Explore the beauty of Japan

Author: Tatsuo Hayashiya
Translator: Tang Yue Mei / Country: Japan
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2001-11-01
Features: Great joy in this scorching summer, to have so many listeners gathered here today. I sincerely thank you all. I hope you can be as relaxed as possible while listening. Since I didn’t have much time to prepare, this speech may not be very well-organized. Please bear with me and listen with a light heart. Just now, Elder Sonomoto said some flattering words, and I really don’t dare to accept them. On this occasion of the anniversary of the founding of the Shari Society, praising the virtue of the monk Ganjin, I feel both close to heart and truly happy to have the opportunity to meet and speak with all of you. The topic of this speech is called "Mountain Clouds · Wave Sounds." As you all know, this is the title of the sliding screen painting you see. At Elder Sonomoto’s suggestion, I decided to use the title of the sliding screen painting as the topic of my speech unchanged. I think Elder Sonomoto wanted me to give a speech on the sliding screen painting while the screens for the Upper Hall and the Palace Hall were being completed. So today, I will basically take the sliding screen painting as the main topic, but as a whole, I hope to start my speech in the form of free discussion.
Scenery of Japan, a Country of Mountains and Seas
Mountains and seas—without a doubt, these are the two most important elements representing the scenery of Japan. Japan, an island nation, is surrounded by the sea and has a complex coastline. Whether it’s calm beaches or turbulent shorelines, whether it’s tranquil inner seas or rough outer seas, whether it’s the northern seas with surging waters or the southern seas filled with coral reefs, you can see richly changing scenery everywhere. Mountains are no less than the sea in showing complexity. As an island nation, our country does not have the kind of vast plains that stretch for days when traveling by car. Even if you ride across the plains, you will soon see mountains. In short, mountains are everywhere. Moreover, no matter which mountain it is, they are lush with trees and are often shrouded in floating clouds, mist, and clouds, with their shapes changing instantly. And the transition of seasons from spring to autumn and winter is also very clear. The Japanese archipelago at this latitude allows us to enjoy the changes of all four seasons all year round. Although there are few landscapes of giants, they are full of scenery that is easy to approach, heartwarming, and can be touched. I think the scenery of Yamato or Kyoto, which has long been the cultural center of Japan, is enough to represent the scenery of Japan. Our ancestors who lived in this environment have left us countless works in literature and art since ancient times. Of course, Japan is a beautiful country. It is just that it has been greatly neglected in recent years, which is a great pity. However, the character of the scenery itself in Japan is indeed very beautiful. For example, like Mount Fuji, which gives a sense of clarity and purity, standing near the coast of the Pacific Ocean, it has become one of the characteristics of Japanese scenery.
The Scenery in the Heart of Monk Ganjin
In ancient China, there was a legend that the Penglai Mountain floating on the Bohai Sea was an immortal paradise. I feel that the ancient Chinese people were more eager to yearn for the Penglai Mountain floating in the more distant East Sea than for the islands of China floating in the Bohai Sea. In the Sui and Tang dynasties, exchanges began between Japan and China, but people still thought Japan was very far at sea, and it was extremely difficult to travel from China to Japan. The Chinese who traveled thousands of miles across the sea to Japan had to pass through the Seto Inland Sea to reach the capital. Seeing that scenery, the image of Penglai Island probably came clearly to their minds. More than 1,200 years ago, the eminent monk Ganjin from Tang Dynasty Japan, at the invitation of the newly emerging Buddhist country of Japan, endured unimaginable hardships and finally arrived in Japan. It is said that the journey took nearly twelve years. Of course, his arrival brought orthodox Buddhism to this country, which was of great significance. However, on the other hand, as we can see from Elder Sonomoto’s speech, there is another meaning: he speculates that Ganjin also had such feelings, that he wanted to see the beautiful scenery of Japan that was rumored to be so beautiful. Unfortunately, when Ganjin arrived in Japan, his eyes were already blind, and he could not see the scenery of Japan. How I wish Ganjin could have seen the scenery of Japan, even just for a moment. However, even though Ganjin’s eyes could not see, he could still touch the gentle and warm air of Japan, and perhaps he could still imagine the beautiful environment of Japan.
The First Step in Creating the Sliding Screen Painting of the Tangzhao Temple
Of course, the first step in creating the sliding screen painting of the Tangzhao Temple is to study the Tangzhao Temple and Monk Ganjin. Before deciding to engage in this creation, I visited the temple on the opening of the June anniversary of the founding of the temple and paid homage to the magnificent halls and pavilions, including the Golden Hall and Lecture Hall of the Heian period, and touched the dignity of the Buddha statues, which deeply moved my heart. In the Gion Hall, I paid homage to the statue of Monk Ganjin and thought: Isn’t it disrespectful to paint sliding screen paintings in such a place? My feelings were very strong. However, the indomitable spirit of Monk Ganjin guided me, making me reconsider the path he pointed out, and finally I accepted this arduous task.
In the past, during the Heian period [Note: The Heian era was the era of Emperor Shomu of Japan, 729–749], the two Japanese monks, Rui and Fugen, went to the Daming Temple in Yangzhou to visit Monk Ganjin and asked him to cross the sea to Japan. At that time, Monk Ganjin was fifty-five years old. His journey to Japan was hindered several times, his shipwrecked, and he drifted to various places, suffering five setbacks, until he finally lost his sight. After twelve years of hardship, he finally arrived in Japan and entered the capital of Nara. This was in the sixth year of the Shōhō era (754). He founded the Tangzhao Temple and passed away at the age of seventy-seven, making great contributions to Japanese culture. It is said that the statue of Monk Ganjin placed in the Gion Hall was carved by his disciples while he was still alive. The statue depicts a serene figure with closed eyes and hands folded in meditation. After twelve hundred years, this demeanor of Monk Ganjin remains, and I even seem to faintly feel his breathing rhythm. His resolute and strong force, his warm and inclusive force, naturally manifest themselves. I have visited Nara many times and stayed there, visiting ancient shrines and temples in Yamato and Kii, paying homage to the sacred objects, and attending historical ceremonies, intimately experiencing the charm of the four seasons as the seasons change. Although the scenery of Nara has changed greatly, it still retains the old face of the Japanese spirit. This is the culture of the Asuka [Note: The Asuka period was originally a division of art history, now generally refers to the period after the introduction of Buddhism into Japan until the Taika Reforms, i.e., 552–646] and Nara [Note: Nara period, 710–794] periods, which bloomed under the influence of foreign winds. Traveling here gave me the opportunity to think about the origin of Japanese national culture, which is also a happiness in life.
At four o’clock in the afternoon, we arrived at the Rakugawa Station. This place is near the prefectural border between Gifu and Nara. The Kiso River flows nearby. MyN and I crossed the swaying bridge and set up a tent on the riverbank. The river water was clear, and the rocks had various shapes. We decided to cook dinner and went to a nearby farmhouse for drinking water. The farmer’s wife, who was carrying a child, said, “You must be here to fish,” and handed us the water. I replied, “We’re setting up a tent on the riverbank.” She said the sand was very damp and offered us a straw mat. She also kindly said, “If it rains heavily, you won’t mind if you move to our dilapidated house.” She handed us some firewood. We found a suitable rock for the stove and placed an aluminum rice cooker on it to cook. While cooking, some thoughts from the morning came to my mind. We planned to follow the Kiso River, camping along the way, and finally climbing Mount Kiso. In short, we calculated that as long as we followed the Kiso River down, we could definitely reach our goal. So we set off.
At nine twenty-one in the morning, we got off at the Tōjō Station and crossed the mountain range toward Tōkiji. The weather was scorching hot, and the backpacks were heavy. We asked for a drink of water at a lone household on the mountain top, but they gave us tea instead. The old-fashioned tea bowl was quite elegant. After crossing the mountain range, we rested under the Kōkyō Bridge and had lunch. No matter how we looked, we couldn’t find a suitable place to set up a tent, so we changed our plan and hurried to the Tōkiji Station. We finally caught the three o’clock train and arrived at Rakugawa. Soon, the food was cooked. In front of the clear of the Kiso River, under the moonlight, we picked up chopsticks.
On the morning of July 3rd, we swam and sunbathed while lying flat. The river water was icy, and I felt as if my whole body was numb. From the shore, the river water flowed slowly, but as soon as we approached the center, the water became. The weather was scorching hot, so we didn’t want to go out and took a nap. At half past four, we set off, walking along the mountain path toward Asahina. To reach the Chūsenkō, we had to cross the summit of the Maruyama Mountain, but we took a route along the Kiso River, where the water was clear and the scenery was beautiful. We arrived in Asahina. From the map, Asahina seemed to be right by the river. We took the mountain path, far from the river. While looking for a place to set up a tent, it started to pour heavily. By evening, the rain got heavier, with lightning and thunder, which was quite spectacular. The mountain path seemed to become a waterfall, and we took shelter under the pine trees from the rain. The raindrops fell relentlessly on our heads, and we turned back to Asahina. We went to a farmhouse and explained the situation. The old woman welcomed us warmly. The house was sturdy, with dark, shiny wooden pillars. We were invited into the living room, which was said to be next to her son’s room. That room had a bookshelf filled with books, and a desk with a stack of manuscripts, which I glanced at and saw were written in tanka poems. The old woman said her son was practicing the festival flute at a neighbor’s house tonight. She served us tea and snacks. During the conversation, the thunder gradually moved away, and soon the rain stopped. The old woman said that although there were no famous attractions in this area, there was a park. She invited us to go outside for a walk. It was a beautiful moonlit night. The park she mentioned was next to a hydroelectric power station, with only a few cherry trees planted, very simple, but the old woman didn’t mind. In fact, I also felt that this moonlit mountain gully scenery was more beautiful than any park in the city. The night air was particularly fresh, with a clear sky and a gentle breeze, which was very pleasant. The old woman, who didn’t know how to doubt others, was extra excited. When I came back, I was about to sleep when I faintly heard the sound of music practicing for the festival in the distance.
On the morning of July 4th, I woke up to find it raining, which was disappointing. This family treated us to a delicious meal of potatoes and cucumbers from Shinano. After finishing the meal, we bid farewell. We walked silently in the rain and fog. By evening, we arrived at Shūgen. The lonely rows of houses still retained the face of the old inn. Although the rain had stopped, we couldn’t find a place to set up a tent here. There is a magnificent Dōshō Temple here. We asked if we could set up a tent in a corner of the temple, but we were refused. It is said that this is a temple with a history, which was once the imperial residence of Emperor Meiji. We walked to the end of the town and met three or four locals, who looked at us strangely and said, “You don’t seem like bad people.”