kyoto, part three
After riding for a bit and switching busses, the stop where we disembarked didn't actually bring us all that close to the next sight we were trying to see--Ginkakuji Temple, a Zen temple established in 1482 by the shogun, Ashikaga Yoshimasa. The main hall of the temple complex dates from the mid-1700s:
In the center of the temple gardens is a berm of white sand, with furrows hatched across it and a large mound at one end, representing, respecitvely, the waves of the sea and a mountain, expressed in Zen idiom, some ways analogous to the rock garden at Ryoanji:
The main structure at the site is Ginkakuji (Silver Pavilion) itself, named in parallel to the Golden Pavilion and originally intended to be gilded in silver. Though the gilding never occured, the name nevertheless stuck. The first floor of the pavilion is built in the Shoin style of traditional Japanese residences while the second floor is in a Chinese temple style, with a Chinese phoenix on its roof, dedicated to Kannonbosatu, a goddess of mercy:
The gardens of Ginkakuji were the most exquisite we saw in Kyoto, extending partway up the side of the mountain along a trail overlooking the temple, though it was impossible to capture the sense of space, proportion, texture in a photograph:
As with most Zen gardens, the ground was covered with an attentively cared for variety of mosses:
There was, in fact, an exhibit that showed the different varieties of mosses they cultivate as ground covers.
The garden trail led up the side of the lower part of the mountain, winding through trees, mosses, and rivulets of water, finally affording a view of the temple complex with Kyoto stretched out behind it among the circle of mountains:
On the way up the street to the temple we had passed a number of shops selling various wares: teapots, chopsticks, kiminos, and so on. There were also a number of restaurants, many of which were selling Japanese style ices, rather like Italian water ice, but with the ice more in shavings than grainy and with a spectrum of flavors, including melon and green tea. Since it was such a hot day, we decided to stop on the way back down from the temple and indulge in some ices as a nice cool off.
Afterwards, I found a graceful and charming traditional doll for Claire at one of the nearby shops:
A bus was boarding just as we arrived back down into the city, so we boarded it back towards the train station, stopping on the way, however, to visit Kiyomizudera Temple, the main temple of the Kitahosso sect of Buddhism.
While the temple was first founded in 778 and the earliest existing structure dates from 798, the buildings we saw dately from the 1633 rebuilding or later. As with many of the greatest of the Kyoto temples, it is located on the edge of the city, at the end of a winding street, just as it heads up the side of the mountain, in this case, greeting one with a grand main gate, brightly painted in orange and green:
We didn't want to pay the entrance fee in to the main temple with its broad wooden balcony overlooking a valley below, so we stuck to the entrance grounds and buildings, including this brightly colored, though faded, pagoda, dating from 1633 and which houses an image of the Dainichi Nyorai, the Cosmic Buddha:
The temple also featured a dragon fountain, dating from 1861, which, as I understand it, is a feature borrowed originally from Shintoism and serves as a place for ceremonial washing of the hands and mouth before entering the main temple building:
One of the other features of the Kiyomizudera temple complex--and considerably more creepy--was the hillside of Jizo statues:
If you don't know about Jizo and Jizo statues, Jizo is a "Bosatsu" (or what, in India, would be called a "Bodhisattva"), a being who could attain enlightenment and enter Nirvana but who has chosen to stay behind to help others. The particular objects of Jizo's care are especially aborted, miscarried and stillborn babies, referred to as "mizuko," which means something like "water children" since such fetuses and newborns never had the opportunity to complete their journey from the priomordial waters into full life.
Thus, in death these children remain in a kind of limbo, between death and life, and must be assisted in their journey. This is where the Jizo statues come in, which are supposed to call upon Jizo to ease the passage of the dead child. Most Jizo statues also wear red bibs made by mothers who hope that by offering them to Jizo, they can encourage him to take special care of their children's spirits:
Often one will see food, flowers, toys and so on left for the statues. Statues can be purchased and set up for between $80 and $500, from what I've read.
After running across these statues, I had had enough of temples. So we wandered away, downhill, back towards the main street where we might catch a bus.
(continue to the next post: kyoto, part four)
In the center of the temple gardens is a berm of white sand, with furrows hatched across it and a large mound at one end, representing, respecitvely, the waves of the sea and a mountain, expressed in Zen idiom, some ways analogous to the rock garden at Ryoanji:
The main structure at the site is Ginkakuji (Silver Pavilion) itself, named in parallel to the Golden Pavilion and originally intended to be gilded in silver. Though the gilding never occured, the name nevertheless stuck. The first floor of the pavilion is built in the Shoin style of traditional Japanese residences while the second floor is in a Chinese temple style, with a Chinese phoenix on its roof, dedicated to Kannonbosatu, a goddess of mercy:
The gardens of Ginkakuji were the most exquisite we saw in Kyoto, extending partway up the side of the mountain along a trail overlooking the temple, though it was impossible to capture the sense of space, proportion, texture in a photograph:
As with most Zen gardens, the ground was covered with an attentively cared for variety of mosses:
There was, in fact, an exhibit that showed the different varieties of mosses they cultivate as ground covers.
The garden trail led up the side of the lower part of the mountain, winding through trees, mosses, and rivulets of water, finally affording a view of the temple complex with Kyoto stretched out behind it among the circle of mountains:
On the way up the street to the temple we had passed a number of shops selling various wares: teapots, chopsticks, kiminos, and so on. There were also a number of restaurants, many of which were selling Japanese style ices, rather like Italian water ice, but with the ice more in shavings than grainy and with a spectrum of flavors, including melon and green tea. Since it was such a hot day, we decided to stop on the way back down from the temple and indulge in some ices as a nice cool off.
Afterwards, I found a graceful and charming traditional doll for Claire at one of the nearby shops:
A bus was boarding just as we arrived back down into the city, so we boarded it back towards the train station, stopping on the way, however, to visit Kiyomizudera Temple, the main temple of the Kitahosso sect of Buddhism.
While the temple was first founded in 778 and the earliest existing structure dates from 798, the buildings we saw dately from the 1633 rebuilding or later. As with many of the greatest of the Kyoto temples, it is located on the edge of the city, at the end of a winding street, just as it heads up the side of the mountain, in this case, greeting one with a grand main gate, brightly painted in orange and green:
We didn't want to pay the entrance fee in to the main temple with its broad wooden balcony overlooking a valley below, so we stuck to the entrance grounds and buildings, including this brightly colored, though faded, pagoda, dating from 1633 and which houses an image of the Dainichi Nyorai, the Cosmic Buddha:
The temple also featured a dragon fountain, dating from 1861, which, as I understand it, is a feature borrowed originally from Shintoism and serves as a place for ceremonial washing of the hands and mouth before entering the main temple building:
One of the other features of the Kiyomizudera temple complex--and considerably more creepy--was the hillside of Jizo statues:
If you don't know about Jizo and Jizo statues, Jizo is a "Bosatsu" (or what, in India, would be called a "Bodhisattva"), a being who could attain enlightenment and enter Nirvana but who has chosen to stay behind to help others. The particular objects of Jizo's care are especially aborted, miscarried and stillborn babies, referred to as "mizuko," which means something like "water children" since such fetuses and newborns never had the opportunity to complete their journey from the priomordial waters into full life.
Thus, in death these children remain in a kind of limbo, between death and life, and must be assisted in their journey. This is where the Jizo statues come in, which are supposed to call upon Jizo to ease the passage of the dead child. Most Jizo statues also wear red bibs made by mothers who hope that by offering them to Jizo, they can encourage him to take special care of their children's spirits:
Often one will see food, flowers, toys and so on left for the statues. Statues can be purchased and set up for between $80 and $500, from what I've read.
After running across these statues, I had had enough of temples. So we wandered away, downhill, back towards the main street where we might catch a bus.
(continue to the next post: kyoto, part four)
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