Pondering Ryoanji

Looking back to my trip to Kyoto, one place stands out more than any other- Ryoanji Temple. It isn't the biggest, nor the smallest, so I wondered- what is it about that place that appeals to me so much? 

Ryoanji is most of all known for it's rock garden. Yet there is much more to it than that. A rich and vivid garden, along with a broad temple pond adorn the grounds. Seeing this, we can understand the rock garden in context, disabusing us of misconcieved stereotypes of Zen Buddhism. Just as the Buddha found aeseticism to be merely a way to clear the mind temporarily and not something to take to extremes, so did the Buddhist monks that followed him. 

The rock garden provides a gorgeous opportunity to encounter the concept of negative space. I rank it very highly as being one of the very few examples of minimalism that have captured the public imagination. The joy in simplicity is known as 'wabi-sabi'. In modern times, though, a search for harmony amidst an increasingly busy world has lead to such aesthetics becoming the very embodiment of what modernity stands for, or should I say, seeks for. From crystal-like green-glass skyscrapers to devices like the iPod, 'negative space' is all the rage. Yet for all this, it is worth exploring just why we find it so attractive- why living in such relative opulence to what we had before, would we seek to see less?

One reason, to me is the evolution of mind. We gravitate towards simplicity as we learn more about satisfying, final results. The fact that these Buddhist monks reached so far shows the value of their monastic community, one that emphasised self-knowledge as much as faith. Another is by way of contrast with the relative complexity of daily life. Just as finer foods have become commonplace, even expected, so have better standards of living. Many people are starting to realise that a foundation of serenity helps you to enjoy the otherwise overwhelming stream of impressions that daily life throws our way. By being in harmony, we can find order and meaning in what would otherwise appear as a cacophony of sensation. We yearn for the negative space we need to balance the profusion of impressions around us. Busier than ever, we need more rest.

Yet the negative space itself is best appreciated by beings like ourselves alongside such positive impressions. Hence the gardens or Ryoanji, that have some of the nicest and certainly the most carefully cultivated flowering plants throughout Japan, especially the collection of cherry trees. I was amazed at their colour and perfection, something I've only seen elsewhere at Shinjuku-Gyoen park in Tokyo. I'd never really realised how nice the gardens are, seeing only the minimalist rocks. Yet now I understand that one balances the other, each being a message of the Zen view of life as both simple and vibrant, quiet and relevant, embodying 'Ying' and 'Yang'- though in true Zen style, these are to be experienced rather than merely categorised. Where better to experience them than in a pure land-like garden?

Kamakura

Often known as the 'Kyoto of the East' (well it should be, anyway), this ancient city preserves an incredible amount of temples and shrines from the 'Kamakura Period' when this was the nation's capital.

My favourite place to start here is from the further station, Kita Kamakura. Here you can find more of the sites I. Their original, undisturbed woodland settings, whereas Kamakura itself is more of a modern town, wih both all the conveniences and all the distractions this provides.

I like to take a leisurely stroll through the gardens of Zen Temples. For me such a stroll, with a camera to record whatever I find, is a meditation in itself. The atmosphere of such places draws me to them time and time again (they also make for a great place to go with visiting friends, not just for the scerery, but also it's peaceful affect on conversation).

Often my favourite findings are the local cats, who tend to live in the temples and often have a personality all of their own!

This is just a note for now... more later!

The Mysterious Rocks of Ryoan-ji

From Kinkakuji, I made my meandering to the equally famous, but much more indecipherable Ryoanji. If you know next to nothing about Japan or Zen, it may still appear evocative to you of everything they stand for. Like Hokusai's famous 'Great Wave' (actually titled, Under a Wave off Kanagawa'), it has come to be seen as athe very symbol of Zen teachings and perhaps their most successful depiction- a depiction of something indescribable, though perhaps hinted at through riddle-like koans that open the mind up to greater mysteries. In fact the rock garden that is the certerpiece here embodies it's own impossibilities and puzzles. A garden of 15 rocks, carefully designed so that only 14 can ever be seen at once. If all 15 offer a depiction of the universe as a whiole, we as presumably unenlightened beings can never yet see the picture as an uninterupted whole.

The sheer power of this garden is it's simplicity. Even now, thousands from around the world visit every day- not for obvious reasons like the golden splendours of Kinkakuji- but to sit and look at a bunch of rocks! People sit for quite a while, even taking to their friends or loved ones about them, happy to be there. Very old rocks, that have stood in their carefully raked garden of pebbles for centuries- yet rocks all the same. It's popularity alone is testament to it's achivement of the paradoxical. Of course, in the world of religion such things are not at all uncommon. Sacred rocks are known of all over the world, whether they be walls, tombs, fallen meteors or symbolic embodiments of gods. Yet these rocks aren't even seen to be sacred and their visitors are often people looking for something beyond such beliefs.

So here they stand, their meaning a message in their arrangement. For sure, they are evocatively beautiful, elegantly arranged. Like any great work of art, it is what it says to you that matters, not to me or anyone else. Whatever their power, they draw me to them time and time again, sitting, looking, pondering,attempting to go beyond my usual thought to be at one with their message. They are simply enjoyable to look at and that is a pleasure in itself.Who knows, perhaps the whole thing is one big Zen joke and there really is no meaning! If any literal one is intended, it is surely lost in the mists of time; yet the impression, as with so much from the culture of Zen, is unmistakably refreshing and immediate.

Around the rock garden are expansive, green and beautiful park-like gardens. Some of the most incredible cherry blossoms in Japan have been planted here over the years and it shows- the colours were magnificent, especially in the close-to setting sun that slowly sank behind them.

Kinkaku-ji, The Golden Pavilion

Kinkaku-ji and Ryoan-ji; when it comes to Japanese temples, you can't find much more striking designs than these two masterpieces, located, along with Shokoku-ji, on the northern outskirts of the city. Kinkakuji, located by Kinkaku-ji Cho, Kita-Ku, is for many the default image of Kyoto, it's golden form dwelling serenely amongst the surrounding gardens. Although the real name of the temple is Rukuon-ji ('Temple of the Deer Park), it is the popular name, 'Temple of the Golden Pavilion' which has stuck. The Phoenix sitting atop it (as over it's 'sister temple', Ginkakuji) is really the icing on a very attractive cake and a hint at one of the most enchanting features of the gardens- wild birds make their appearance, enhancing the sense of stillness with their graceful behaviour and cries. Seeing this heron land on a small island was like a scene from a Chinese plate come to life- perfect, timeless, yet so very real, as if I was seeing nature as it should be seen.

Asking people for their recommendations in Kyoto made me find that there seems to be a bit of a fashion for people to say that this isn't their favourite- after all, Kinkakuji gets all the attention and who wants to appear uncouth in adding to it? Yet even a casual visitor will see why it gets so much praise. In short, this is a masterpiece of marrying artistic, man-made designs with nature and one which the many centuries of civilisation that have come and gone since it's inception has come no-where near matching. As in so many locations in Kyoto, you may well be seeing something made in the past, but you have a deep sense that it will last far further into the future than most of the buildings existing around us every day.

The shiny, delicate gold structure stands before a large pond. On a clear day, reflections make it into the waters, stretching out like golden sunlight and into the ripples. Around it are various Japanese trees, some of them bearing blossoms, others hanging their branches over the waters, catching the passing reflections. To truly appreciate the garden, you need to remember that it is a form of living art, animated by nature, showing appreciation for her delicate beauty. As the seasons change, so do the colours and moods, something no painter or graphic designer has yet managed since (though perhaps the seasonally-changing colours on my Playstation 3's home screen is a nod to such possibilities in the digital realm). A garden like Kinkauji is a dream come to life, a taste of pure and heavenly lands here on the Earth; a search for perfection that has managed to find some taste of it. This, of course was the whole idea, it representing a 'pure land', in which the path to enlightenment might be so much easier to find. What more could you ask for, more gardens, perhaps? Well, they are there to be seen!

As you follow the regular route around you can see why this Disneyland of spirituality has survived and stayed popular so long. Another, larger pond awaits you, the Kyokoji pond, with it's still waters reflecting various buildings and unusual rock formations. There is also both the ritual teahouse, the Sekkatei, or 'favourable sunset teahouse', as it apparently gives a wonderful view of the setting sun reflected off the golden centerpiece (which unfortunately, due to early closing times, we can perhaps never be around for) and one for visitors, which as per usual I was too late to go to, for a nice cup of matcha; frothy, creamy, whipped green tea, as different from that found in vending-machine bottles here as real ale is from a can of lager.