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.

Chapter 6 Pilgrimage Day 15

Diary of the White Bush Clover

Day 15 (20 October) Hamamatsu to Osugachu

At half past 5 o’clock in the morning the prayers had already started in the main room of the temple. The priest and his son said prayers for the people whose names were written in my notebook and for my journey so I thanked them. Half a month had passed since the beginning of my pilgrimage. The end of autumn had come and I felt the cold.

I had breakfast with the priest’s family. I tried to give the priest an offering but he gave it back to me and said, “Money is very important for your journey so it is better that you keep it.” He did not speak much but he was filled with love. I was deeply impressed by him. He worried about where I would go next so he called and arranged for me to call on a family he knew and gave me a map with directions to their house. The priest told the Suzuki family I would visit them at noon and asked them to please prepare lunch.

I took a little bit of a roundabout way because I wanted to see Fuji-san from Enshunada, a beautiful viewpoint. I walked toward Iwata, hoping to reach the Suziki house by noon. At 9:45 I crossed the Tendu-gawa. The river was so wide I could not see the end of the bridge. It took me fifteen minutes to walk across the bridge on the pedestrian walkway. In the middle I stopped and looked down. The water was dark blue and clear. The river was very low with many rapids because there was a dam upstream.

A little before noon I was still walking. I searched for the fire lookout tower in the town but I could not find it. Finally I found the Suzuki house. It was already 1 o’clock. They had prepared a big lunch and waited one hour for me even though they did not know me. I thought it was too much for me alone but I was walking for Buddha so I thanked them and ate. Usually I only had a quick lunch of pastry but today’s lunch was very delicious and I thought my stomach must be very surprised. After I rested for half an hour the kind family saw me off and I continued walking.

There was not much traffic in the city so I could walk easily. On both sides of the river there was a windbreak of pine trees but I could still feel the wind blowing through the trees. Maybe in places like this the heroic Jirocho family, who had helped the poor people, would walk with their shoulders thrust forward, breaking the wind. The road continued, with golden stalks of rice bending their heads on either side. I could see people working in the fields far away, cutting the rice.

A small stone Jizō, the deity who helps children, stood on the side of the road wearing a red baby bib. The name of an eight-year-old girl was carved on this Jizō and there were fresh flowers in front of the statue. Perhaps she had died in a traffic accident. I prayed for her in front of the Jizō.

I did not have a reservation for a ryokan that night and the houses were becoming fewer and farther apart. The sun was already setting and the lights were coming on. I stopped at one house and asked if there was a ryokan nearby. They said there was one in the next town, Yaojin. I had to walk another half hour. I was already tired so I tried to cheer myself up. At last I arrived at the ryokan. I was exhausted. This hotel looked so old I thought perhaps a servant would come with a bucket of water to wash my feet, the way they did in ancient times when people traveled by foot wearing waraji, straw sandals.

I was an unexpected customer but they were very polite and took me to a room. I spoke with the owner of the ryokan, a lady who was nearly seventy years old, telling her about my journey. She told me the story of her son. Before the Great Pacific War, when he was eighteen, he volunteered to go to Manchuria to cultivate the land, which was controlled by the Japanese government at that time. While he was there the war started and he was drafted into the army. He was sent to Siberia and died there. She was crying because she had not been able to take care of her son. Her old face full of sorrow, she said, “His friend told me the reason he might have died in the war. Every night the soldiers drew straws to see who would go out to steal food. One night my son was chosen to go out and did not return so perhaps he was killed by a farmer in the area. The government sent me a white box but there were no bones inside so no one knew how or where he died. He was an unfortunate boy.”

She said, “Please forgive me. It’s very noisy in the next room, but I want to talk to you about my son and my life.” A party was going on but the woman talked until midnight. I wanted to listen to her story all night long.

I said to her, “Your son died for the lives of his fellow soldiers. His sacrifice made him bosatsu, a servant of life. I am sure he is with Buddha now.” I made up a poem for mothers who lost their son in the war and recited it for her.

sen’yu no

kate o motomete

senjyo ni

chirishi sonomi wa

bosatsu narubeshi

In the war

you tried to find food

for your friends

and died on the battleground.

You are a servant of life.

The old woman was very happy. Before, she thought her son’s death had no meaning but now she could think of his death in a new light. Because he died for someone else he was godly. “Thank you very much,” she said.

I too felt happy. I had a wonderful experience in this ryokan.