Aki Meguri Shikoku Logbook:

November 12th, 2001 (Monday):
Temples 84, 85 and 86

Note: In the original Aki Meguri pages, the Shikoku stage had no journal entries.  Rather, my thoughts and feelings were incorporated into the "Logbook," so you won't find separate journal entries here, as in the Old Tokaido and Yamato stages.

Now on to the mindful trivia.

It was an amazing day of great weather, beautiful temples, and an encounter with numerous legends of Japan's past.

I took the train out to Yashima station.  Yashima means "Roof Island," and this view (from near the next temple, Number 85) shows why: it's a long, flat plateau, shaped like a roof.

Not only is there a beautiful temple perched on this island, but this was also the site of a major battle in the war between the Heike and the Genji (also called the Taira and the Minamoto).  It's a long story, as it was a long war.  But it basically had to do with a struggle for power--specifically, the "power behind the throne," the right to be advisors to the Emperor.  At the end of the struggles, the Minamoto family became Japan's first shoguns, ushering in the Kamakura period.

One source lists three major battles of this war: the battle at Ichi-no-tani (2/7/1184), the naval battle at Dan-no-ura (3/24/1185), and between the two, the battle at Yashima (2/18/1185).  It was not just on the "roof" of the island, but on the surrounding plains as well (the island is nearly attached to the main part of Shikoku), in fact almost all the way to the next temple.

Anyway, here's the temple:

Beautifully situated on the plateau, this temple includes a museum of the battle--which was closed, like most Japanese museums are on Mondays.  But there were a few other things on this hill to enjoy.

Like the remarkably stylish cable-car station.  It's falling apart, badly in need of repairs and paint.  But the 30's deco made me homesick for L.A. architecture.  After you walk 5 or 10 minutes from Yashima station, you take the cable car up to here.  From the upper end of the cable car, it's almost a kilometer to the temple's front gate.

One is a Words and Pictures of the Shichifukujin, Japan's "Seven Lucky Gods."  These nearly-life-sized statues were in the temple's courtyard.

The other is a Words and Pictures of the Shitenno, the Four Heavenly Kings who guard the Buddha and the Four Directions.  They were in a gate between the Niomon and the hondo.

This temple's name comes from a legend that the Daishi planted eight roasted chestnuts--cooked, that is, dead--before he went to China.  When he returned there were eight chestnut trees!  But what man worthy of deification couldn't bring the dead to life?  He knew it would happen, else why would he have planted them?  Resurrection.

Every temple has a first name and a last name.  The first name is the "mountain name," or Sango.  A temple will have a "X-san" designation even if it's not on a mountain.  The temple's last name is the one we usually use, the "temple name" or Jigo.  This temple's Sango is "Gokenzan," or Five Sword Mountain.  That's because there are five prominences on the mountain top (only four are visible in this view), like five swords thrusting up from the peak.

Supposedly the Daishi did a ritual and afterward had a vision of five swords dancing above the mountain.  But we know, don't we, that temples are often built (worldwide) on sites of natural significance.  To my untrained eye, it appears that there was a volcano here; these peaks are what remains of the "plug," with the softer sides of the mountain worn away.  Whatever the genesis, it's a notable feature.  As I traveled around to the next temple, the peaks turned into five, and then reduced to three, depending on the point of view.  But they were always visible in some form, from three different sides.  They have probably been important as long as people have been here.

In fact, there's a strong Shinto presence here.  There is a torii at the bottom of the mountain, and others at various places closer to the top.  And the honden of a shrine--as you can see in this picture--sits corner-to-corner (left) with the hondo of the temple (right).  The Bishop says this is another shrine to the delightful Ganesha, the elephant-headed god from India, called in Japan Shoden or Kangiten.

Next stop--actually, six train stops away--

There are a couple of good stories to go with this place.

One is that the name has been changed--at least in writing.  The characters now used to write "Shido" are translated "the fulfillment of a wish."  Isn't that nice?  But the original characters meant something like "The Bridge to Death."  Ooo.  It seems Emma-O, the king of Hell we met on October 19th, took a shine to this place.  To make sure it stayed well-maintained, he would occasionally send back a rich man at the time of death, with the charge to rebuild this temple.

There is another story connected to this temple, one of my favorites in Japan.  It is the story of a mother who sacrificed her life for her child--a very Japanese story.  I have reprinted a version of it--with commentary by Steve McCarty--here.  Please read at least the story itself, and meditate for a moment on the power of a mother's love.

Here is the tomb--the very one, honest!--of the mother who gave herself so selflessly in the story.  The lively old man in the stamp office was very kind, and took me out to make sure I found the right tomb.  (His English is quite good, by the way.  He let me struggle along for a few minutes in Japanese before he revealed his skill!)  He also gave my a picture post card of the grave.

One more treat at this temple: It's chrysanthemum season.  Cultivating kiku is a major sport here in Japan, and clubs often display their efforts in public--usually at shrines--in this season.  The seat of (symbolic) power in Japan, the Emperor's office, is referred to as "The Chrysanthemum Throne," so growing them is a kind of patriotic act.  Also, Ruth Benedict in her startling study of the Japanese psyche, The Chrysanthemum and the Sword, said that the typical Japanese man (this was over 50 years ago) was capable of enough sensitivity to appreciate the growing of these gorgeous flowers--and brutal enough to be able to cut off another man's head.  (I once met a girl whose father was retired from the Self Defense Forces.  When I asked her what his hobby was, she said, "Growing kiku."  It was a short affair.)

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