son Iruka (d. 645) tightened their control following the death of Emperor Jomei (593–641) and the ascension of Empress Kogyoku (594–661).

The Exile’s Persona: From "Field" to "Valley"

     Just as Sakanoue no Tamuramaro (758–811) was invoked as a symbolic founder of temples in the Tohoku region, "Hermit Hodo" served a specific purpose in Eastern Harima.

     During the mid-7th century, high-ranking Baekje nobles fleeing King Uija’s purges likely sought refuge in the Japanese archipelago. Some of these exiles settled in Eastern Harima, moving from the open "Fields" (flat lands) like Kusuhara (Camphor Field) into the deeper, oak-filled "Valleys" like Kashidani (Oak Valley) to reclaim the land. For these immigrant communities, Hodo—a legendary hermit said to have traveled from India through Tang China and Baekje—provided the perfect founding "persona," linking their local religious sites to a prestigious continental lineage of Buddhism.  For your information, Hodo, who is supposed to have originally borne the Sanskrit name Dharmapatha, might have been called Puap-dauh in China, Papp-do in Korea, and Papotau or Fafatau when he arrived in Japan.

     In the late Kamakura period, it was revived by the prominent Buddhist monk Monkan (1278–1357), and a thirteen-story stone pagoda was erected within its precincts in 1325.

     Monkan is believed to have been born into the Shinto priest family of Hioka Shrine, which is believed to have been founded in 730. Returning to his hometown in Harima Province around 1303–1306 as a young monk in his late twenties, he became a leading figure of the Shingon-Ritsu sect in the region. At his core, Monkan was a Ritsu monk dedicated to public salvation, directing major civil engineering and reclamation projects:

     Cultivation of Takokusa: Monkan initiated a land reclamation project in what was then the wasteland of Takogusa Kita-mura. He expanded cultivation southeastward along the Kumogawa River, covering the area of present-day Takokusa (Inami Town, Kako District). This effort was sustained by his successors after his death, culminating in the major expansion of the Tenma O-ike Pond at the end of the 14th century (a reservoir originally constructed in 675).

     The Gokai Irrigation System: To combat the chronic droughts of eastern Harima, medieval expansion and renovation were executed on the Gokai Irrigation System. This monumental project expanded its beneficiary area from 200 hectares to 700 hectares, serving as the foundational source of regional wealth for centuries.

     Monkan also possessed a brilliant political mind. By constructing the East Harima Showa-era Stone Pagodas and dedicating them to the Daikaku-ji imperial lineage, he secured the patronage of the era’s most powerful figures, including Emperor Go-Uda (1267–1324) and Crown Prince Takaharu (later Emperor Go-Daigo, 1288–1339).

     However, building such massive upstream irrigation systems was a double-edged sword, as it threatened the water supply of downstream areas. Monkan and his followers in upper eastern Harima became staunch supporters of the Southern Court, and their descendants frequently clashed over water rights with coastal communities—conflicts that persisted well into the Edo period. This perpetual tension over vital water resources may have provoked the coastal populace to organize into self-defense networks, ultimately contributing to the formation of the medieval Ikketsushu (united local leagues) along the Kakogawa river basin and coastal areas.

     The Kako County Saigoku 33 Kannon Pilgrimage might have been established in the 20th century to finally overcome the centuries-long conflicts over water rights.

Address: Ono-1762 Kakogawacho, Kakogawa, Hyogo 675-0061

Phone: 079-424-5882

Hioka Shrine

Address: Ono-1755 Kakogawacho, Kakogawa, Hyogo 675-0061

Phone: 079-422-7646

Tenma O-Pond

Address: Rokubuichi, Inami, Kako District, Hyogo 675-1112

Trees In the Town

 

Sarashina Diary: Retold in the present tense (6)

 

I have acquaintances, but I have not communicated with them since I moved to Nishiyama, which is far from the town. One of them has a chance to send a message to me and asks how I am. I am surprised by the message, feeling the heavy weight of my isolation:

Besides you, who remembers me

And calls upon my name?

In this mountain village, where silver grasses

Are visited only by the autumn wind.

[Editor's Note: At this time (1039), the author is 32 years old, entering a crucial turning point in her life. Meanwhile, in the Imperial Court, the Empress, Fujiwara Genshi (1016-1039), died September 19th, 1039, and her husband, Emperor Go-Suzaku (1009-1045), married Fujiwara Seishi (1014-1068), on December 9th in the same year.]

In October, our family moves to the town. My mother becomes a nun. Although she lives in the same house, she shuts herself up in a separate room. My father treats me rather as a householder. I feel a suffocating helplessness to see him shunning all society and living as if he hid himself in the dark shadows.

Princess Yushi (1038–1105), the first daughter of Fujiwara Genshi (1016–1039) and the third daughter of Emperor Go-Suzaku (1009–1045), lives in the residence of her grandfather, Fujiwara Yorimichi (992–1074). Her ladies-in-waiting hear about me through my distant relative, and they summon me to the residence, saying it is better to serve the princess than to pass idle, helpless days at home.

My old-fashioned parents think that court life must be highly unpleasant, and they have kept me at home. However, others say, "People nowadays serve as ladies-in-waiting at court, and fortunate opportunities naturally come to them. Why not let her try it?" Thus, my parents reluctantly send me to the residence.

I go to the residence for a single night as a trial. I am dressed in an eight-layered robe of deep aster-colored silk, displaying a gradual contrast of shades, and over it, I wear an outer gown of deep red.

My mind has been absorbed in romances, and I have few relatives to socialize with. Always remaining in the shadow of my antiquated parents, I have been accustomed to staying indoors, looking only at the moon and flowers. Therefore, when I leave home, I feel as if I am no longer myself, nor am I in the real world. I leave the residence at daybreak.

I have often fancied in my peripheral mind that I would hear more interesting things for my heart's consolation than living a settled life on the periphery. In reality, however, I feel awkward in the residence in everything I do, and I feel utterly out of place and disheartened by the reality—yet there is no use in complaining.

In December, I go to the residence again. I am given my own room and am to stay there for several days. Sometimes, I visit the princess’s quarters for night duty. On those nights, surrounded by strangers, I can hardly sleep; I feel deeply uncomfortable and spend the night hyper-aware of others, sobbing silently. I leave the quarters well before dawn.

All day long, my mind returns to my father, who is old and frail. He relies on me entirely, having spent his days face to face with me, and I miss him with constant anxiety. I remember, with profound grief, my motherless nieces whom I alone have raised; they would sleep right beside me at night, one on either side.

I pass my days in a state of restless distraction. I feel as though others were constantly spying on me, and I am utterly ill at ease.

After ten days or so, I get leave to return home. My father and mother have been waiting for me, keeping a cozy fire in the brazier. Seeing me step down from my carriage, they say, "When you were here with us, we always had guests, and the house was filled with servants. These days, however, not a single voice is heard, and no one is seen outside the gate. We are so terribly lonely. What will become of us if you leave us to pass our days like this?" It is pitiful to see them weep as they speak.

The next morning, they sit before me and say, "Now that you are here, the house is lively again with so many people coming and going." Their words sound sorrowful to my ears.

“What kind of radiance could I possibly possess?” I murmur, my eyes welling with tears. I continue, “What kind of radiance could my parents possibly possess?” “What kind of radiance could a career life possibly possess?” The tears continue.

It is said to be notoriously difficult even for an elite ascetic to dream of their previous life. Yet, there I was, in such an uncertain state of mind, undecided about which course of life I should take, actually having just such a dream. In the dream, I am in front of the altar at Kiyomizu-dera Temple, and a man who appears to be the head priest comes out and says to me, "You were once a monk of this temple. You are born into a higher-ranking family by virtue of carving many Buddhist statues as a Buddhist artist. The seventeen-foot-tall Buddha statue enshrined on the eastern side of the temple is your work. While you were covering it with gold leaf, you died."

"Oh, how regrettable!" I say. "Then, I will apply the gold leaf to the statue for him."

The priest replies, "Because you died, another man applied the gold leaf, and others performed the consecration ceremony."

After having this dream, I think, "If I worship at Kiyomizu-dera Temple with all my heart, something good will naturally happen by virtue of my prayers at the temple in my previous life." Dismissing it as nonsense, I never visit Kiyomizu-dera Temple and let the matter drop.

The Imperial Court holds the annual ceremony of reciting the names of the Three Thousand Buddhas in its Inner Palace from December 19th to 21st. After this ceremony, noble families hold their personal annual ceremonies in their residences. On December 25th, 1039, when Princess Yushi (1038–1105) holds her personal ceremony, I am invited. I go to her residence, thinking, "Just for one night."

About forty ladies-in-waiting are gathered there, beautifully attired in layers of white inner robes beneath identical, flowing outer robes of deep-red silk. As for me, I merely sit behind my introducer, completely lost and hidden in the shadows of those prominent ladies. Then, I slip away and leave before daybreak.

Heaps of snow lie scattered. The moon shines brightly and chillingly at dawn. The moonlight dimly illuminates the sleeves of my deep-red silk robe, which look as if they are wet with tears. On my way home:

The passing year draws to a close,

The fading night melts into dawn,

The moonlight on my sleeve is fleeting,

As brief as my own passing life.

Trees In the Town

 

Virtual Kako County Saigoku 33 Kannon Pilgrimage #11

 

     Although the pilgrimage was established relatively recently in the Taisho Era (1912-1926), all records of the 11th station have completely vanished, leaving its location and identity a mystery.  Given its location between the 10th and 12th stations, it may have been a small roadside chapel or a privately owned statue that disappeared during modern urban development.

Trees In the Town

 

Sarashina Diary: Retold in the present tense (5)

 

In August, I go to Koryu-ji temple at Uzumasa to shut myself up for days. I come upon two men's palanquins stopping in the road from Ichijo. They must be waiting for someone to catch up with them. When I pass by, they send an attendant with the first half of a tanka poem:

On our way to view the blossoms, we chance to see you—

A flower blooming along the path.

I am told that it would be awkward not to reply wittily with the latter half of the poem:

The flower you see is but one of thousands of wild autumn plants,

Ripening in the fields of this eighth month.

Ignoring them, I stay in the temple for seven days. I think of nothing but the route to the East and stop being lost in romantic fantasies. I pray to the Buddha, saying, "Let us meet again peacefully." I wish the Buddha should pity and grant my prayer.

It is winter. It rains all day. In the night, winds blow terribly and scatter the clouds. The winds clear the sky, and the moon becomes exquisitely bright. Seeing the pampas grasses near the house blown down by the heavy winds, I remember my sad situation:

Dead stalks of pampas grass,

Withered in midwinter depths,

Must long for the autumn days

Before the tempest blew them down.

A messenger arrives from the East. My father, Sugawara Takasue (972–?), writes:

"I made official visits to the shrines in Hitachi Province as the Governor. On my way, I passed a wide field with a beautiful river running through it. I found a beautiful grove, wishing I could show it to you. I asked the name of the grove. 'The Grove of Longing After Children' was the answer. Compared with my situation, I felt extremely sad. Alighting from my horse, I stood there for hours. I felt like this:"

Has the Grove of Longing After Children

Left its own behind, to grieve as I do?

Looking upon it,

I am filled with sorrow.

To say something in return will be sadder than to read that letter, but I reply:

Hearing how you yearn for me,

I feel the deep heartbreak

Of my father journeying East,

Leaving his child behind.

Thus, I spend days doing nothing. Why do I not think of making pilgrimages? It is because my mother is a person of an extremely antiquated mind, and she says, "Oh, it is simply terrifying to even think of visiting Hase-dera Temple in Hatsuse! What on earth would you do if you were ambushed by ruthless outlaws at Narasaka Hill? And Ishiyama-dera Temple? Heaven forbid! Crossing the Sekiyama Pass to Lake Biwa is utterly death-defying! As for Mount Kurama, it is frighteningly steep, as you well know. It would be absolute madness to take a fragile thing like you to such places! You shall not go anywhere until your father returns."

As my mother speaks this way and treats me like a nuisance, I can only go to and stay at Kiyomizu-dera Temple. However childish it might look to others, my habits of romantic indulgence are not dead yet, and I cannot fix my mind on religious thoughts as I am supposed to. It is in the equinoctial week, and there is a great tumult. It is so noisy that I am even afraid of it. When I doze off, I dream that a priest in blue garments with a loose brocade hood and brocade shoes is in the enclosure before the altar. He seems to be the intendant of the temple and says, "You are occupied with vain thoughts without knowing the unhappiness of your future," speaking indignantly before he goes behind the curtain. I awake startled, yet neither tell anyone what I have dreamt, nor think about it much.

My mother is sorry for not bringing me to Hase-dera Temple. Instead, she has a bronze mirror, one foot in diameter, cast and makes a monk take it for us to Hase-dera Temple in Hatsuse. Mother tells the monk to spend two or three days in the temple, especially praying that a dream might be vouchsafed about my future state. For that period, I am made to observe religious purity, abstaining from meat.

The monk comes back to tell the following:

"I was reluctant to return without having even a dream. I was afraid I could report nothing without a dream. After bowing many times and performing religious services, I went to sleep. There came out from behind the curtain a graceful, holy lady in beautiful garments. She, taking up the offered mirror, asked me if any letter was affixed to the mirror. I answered in the most respectful manner, 'There was no letter. I was told only to offer the mirror.' 'Strange!' she said. 'A letter is to be added. Look at what is mirrored here. It is a pity to see the image.' She wept bitterly. I saw the images of people turning over in lamentation. 'To see the images makes me sad, but to look at this.' She showed me another image. There, the bamboo screens were fresh green and many-coloured garments were revealed below the lower edges of them. Plum and cherry blossoms were in flower. Nightingales were singing from tree to tree. She said, 'It makes me happy to see the image.' I had such a dream."

I do not even listen to his story, nor question him as to how things appeared in the mirror.

I am not devout, but some people tell me to pray to the Goddess Amaterasu. At first, I used to wonder where she was, and if she was a Shinto Goddess or a Buddha. As I have grown older, I ask someone about her, and she says, "She is a goddess and is in Ise Province. The goddess is also worshipped by the Governor of Kii Province. Above all, she is worshipped at the sacred shrine within the Imperial Palace." I cannot, by any means, visit Ise. How can I bow before the Imperial shrine? I can never be allowed to go there. I have a helpless idea to pray to the celestial light.

A relative of mine becomes a Buddhist nun and enters Sugaku-in Temple. In winter, I send her a tanka poem:

Even my tears arise for your sake,

When I imagine the mountain village

Where the cold winter snowstorms

Will soon be fiercely raging.

She replies:

I seem to see your deep kindness,

As if it comes to find me

Through the dark, tangled thicket

Of the summer plants and leaves.

My father, Sugawara Takasue (972–1040?), who went down to Hitachi Province, comes back at last. He settles down temporarily at Nishiyama (West Hill) to alter the direction of his entry into Kyoto for a luckier omen according to Onmyodo, the Way of Yin and Yang, and we all go there to join him. We are filled with immense joy. As the moon shines brightly at night, we talk all through the night, and I compose:

In contrast to tonight’s pure delight,

How sorrowful was that autumn night,

When I feared our parting was for good,

And I wept in the deep solitude.

At this, my father sheds bitter tears and answers me with a tanka poem:

I once deeply disliked my life,

For my dreams had never come true.

But this joyful reunion today

Makes my fading life feel sweet anew.

My joy is boundless after waiting and waiting for the safe return of my father. Yet, my father says, "When I saw old and weak people leading their worldly lives, I found it ridiculous. Now, it is my turn to be old and to retire." As he says it with no lingering affection for the world, I feel quite helpless.

From our temporary dwelling in Nishiyama, the fields roll out wide and far toward the east. My eyes trace the sweeping crest of the distant eastern mountains, stretching from Mount Hiei in the north down to Mount Inari in the south. Bringing my gaze closer, there is Narabi Hill nearby in the foreground; its pine forest rustles so vividly it feels as if the sound is whispering right by my ear. Nestled between that hill and our dwelling, what are known as “rice fields” cascade up the hillside; the crisp clapping of the bird-scarers echoes from them, casting a lonely yet nostalgic countryside charm over me.