Chapter 6 Pilgrimage Day 16

Diary of the White Bush Clover

Day 16 (21 October) Osugachu to Sagara

Early in the morning the hotel owner came with paper and calligraphy materials and asked me to write the poem I had recited last night. She said, “This poem will be my treasure. If I don’t meet you again my thinking will never change. Now I feel I’ve woken up.”

In my notebook I wrote her son’s name and told her I would pray for him at the temple at Shimizu. She had tears in her eyes.

In the morning it was raining hard. But when it was time to go the weather cleared up. It was strange the way it would rain at night but be fine in the morning. Perhaps Buddha was protecting me. There were many shade trees on either side of the road so it was nice for walking.

I came to a place where steep stone steps led up to a shrine. In front of the steps there was a big stone with the name of the shrine and on the back the name of the stone mason, Hayashi Senjuro. I had met him. He was a relative of my mother. It was a surprise to see his name there. Hayashi Senjuro had been the head of the army during the war so perhaps many soldiers came to pray at this shrine. I rested beside the stone for about twenty minutes. There was nobody there and no cars passed. I wanted to climb the steps but I did not have much time so I looked up at the shrine and clapped my hands three times in the traditional Shinto custom.

I began walking again. It was Saturday and the students were going home. Kindergarten children were walking in a line along the busy road. Many older students rode bicycles. In front of me, two students wearing long-sleeved uniforms walked with short steps. They looked like seventh-grade students. I walked behind them. One of them turned toward me and I smiled. They must have thought I was very strange because they walked faster. I also walked faster. They walked even faster. Finally they both ran away, swinging their heavy school bags. I stopped teasing them but they had already disappeared.

I arrived at Jitougata, which had been my destination on my original schedule. I tried to find a ryokan but this town was too small so I walked on for more than an hour, coming to Sagara at sunset. It was a sad village with few people. I opened the front door of a ryokan and a woman asked, “Are you alone?” She was wearing heavy makeup. I thought this ryokan might be special. I had no partner so I could not stay there.

I left and tried to find another ryokan. I decided that I would take what I could find whether it was good or not. The next ryokan had seen better days. At one time it had been a nice ryokan but now it was falling apart. Not many people would stay there but it was getting dark so it could not be helped. I thought it was better than sleeping outside. The innkeeper was a bit scruffy. He said, “Just stay anywhere you like.” It was a big ryokan but there were no other customers around.

I decided to stay on the second floor because it was a bit cleaner, in the room closest to the front door. The room was damp and there was one dirty zabuton for sitting on the floor. The fusuma were broken and did not close properly. I had to slam them to get them closed. A woman came, carrying a tray of tea for me. Her hair was messy and covered with a towel. Without saying anything she set down the tray. The bath was decrepit, with one weak light. I could see through the window, which meant people could see inside, so I hurried back to the room without taking off my clothes or washing. The futon were dirty so I slept in my clothes and I only put the comforter up to my chest and used my towel near my face. I could not relax.

In the middle of the night there was a big crash. I heard the sound of the front door opening. It sounded like two or three men were coming in. I thought they might be traveling salesmen. I was nervous because the fusuma had no lock. What should I do? There was nothing protecting me. So I took the fusuma off the closet and put it against the fusuma to the hall so no one could open it. Then I sat there quietly listening. I heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs, clunk, clunk. But they went into a different room. I knew I was probably safe but still I could not sleep and I stayed awake all night long.

I had stayed in the ryokan of my choice until now but this broken-down ryokan was not the kind of lodging I would choose. But there were tatami, there were futon and I had food. It was enough for me. If I did not have a place to sleep and food to eat, what would I do? Maybe Buddha was giving me the opportunity to change my desire for luxury. I wrote a haiku about this experience.

yuki kurete

koson no aki no

nami makura

Autumn dusk, difficult to arrive –

a sad village with few people.

Pillowed on the sound of waves.

After putting so much effort into walking all that way, finally darkness came and I could rest. Listening to the sound of the waves was like resting on a zafu, a soft meditation pillow. I felt pillowed on the sound of the waves.