Chapter 6 Pilgrimage Day 4

Diary of the White Bush Clover

Day 4 (9 October) Omihachiman to Hikone

I woke up to the sound of motor boats. Nowadays no one rows a boat to catch fish, I thought. My body felt sore and it was hard to wake up. I washed my face. Looking out the window I could see morning dew covering the beautiful mountainside. With affection I bid farewell to Biwa-ko. I left the hostel, remembering to take the walking stick. I climbed further up to Chomei-ji and prayed to Kannon. Then I started down the stone steps in front of the temple. It was very steep. I noticed that each step had a round hole for the tip of a walking stick. It is like the ups and downs in life, I thought. When things are going well you do not feel you need help. But when things go wrong, you must slow down and realize that you need to draw upon the support of your inner strength.

Using the walking stick I went down more than five hundred steps. I gave the walking stick back to the woman at the shop with a contribution of 100 yen for her kindness. I said, “Thank you. I learned a wonderful lesson from this walking stick.” The bus came and I started to get on but the woman came up to me carrying a package of chopsticks. She said, “These special hashi are to wish you long life. Please use them.” Once more I thanked her. This woman did not want to sell the chopsticks and I did not want to buy them because they were an expression of gratitude between us. I felt very warm inside my heart.

At the end of the bus ride I got off and walked again. There was little traffic in this area because it was far away from the busy road. It looked like an old road. I asked people and they said, yes, it was. The houses were built far apart and the village was quiet. The grass was already withered. I could hear the sound of insects even in the afternoon. Then I walked again. My leg was in better condition now because it had warmed up from the morning’s walk. I had to reach Hikone by evening. It was the longest distance I walked on this journey. I walked, eating sweets. I looked down at my feet and not at the distance I had to go.

Later I walked past a hill. I could see golden rice fields all around and people busily working in the fields with machines. Many years ago rice was harvested by hand. Now the machines were convenient but very expensive. The farmers were working hard and may have seen me only as a hiker with a rucksack. I felt sorry because I was not working hard like them. However in my own way I was doing hard work because I was on a pilgrimage.

A little girl sat on the side of the road. She looked bored. Maybe she was waiting until her parents finished working. An old woman and a girl were working a small area by hand. The woman was so old but she was doing this work usually done by young people. If only I had time I would help them. I went over and spoke to the old woman. She told me, “My son died in the war but the field is still here so I have to reap the rice.”

 “I am walking to pray for the people who died in the war,” I said, “so please tell me your son’s name and I will pray for him tonight at the temple where I will be staying.” She gave me his name and thanked me. It was past noon so I had to hurry. This was the first and the last time I would meet this old woman. I said to her, “Please take care and live long.” After a few minutes I looked back and saw the old woman and the girl waving.

banshu ya

robā no tenaru

inaho kana

End of autumn –

old woman carrying in her arms

sheafs of cut rice.

I had to hurry to Hikone but I got lost because I did not look at the map. There were no shops but I found a few people who were buying fruit and vegetables in front of a farmer’s house. I bought three bananas and asked them how to find the road to Hikone. It was twenty kilometers to Hikone and it was already 2 o’clock. I wondered if I could make it before dark and I wondered how long I could walk.

Eventually I found the railroad track and a train station. I wondered if it was Hikone but no, it was one station before. Until I found the train line I had great energy but when I realized I had to walk more I felt weak. I walked slowly. The sun was setting. There was no bus. I had to go by foot. I walked beside that railroad track for four kilometers.

Finally I arrived at Hikone but I had to walk all the way through the town to the temple. I wanted to cry. I called ahead to say I would arrive that night. The priest at Choei-ji said, “Oh, you’re really coming?” He was wondering if I would come or not.

An hour later I reached the temple at last. I could not speak but only said to Buddha, “I have arrived.” I ate supper and gave thanks for it. I really enjoyed taking a bath. Today’s trip was long and I had lost my way. That day was the longest and fullest day of my entire trip. I felt so thankful for the day’s events and a comfortable end to the day.

I got a call from my family. Their voices were very kind. My daughter said, “Take it easy, you can come back anytime.”

 “It is all right, I am going on,” I replied.

Afterwards I talked about my journey with the priest and his wife. After spending a few days by myself I missed people very much. I felt as if I had been walking in the desert so when I met one person I felt happy.

Chapter 6 Pilgrimage Day 3

Diary of the White Bush Clover

Day 3 (8 October) Moriyama to Omihachiman

I had already paid the ryokan fee, so before the attendants woke I started to walk again. All along the way I kept looking at the triangular shape of one big mountain. In this area the surrounding mountains were low but this mountain stood out, shaped like a mountain made of sand. I liked this mountain. From some places it appeared to be one mountain but in fact there were three peaks, so it was called Mikami-yama, Three Spirits Mountain. I walked along the busy road, looking at these peaks in the clear morning air.

I was hungry because I started without breakfast. In a small shop I drank a bottle of milk. I just stood because when I sat I felt pain in my knee.

Walking on I found a very nice house on the right with a low stone wall. The stone was very old and every stone had a groove running straight across the face. I touched the groove. I could tell it was not carved by anyone but it looked like a design. I asked an old man working beside me, “Is this stone made of lodestone?” It looked like the lines made in old times by iron wheels on the stone pavement. This line is wonderful, I thought, it’s very interesting. The design is very smooth, not sharp. It could not have been made by human hands. This house has precious treasures.

Afterwards I walked and walked but there were no houses. I wanted to ask someone about a ryokan for the night but there was no one around. Someone had told me I could find places to stay if I went to the train station so I hurried there. As far as I could see there were only rice fields, golden colored, the heads bending down. The time was near sunset. The sun would go down soon so I was worried and hurried on.

As I walked through the golden rice fields, a mendicant monk came toward me from the opposite direction. He was powerfully built and walked with long strides. He was wearing a kasa, a wide domed hat made from wheat straw, and black koromo, the robes flapping in the wind. When we passed I caught a glimpse of his bearded face under his kasa. It was an extremely stern face but just in the moment we passed we both smiled a little. We bowed to each other. We moved on and the distance separating us grew and grew. I walked to the east, he walked to the west. We did not know each other but at that moment I felt a very warm Buddhist teaching. That one tiny point in time was magnificent. I thought of the saying, ichi go ichi e, one time, one meeting.

aki ōmi

tabi yuku so to

emi kawashi

Autumn in Ōmi –

crossing paths with a wandering monk,

exchanging little smiles.

After that I arrived at the station. I asked, “Are there any ryokan around here?” They told me the location of one. Standing in front of it I wondered if I should stay there. The sign on the house said it was a ryokan but it looked rather decrepit. I decided I would not stay there. I went back to the station to check the telephone book for another inn. I found one, a youth hostel, and called. They said ōkē. But I was surprised to hear where this yūsu-hosuteru was, twelve kilometers away. I thought it was impossible to walk there this late so I apologized to Buddha and took a bus.

When I got there I found that the hostel was built halfway up the mountain and you had to walk up. As I started climbing up an old lady in a shop called to me. She said, “You’ll need a walking stick but you don’t need to rent it. I’ll give this tsue to you for free.” Even though the road to the hostel was very steep I thought I did not need a walking stick, I could climb by myself, but I accepted her offer. Bending forward I climbed step by step, clasping the walking stick behind my back.

At last I reached the hostel and gave thanks for the day’s trip. I had already walked three days but I still had not walked half way around Biwa-ko and the lake seemed as big as the sea. I felt really tired. I took a bath, massaged my legs and put menthol plasters on all the sore spots on my body. My daughter had put the shippu in my bag and now I really appreciated her thoughtfulness. I went to bed still sore. It was hard to write in my notebook but I knew I would forget if I did not. Sitting beside the window I wrote a letter and an entry in my diary.

I could see the moon reflected on the lake and the lights of Ōtsu bridge. I had seen these lights for the past two nights. I really liked this bridge and I got a little nostalgic when I realized I would not see it again as I journeyed on. Because I had been walking slowly on my pilgrimage, the impressions of the lights on the bridge went much deeper in my heart. Thinking of Ōtsu bridge, I went to bed.

Chapter 6 Pilgrimage Day 1

Diary of the White Bush Clover

Day 1 (6 October 1967) Kyōto to Hama Ōtsu

I had a little rucksack. Inside I had underwear and clothes, a notebook, map, raincoat, toothbrush and toothpaste. That was everything. My sneakers were new when I began to walk to Tōkyō, starting from the Kyōto Palace garden. I could hear the sound of my footsteps on the pebbles. Beside the path a puppy was in trouble. He could not jump down from the bank. I picked him up and set him down. He was glad, jumping all around. When I started walking away he followed me. I ran, the puppy ran. Maybe he is homeless, I thought, but if he is in this garden he will not have a traffic accident. I picked up the puppy and said to him, “I am starting a long journey today. I cannot take you with me so please stay here.” I put him down and ran, trying to escape, but the puppy ran after me. I hid behind a tree and a building and at last he lost me. But I had lost a lot of time.

Route 1 had a lot of traffic. The air was blue with exhaust fumes. A little purple flower was blooming beside the road. I had a sudden realization that flowers do not bloom for people, they just bloom naturally. Some flowers are grown for people to look at them, like the ones in the flower shop, but little flowers growing on the side of the road, people just pass them by. However, I did notice this little wild flower so I picked one blossom and pressed it in my notebook, as if to say I admire your beauty.

After walking awhile I found a famous temple, Geshin-ji. It did not look like an o-tera because it was extremely small. The gate, which I opened easily, was more like the gate to a house. Nobody was around, not a sound. To my right there was a well with long-handled bamboo dippers so I drank some water. It was cold and sweet. I thought about how travelers in ancient times must have drunk this water and refreshed their tired bodies.

At last I arrived at Hama Ōtsu in Shiga-ken, about twenty kilometers from Kyōto, my first stop. I could see Biwa-ko bridge. It looked like a white line drawn across the lake. I headed toward Butsuryu-ji, asking someone for directions to the temple, where I had already received permission to stay. The temple was big and old, built a hundred years ago. The roof was very high, shining in the sunset.

The priest’s wife came to the door smiling and said, “I thought you would be wearing white clothes because of your pilgrimage but you look very modern.” I was wearing slacks, a shirt, sunglasses and a scarf.

In the evening Nitchiei-san, the priest, wrote a poem for me. The priest of Butsuryu-ji was a very scholarly man who used quite difficult kanji. I feel this waka is a comparison of the eternity of nature with the short life of a human. The temple is ancient, founded over a hundred years ago, but I stayed only one night, a very short time. My life like the autumn leaves is transitory.

kaibyaku no

hiraki tamaishi

butsuryu-ji

hitoyo yadorinu

momijiba no aki

At the ancient temple of Butsuryu-ji,

amongst the autumn beauty

of colorful changing leaves,

I stayed

one night.

I went to bed but the trucks on the road nearby made a lot of noise. It was midnight yet many people were still working.