Tag: Zen values (Page 2 of 2)

Zen and Shinto 13 Fusion

April 12, 2016 / John D. / 0 Comments

This and all subsequent photos by Ferdinand Liefert

Look at the picture above. Is it a Zen garden with raked sand and rocks arranged in an enigmatic pattern to represent islands in an ocean of nothingness? Or is it a Shinto circle of ‘iwakura’ (sacred rocks), such as are found along the Inland Sea where ancestral ‘gods’ gather for discussion?

Now let’s take a look at another picture, below, featuring two simple objects. One is a blue happi, adorned with the triple tomoe of Shinto with the kanji for matsuri. It’s typically worn by participants at Shinto festivals, such as the saké-fuelled men who carry the mikoshi (portable shrine. In front of it is container of four parts used for food – rice, soup, pickles and vegetable. It’s characteristic of Zen, used by monks in training when they eat a minimum of nutritious food while doing zazen meditation. Food and festival – meditation and procession. Are the two exhibits complementary or in conflict?

happi and container

The combining of Zen and Shinto here comes surprisingly not from Japan – but Germany. It’s from an intriguing creation by Johann Radeloff which Green Shinto reader Ferdinand Liefert came across in northern Germany. He writes:

I visited a quite unique place called Mitsuko castle, where the artist Heinrich Johann Radeloff created a space, where German and Japanese culture meet. So do Zen and Shinto, there! Heinrich Johann Radeloff has been a professor in Kyoto for many years and his wife is a descendant of the Tokugawa family. In this “castle”, which is more a kind of mansion, they display a variety of Japanese and German cultural goods.

Inside, one can also find gifts from the Daitoku-ji and an installation created by Mr. Radeloff, which is nothing else but a shrine. Outside one can find the German-Japanese-grove, where one can also find a mixture of Japanese and Western cultural influences. E.g., there are torii standing in the grove, also one can find a rock garden or stones from slavic stones.

The website for Schloss Mitsuko, which is in German, reveals that the castle was built in 2001 near Teterow in Mecklenburg. The originator, Johann Radeloff, was born in 1931 and was active in Kyoto from 1964 until around the end of the century. From what he writes, I take it that he practised zazen and was inspired in his art by Japanese aesthetics. The building was once a manor house, and the garden has been converted into a grove is described as a symbiotic combination of Japanese elements with the local landscape and nature. It has since become a cultural exchange centre, housing Japanese-German art exhibitions and concerts.

In his fusion of Zen and Shinto, Radeloff has captured much of the essence of traditional Japanese spirituality. The beauty of form, the harmony with nature, and the treasuring of transience lie at its core. In his conversion of a German mansion into a Zen-Shinto fusion, Radeloff has produced a work that is at once artistic and spiritual. It’s a fitting tribute to the genius of traditional Japan.

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With thanks to Ferdinand Liefert for drawing attention to this project.

Castle Mitsuko, converted from a German manor

Zen hangings DSCI0553 DSCI0563

An unfinished torii, expression of the Japanese aesthetic of mikansei (incompleteness), the suggestion being that the project will be on-going in the search for perfection.

Zen and Shinto 12: Martial Connections

April 2, 2016 / John D. / 0 Comments

A Kendo contest held at Kashihara Jingu

Brian Victoria, author of Zen at War, recently gave a talk in Kyoto about Zen terrorism in the 1930s. Brian is a Soto Zen priest, and his book has been hugely influential – as well as controversial. The book focuses on Japanese militarism from the time of the Meiji Restoration through the Second World War and the post-War period. It describes the influence of state policy on Buddhism in general, and particularly the influence on Zen which eagerly supported the military in its war of aggression. A famous quote is from a leading Zen figure, Harada Daiun Sogaku: “[If ordered to] march: tramp, tramp, or shoot: bang, bang. This is the manifestation of the highest Wisdom [of Enlightenment]. The unity of Zen and war of which I speak extends to the farthest reaches of the holy war.”

While reading about Brian Victoria’s book in an article in Japan Focus, I came across the following passage, which suggests a very conscious effort by Zen leaders to assimilate with Shinto in the Edo Period. It was a time of Kokugaku, when Nativists such as Motoori Norinaga were increasingly influential:

In the Edo period [1600-1867] Zen priests such as Shidō Bunan [1603-1676], Hakuin [1685-1768], and Torei [1721-1792] attempted to promote the unity of Zen and Shinto by emphasizing Shinto’s Zen-like features. While this resulted in the further assimilation of Zen into Japan, it occurred at the same time as the establishment of the power of the emperor system. Ultimately this meant that Zen lost almost all of its independence.

It seems then that the desire of leading Zen practitioners to align themselves with the Shinto cause brought identification with the nationalism of figures like Motoori (a noted China hater), which was exploited by Meiji leaders in formulating a State Shinto ideology aimed at bolstering the authority of the emperor they controlled. Acting on behalf of the nation was seen as an act of glorious self-sacrifice, by which the individual ego was sacrificed for the will of the emperor. It was an ideology to which both Zen and Shinto assented.

It is perhaps not coincidental then that both Zen and Shinto have been closely related to the development of martial arts. Zen was embraced by the warrior class, who took to its concern with mindfulness, self-discipline, and transcending the fear of death. Shinto was similarly allied to martial arts, not surprisingly given that ancient clan kami stood at the forefront of military conflict. The whole Yamato conquest was fuelled after all by notion of divine legitimacy. The swords that samurai treasured were imbued with animist spirit and buried with them.

When one thinks about it, there’s a military precision to the rituals of both Shinto and Zen. Anyone who has stayed overnight at a Zen temple will have noticed the emphasis on obeying orders, marching in line, and correctness in all things. Similarly those who have seen ceremonies at large Shinto shrines will have noticed the orderliness with which priests walk in file, the attention to detail in their rituals, and the hierarchical nature of the ranking.

It seems then that the military connection provides a key to understanding the commonality of Zen and Shinto. For those of us in the peace camp, it gives much to be concerned about. When I spoke to Brian Victoria about this, he suggested that the problem lay in the interaction of State and Religion. Regardless of the leanings of a particular religion, when it becomes allied to the State through seeking patronage and protection, it necessarily becomes a servant of State in times of war. Christianity has done it, Islam has done it, Judaism, Hinduism and Buddhism have done it. Perhaps there then lies the lesson in all this, and perhaps the hermit tradition of Daoism is the perfect response!

Sword skills displayed at Shimogamo Jinja

Zabuton cushions laid out in a Zen temple meditation room. Each monk is allotted one tatami and small cupboard space, similar to life in a barracks.

Obeisance lies at the heart of Shinto – and Zen

Shaved heads and lined up in a straight row…

Priests parading in single file are a common sight at Shinto ceremonies.

Zen and Shinto 9: Mirrors

March 9, 2016 / John D. / 0 Comments

Mirror

Both Shinto and Buddhism in Japan use mirrors as spiritual symbols, and Green Shinto has covered their use in several previous posts (here and here or here or here for instance).

The essential idea, common to both religions, is that mirrors have no ego – they reflect without bias whatever is before them. This is tied in both Zen and Shinto with the idea of original purity. In Shinto you try to recover the purity with which you were born (the purity of another world, one might say). In Zen this takes the form of trying to recover one’s ‘Buddha nature’. “What is the face of your original nature?”runs a well-known koan.

In both religions, then, inner purity is treasured. This can be seen in the words of Morihei Ueshiba, founder of aikido, who drew on different aspects of Japanese spirituality in putting together his thinking about the martial art. The quotations below are taken from The Art of Peace (tr John Stevens).

Watching you, watching me.... Altar mirrors often reflect the spirit of the kami within the person of the onlooker

The Shinto mirror reflects without ego whatever is before it

All things, material and spiritual, originate from one source and are related as if they were one family. The past, present, and future are all contained in the life force… Return to that source and leave behind all self-centred thoughts and petty desires.

You are here for no other reason than to realize your own inner divinity and manifest your inner enlightenment.

To purify yourself you must wash away all external defilement, remove all obstacles from our path, separate yourself from disorder, and abstain from negative thoughts. This will create a radiant state of being. Such purification allows you to return to the very beginning, where all is fresh, bright, and pristine, and you will see once again the world’s scintillating beauty.

Words such as these show why sincerity and purity are so treasured in Japanese culture. In a recent talk in Kyoto on Zen terrorism in the 1930s, author Brian Victoria illustrated how political assassins had been defended by a Zen master because of the ‘purity’ of their heart in wanting the best for the nation. And in the Japanese entertainment world of late there was a big scandal involving a woman called Becky. Why? Because she had a boyfriend and was therefore not as ‘pure’ as everyone thought. Mirror, mirror on the wall – who’s the purest of them all? runs the Japanese version of the old folk tale.

Buddhist altar with mirror

The use of mirrors in Buddhist temples, where they often feature on altars as in Shinto, derives apparently from a fifth-century Indian called Vasubandhu, who came up with the idea of eight levels of consciousness. The top level shines with the light of a wisdom like a great mirror… hence the expression in Buddhism of The Great Wisdom Mirror, or Great Perfect Mirror Wisdom, which reflects the universe as it really is, free of distortion from ego or ignorance.

The Buddhist mirror is thus intended to liberate the mind. Life is an illusion, and one should not be deluded by mere appearances. Look and reflect upon reality! In An Introduction to Zen, p. 48, D.T. Suzuki quotes a Chinese monk as writing:

This body is the Bodhi-tree
The soul is like the mirror bright;
Take heed to keep it always clean,
And let no dust collect upon it.

Later, on p.61, Suzuki comments, ‘Zen often compares the mind to a mirror free of stains. To be simple, therefore, according to Zen, will be to keep this mirror always bright and pure and ready to reflect simply and absolutely whatever comes to it.’

Significantly in both Shinto and Buddhism the mirror is round, and the circle has great symbolic value in its never ending completeness. In ancient China the soul was conceived of as circular, which is why in Japanese mythology Amaterasu chose a round mirror to represent herself.

Zen is also focussed on the circle, and in the Dharma Hall of Zen temples one finds a ceiling painting of a dragon within a circle signifying the universe. And in calligraphy the best-known image is the ensou or circle, interpreted variously as enlightenment, emptiness, strength or the unity of all things. In Buddhism the moon is a symbol of awakening; in Shinto the sun. Both religions find in the roundness of celestial objects a cause for worship, and in the depths of the mirror both find a cause for reflection.

The circular window at Genko-an gives a picture of reality but is suggestive of much more

The circular window at the Zen temple of Genko-an gives a picture of reality but is suggestive of much more

Zen and Shinto 8: Animism and ancestry

March 6, 2016 / John D. / 0 Comments

Rituals at Shinto shrines are for ancestral or animist spirits

Green Shinto has written before of how Shinto stands on the twin pillars of animism and ancestor worship, and how these two different strands are interlocked. (See here for instance.) Zen too cultivates both aspects, though they are not so central to its practice. Perhaps the influence of Shinto brought out the tendencies in the imported religion.

In an essay in Treasury of the True Dharma Eye entitled ‘The sound of the valley stream, the colors of the mountain’, Dogen, the founder of the Soto sect wrote as follows:

The sound of the valley stream, the colors of the valley stream, the sound of the mountain, and the colors of the mountain all reveal truth unstintingly. If you do not prize honor and gain, then the valley stream and the mountain will expound truth to you without stint.

“The sound of the stream, the colour of the mountain…”

Dogen advocated recalling nature internally and searching out ways to live according to the laws of nature. It all sounds very similar to the thinking of Shinto and cold water austerity (misgoi) as a way to immerse oneself in nature and so be true to one’s real self.

Along with the reverence of nature goes reverence for ancestors. In Shinto this begins on a personal level with maintenance of the memory of one’s parents and grandparents, and then extends to the larger anonymous mass of ancestors that goes to make up the whole inherited past of the nation.

Similarly in Zen there is a concern with maintaining the spirit-memory of one’s teachers, both one’s own teacher and the whole line of transmission back to the founder of the sect, and beyond that to the founder of Zen, and beyond that to the historical and other Buddhas. The pamphlet of the subtemple of Ryogen-in at Daitoku-ji states the following about the images of founders Rinzai and the subtemple founder Tokei:

We attend to them as if they are still here, and we hold fast to the first teaching of Zen Buddhism, ‘hoon shatoku’ (display gratitude for the kindness and virtue shown to you).

Attending to ancestral spirits as if they are still here – you could hardly get a better description of kami. Displaying gratitude for what you have received is a key Shinto virtue too. Here then is a strong overlap in the mindsets of Zen and Shinto – unseen spirits in a living universe.

The Zen garden abstracts the quintessence of nature as a means to bring the practitioner closer to enlightenment

Zen and Shinto 7: The Dao of Rock

February 27, 2016 / John D. / 1 Comment

Shinto garden by Shigemori Mirei at Matsuo Taisha

In my investigations into Zen this morning, I had something of an epiphany – or perhaps I should say, an awakening. Both Zen and Shinto share roots in Daoism (Taoism). Zen it has been said is the result of Indian Buddhism colliding with Chinese thought. And Shinto was conceived linguistically as shendao – the Way of the Gods. In other words, the thinking behind the Way of the Tao is fundamental to both. As Alan Watts explained in his very last book (1975), Tao is the Watercourse Way, flowing through the universe like an animating force.

Rock worship at Kamigamo Jinja

So, you may ask, if Zen and Shinto both share this in common, why are they so very different in form and belief? Why is one kami-oriented and particularist, while the other is self-oriented and universal? Why does Shinto look to this life, while Zen dwells on another?

Well, the thought struck me that they may not be as different as they seem. Both are after all based on intuitive understanding and repudiate logic and words. Zen prides itself on a transmission outside the scriptures. Shinto has no scriptures. Both in short treasure non-verbal understanding. ‘He who knows does not speak; he who speaks does not know,’ said Lao-Tzu.

In the Tao Te Ching, it is said the Way can never be known or defined. It can, however, be sensed or experienced, and its principles are observable in Nature. In Zen this is internalised as people seek their true inner nature. In Shinto there is the concept of kannagara, which in effect means following the laws of nature. Both seek the Way, but whereas Zen looks inside, Shinto looks outside. The former goes to the mountains to get closer to self, the latter goes to the mountains for closeness to the kami. And here perhaps is the vital difference between them, for whereas the former is deeply personal, the latter is community oriented. Zen tells you to sit in silence. Shinto encourages communal celebration.

Living rocks at Togakushi Jinja

It may be no coincidence then that both religions treasure rocks. (Landscape architect Shigemori Mirei has done rock gardens for both.) Zen temples are full of rocks in their beloved dry landscape gardens. Shinto shrines are full of sacred rocks, bedecked with shimenawa straw rope or shide paper strips. Rocks in Zen may trigger enlightenment. Rocks in Shinto are sacred vessels into which kami descend. Both religions see them as something more than mere stone – they’re representational, mini-mountains, spirit-bodies. On another level, they’re symbols of silence, of the non-verbal, of the eternal.

Here again Daoism lies at the root. Daoist practitioners went into caves to meditate, and what are caves but hollowed out rock? Significantly, in the Zen garden rocks stand for Mt Horai, the Blessed Isles of the Immortals where Daoist sages live. They may also symbolise moments of time in a vast ocean of raked gravel. And beyond that they symbolise the biggest rock of all, the one on which we’re spinning round the solar system. In this way they’re symbolic of Mother Earth, which, to quote Alan Watts, produced humans in the same way that trees produce apples. We are then the children of rock, because the earth-rock has ‘peopled’ us into existence. When Shinto followers worship rocks, they’re worshipping their ancestors in a very real sense.

It turns out then that in both Zen and Shinto rock is a means to salvation. Don McLean was on the right lines all those years ago. Rock truly will save your mortal soul!

Zen garden by Shigemori Mirei at Zuiho-in, Daitoku-ji with Mt Horai at the far end, from which a peninsula stretches out towards an individual rock, marooned and all at sea.

Zen and Shinto 2: Kennin-ji

January 17, 2016 / John D. / 4 Comments

The entrance gateway to the Founder’s Hall (Kaisando) at Kennin-ji, where Myoan Eisai is buried

My second outing into the world of Zen was a visit to Kennin-ji, oldest Zen temple in Kyoto. It’s located in the heart of Gion, the city’s largest geisha district. As a result it is neighbour to the pleasure quarter with its drinking bars and love hotels. Tourists focus their cameras on the geisha, unaware that within feet are temple treasures and gardens of outstanding beauty.

The mix of worldly and otherworldly pursuits is characteristic of Japanese religion, meaning that the temple teahouses with their spartan furnishings stand alongside geisha teahouses where customers are plied with drinks and flirtation. The ‘floating world’ of Buddhism here merges with that of ‘the water trade‘, and, as the wits have it, paradise can be found on both sides of the temple wall.

Myoan Eisai (1141-1215)

Interestingly, the temple’s founder, Myoan Eisai (1141-1215), was the son of a priest at Kibitsu Jinja in Okayama. Brought up in a Shinto household, he was sent away to study Buddhism at the tender age of three and was later ordained into the Tendai sect on Mt Hiei. As the man who introduced Zen to Japan, it’s surely not without significance that Eisai’s upbringing was shaped by the native tradition and Shinto values. (It was an age when Shinto and Buddhism were seen as complementary and fused into one; Eisai’s contemporary, Kamo no Chomei, writer of Hojoki (1212), dropped out of being a priest at Shimogamo Jinja to become a Buddhist hermit.)

After visiting Kamakura and securing patronage of the shogun, Eisai established Kennin-ji as his base. Although he taught and practised Zen, he remained a Tendai priest to the end of his life. Tendai was a very pragmatic sect and its founder Saicho had encouraged worship of the native kami, particularly Sanno, mountain spirit of Hiei where the head temple of Enryaku-ji stood. The sect had close ties with tutelary guardians and protective shrines (chinju). In the case of Enryaku-ji, it was Hiyoshi Jinja at the foot of the mountain. Eisai carried on the tradition, and the guardian shrine of Kennin-ji was the nearby Ebisu Jinja.

Myojouden, the small Shinto shrine in the eastern part of the temple precincts honouring Raku Daimyojin

Eisai preached that Zen aims to diminish the ego and that it promotes purity, sincerity and unselfishness. It was therefore good for the country and for a harmonious, peaceful society. This is remarkably close to Shinto teaching when you think about it. Rather than the individual ego, Shinto is community oriented and encourages suppression of self for the greater good. For the sake of harmony, selfish impulses should be nullified.

Eisai lies buried in the Founder’s Hall of Kennin-ji, and close to the hall stands a small Shinto shrine, Myoujouden. Legend has it that when Eisai’s mother went to worship at Kibitsu, she had a vision of a bright star and subsequently became pregnant (sound vaguely familiar?). The child turned out to be Eisai, marking him out as special. The kami associated with her vision was Raku Daimyojin, which in syncretic terms equated to the boddhisattva Kokozo Bosatsu, a guardian of learning and knowledge. Consequently the small shrine tends to be popular at exam time with students.

Shrine offerings were well maintained and kept free of birds

Shrine building, housing the spirit of Raku Daimyojin

Once a year there’s a ritual carried out here conducted by one of the Zen monks. Such shrines and activities are not included in the official figures as ‘Shinto’. In other words, there are literally many thousands of temple shrines throughout Japan that are overlooked when people give numbers for ‘shrines’. My feeling is that such syncretic shrines should definitely be included and that the official statistics should be disputed. The true religion of Japan is not neatly divided into Shinto and Buddhism, as people pretend.

Wild boar at the Marishiten Hall with lots of little boar ‘omikuji’

The small Shinto shrine lies on the eastern side of the Zen temple’s grounds. Over in the south-west is a much bigger and thriving complex within the Zenkyo-an subtemple. This is the Marishitendo (Marishiten Hall), dedicated to an imported Indian goddess (originally Marici). Like Japan’s kami, Marishi Sonten was a guardian deity of Hindu/Buddhism who was adopted by practitioners in China. A priest who had made a small statue of her in clay brought it with him as protection in 1327 when he travelled to Kennin-ji as a teacher.

According to the Zen priest I talked to, Marishiten is Queen of Heaven, a particularly powerful deity with a radiance that dazzles those who look upon her like the sun. Consequently she was popular with warriors, who sometimes carried a statue of her in their helmet in order to dazzle the enemy. According to the priest, so powerful was the goddess that she overcame Kennin-ji’s previous spirit of place and took over its role as guardian of Kennin-ji.

Marishiten is known for bringing luck to devotees, and geisha come to make prayers to her. The subtemple is covered in images of wild boar, which is her messenger, and she is depicted as riding on a set of seven golden boars (in India the animals are known for their wiliness as well as their bravery). Japan has three main Marishiten temples – a Nichiren temple in Tokyo and a Shingon temple in Kanazawa in addition to Kennin-ji.

As I talked to the Zen priest in his shop with Marishi-related goods, there was a steady trickle of visitors and people praying at the shrine. Zen has an austere, atheistic image in the West. Here at the shrine of Marishi Sonten in the corner of Kennin-ji, the atmosphere was altogether different. I had a strong feeling that such deities offered a personal means of connection for the worshippers that ‘just sitting’ and looking inwards may not.

The temple is famous for its paintings by Tawaraya Sotatsu of Raijin (thunder deity) and Fujin (wind deity) – personifications of unseen forces i.e. kami.

Raijin, the thunder god, is surrounded by drums on which he bangs. Fujin (wind god) has a billowing scarf full of air as he speeds along below his companion.

The temple is famous for paintings by Tawaraya Sotatsu of Raijin (thunder deity) and Fujin (wind deity) – personifications of unseen forces.

Another of the temple's most prized items is the ceiling painting of twin dragons on the ceiling of the Lecture Hall (Hatto). Most temples have one dragon, but here there are two in the A-Un (Aum) pose of temple and shrine guardians. Shinto too adopted the Chinese dragon as a guardian figure, not only in the form of Ryujin but as spouts for shrine water-basins. throughout

Another of the temple’s most prized items is an early twenty-first century painting of twin dragons on the ceiling of the Lecture Hall (Hatto). Most temples have one dragon, but here there are two in the A-Un pose of temple and shrine guardians (one with mouth open, one with mouth shut to symbolise Aum – Om). Shinto too adopted the Chinese dragon as a guardian figure, not only in the form of the deity Ryujin but as a popular motif for spouts at shrine water-basins.

Omikuji fortune slips, surely borrowed from the native tradition, here in the form of monkeys or tigers (Bishamonten’s familiar)

As at Shinto shrines, good luck charms or protective amulets are also sold at the temple (these are for victory). Did the practice come with Buddhism, or was it already part of the native shamanic tradition?

Zen and Shinto 1: Tofuku-ji

January 10, 2016 / John D. / 7 Comments

The mighty sanmon gate at Tofuku-ji, largest and oldest Zen gate in Japan

The mighty sanmon gate at Tofuku-ji, largest and oldest Zen gate in the whole of Japan

Look at the picture above. It shows the classic arrangement of structures in a Zen monastery, with lotus pond, ceremonial gate and Teaching Hall (Hatto) perfectly aligned on a central axis which runs from south to north. Through the middle of the three openings in the gate is framed the main altar area, inside which a statue of Shaka Nyorai (the historical Buddha) is flanked by two attendants and fronted by four guardians.

It’s all very imposing, very symmetrical and very Chinese. The floors are stone and you keep your shoes on. The deities are represented in physical form. The ideology is conceptual and predicated on an afterlife. It’s all very, very alien to Shinto. And yet, surprise, surprise, to the right of this ceremonial gate is a Shinto shrine, guardian of the spirit of place. In fact the shrine predates the temple, which incorporated it into its design and for some eight hundred years has preserved and cherished it. Does Zen cultivate belief in kami?

In his book about Zen and Japanese Culture, D.T. Suzuki claimed that Zen lay at its core and ascribed to it many well-known aspects such as archery and the tea ceremony. Yet it seems to me that if Zen shaped Japanese culture to some extent, it’s also the case that Shinto shaped Zen to a certain extent. The imported religion derived from Chinese Chan Buddhism, but after its arrival in Japan it took on practices and forms not found in the country of origin.

For the next few months I’ll be investigating the development of Zen in Kyoto, and while doing so I’ll be looking out for the influence of Shinto and the role it’s played in the religion. One interesting item to note is that the Shinto shrines housed in Zen temples usually date from two distinct periods. One, such as here at Tofuku-ji, is from a time before Zen was introduced to Japan in the late twelfth century.

Other shrines were added after the Meiji Restoration (1868), when Shinto was made the state religion and Buddhism fell into disfavour (over 20,000 temples were destroyed). Many temples erected shrines at this time to appease the authorities who considered Buddhism a threat to the emperor-centred regime. (The religion had been a mainstay of the Tokugawa shogunate, for every citizen was required by law to register with their local temple – even Shinto priests!)

As well as temizuya (water basins for purification), Zen temples sell ‘omamori’ protection amulets. Like the traditional Shinto amulets, these are for protection and happiness. There’s a single bead too, part of a rosary which is put together by visiting different temples.

A Zen altar in a subtemple at Tofuku-ji in Kyoto. What has that got to do with Shinto? Well, the New Year offering seen in the picture is a ‘kagami mochi’ usually associated with Shinto and placed on the kamidana. No one is quite sure of the origin, but one theory has to do with honouring the rice spirit. The mirror of course is sacred to Amaterasu as a symbol of her spirit, but the mirror too is commonly found in Buddhist temples as a reminder to keep the soul spotless and free of dust.

The Gosha Jokyuju (aka Gosha Myojinsha) shrine was erected by a powerful member of the Fujiwara family, Tadehira, in 925. It incorporates five tutelary shrines of Tofukuji (Iwashimizu Hachiman, Inari, Kamo, Kasuga and Hiyoshi). Its festival, known as Shoshasai, was once as brilliant as the Gion Festival but is defunct. Now an annual Fire Burning Festival called Hitakisai is held in Nov.

Steps in the south-eastern part of the temple lead up to Gosha Myojinsha.

An avenue of torii at the top of the hill leads to an open-doored shrine

The shrine houses a curiously coloured rock, presumably the ‘goshintai’ (sacred body) of the rough bear spirit, Arakuma. It was donated by the Mizuguchi Organisation of Fukuoka Prefecture

A pair of dosoujin. These fertility symbols would once have acted as territorial markers, but now they rest beneath a tree, evidently cared for still by the Zen monks.

The dry landscape garden by Shigemori Mirei was laid out in 1939 and is acclaimed for combining modern style with traditional sensibility. The rocks here represent the Isles of the Immortals from Chinese mythology, but the simplicity, purity and spiritually charged rocks may well owe something to the native tradition.