A moment of Zen at Otagi Nenbutsu-Ji temple
Peaceful silence welcomed me at the entrance of Otagi Nenbutsu-ji. I paused to acknowledge it's presence and slowly stepped into it, beyond the threshold, quieting my mind and shedding all the weariness from my travels thus far.
Nearby, a low gong reverberated through the air. The trees hummed as if they had absorbed the mystical sound their entire life. Jeremy and I climbed a few steps along a hill and spotted mossy statues sinking into the hillside at a slant. Their faces were weathered and solemn and deeply contemplative. We came to a fork and chose a sloping path to the right that lead us to a small waterfall.
As we descended, we saw row after row of whimsical statues covered in moss. I walked past each narrow row silently, taking my time, trying to memorize each unique, quirky expression. Some were laughing, some were frowning, and some had their eyes closed in contentment.
The pamphlet at the entrance told a long history of misfortune befalling Otagi Nenbutsu-ji. It had been initially constructed in the 770s in a different location but was washed away by a flood. After being rebuilt a few more times over the centuries, it was finally renovated to its current state back in the 1950s by a new head priest named Kocho Nishimura.
We learned that Kocho was responsible for the creation of all the statues, having taught local patrons how to carve their own when they visited. Even though they look old, they were all made between the years 1981 -1991.
As we read more about Otagi, we backtracked to the fork and headed to the left path and came across a giant gong. We rang it timidly, feeling the reverberations in our chest before moving on. Farther down the way, the main one came into view. We sat in silence on a wooden platform listening to a small trickle of water from a fountain and studying all the faces of even more statues. I could have sat there for hours, drawing each figure.
We noticed the presence of more people and decided it was time to go. We had our moment of peace, and it was time to share and let others experience the silence. We exited the temple and turned around and bowed, silently thanking the temple for spiritual healing.
As we left, more and more tourists approached in taxis and buses. We looked at each other, feeling intense pride that we had made the pilgrimage to this peaceful spot on foot.
We walked back the way we came through the quiet neighborhood, feeling a bit lighter. We felt rewarded for our effort and grateful we had not given up on our quest to find a moment of inner peace in Kyoto.
By the time we got back downtown, we were ready to find some late lunch and rest our aching feet. We recounted our morning adventures over a bowl of steaming ramen near our hostel. Though we were tired, we knew we had little time left to enjoy Kyoto. The next morning we would be boarding a train for a day trip to Hikone and then moving on to Osaka. We resolved to take a quick rest in our hostel, then headed back out into the night to explore the narrow streets of Pontocho Alley.