Chapter 6 Pilgrimage Day 23

Diary of the White Bush Clover

Day 23 (28 October) Odawara to Hiratsuka

In the morning the youngest daughter came back from a school trip and we all heard her story. Her manner was polite and she was also pretty. After breakfast I left the house. Today I planned to go to Hiratsuka. The distance was not far. I walked along Route 1 a little while and then I remembered that I had forgotten my umbrella. I phoned them. The daughter brought it to me by bicycle. I thought I might still need an umbrella sometime.

Suddenly an ambulance went past me and stopped just ahead. I hurried there and looked. An old woman about eighty years old had fallen down unconscious. She might have been walking alone through the town and had no relations nearby. Soon people gathered but no one knew her. She was carried by stretcher into the ambulance. We never know what will happen to us. It reminded me of the expression, shogyo mujo, all is vanity. I prayed for her to recover.

Around Kōzu the sea is nearby. I could see big white waves on my right, which called me to the seashore, so I took the road to the coast. The waves were still very high because of the typhoon yesterday. They came toward me, surging up and down and crashing into each other. I gazed at the scenery for a while because I love the waves.

When I looked at the horizon I saw a ship. It quickly went below the horizon but it was still floating. I suddenly realized that I could not see the ship because the earth is round. Anyone standing on the shore could see the horizon but could not see beyond the horizon. No one could see that far even if that person was rich or famous. In that way everyone is equal. I suddenly understood the fundamental condition of human life. This insight was satori, a spiritual awakening for me. Up to the horizon is in this world but beyond the horizon is Buddha’s realm. Our spiritual practice has a purpose but when we reach that goal we find another one beyond that. We never reach the final destination.

From Ninomiya I walked to Ōiso. Long ago, Yoshida, the prime minister of Japan, lived in this town and built the road to Tōkyō. I arrived at Jyogyo-ji in Hiratsuka at 4 o’clock. It was already getting dark. This was the last temple I would stay in on this journey. I greeted the priest and left the notebook in front of the temple’s statue of Buddha. I stayed in the Yoshida family’s house that night. They had been in Nara before so I thought of them with affection. The priest’s wife made dinner for me and I gratefully ate the meal.