31 August
This day marks my first valiant (err…not so much) attempt at Zazen with Taka-san bright and early. Being a regular yoga practitioner and sometimes meditator, I thought it would come somewhat naturally. Needless to say, I was disappointed with myself. Fifteen minutes felt like thirty, and when the closing bell rang and the wood clacked twice I had made little progress in calming my mind. Next time I will try harder to let things drop away, I told myself. Our first breakfast at Daishin’in awaited us when we returned, and it was nothing short of spectacular. Lacquer trays filled with little dishes of tofu, miso soup, pickles, rice, tea, etc. Simple but great (WAY better than western breakfast, trust me). This was a nice change from not eating breakfast, a nasty habit I’d picked up since arriving in Japan. Our next task was preparing the bicycles at Shunkoin so that as a group we could ride to Kitano shrine to ask the kami for a safe journey. Preparing eighteen bicycles = easier said than done.
The whole process ended up resembling a NASCAR race; an air team, a light-check team, a repair list team, and a team to move the cleared bicycles toward the gate. Not only did I not get the new orange cruiser I wanted, I was told to give up my crappy (yet functioning) bicycle and walk back to Daishin’in, prepare two more bicycles, and meet the group at the temple. Ah, the joy of being the right-hand lady. I set my sights on what I thought was the best bike at Daishin’in and hopped on, only to find that the brakes were only the last legs of its last legs. SQUEAKY! I couldn’t raise the seat either, and my long legs were uncomfortably cramped. The cherry on this frustrating sundae was my duty to guide myself and another graduate student, Susan, to the shrine – through a city I really did not know very well on a bike I really could not ride very well. I must have asked four people for directions and was still unsure of myself until I rode up to the huge concrete gates. Kitano shrine, thankfully, was cool and nice, quite park-like in my opinion.
Other than our group, I saw no one but identical looking middle school students in blue and white uniforms. They paced about with little sparkle in their eyes, more interested in their dangling cell phone straps than the centuries-old artifacts and ambience. I suppose it is not a bad thing to be less of a nerd than me. I brushed past the throngs and gazed at the beauty of the place, passing rows of wish plaques (mostly students asking for help passing a test or advancing to a good college), old sake casks, and tables of dried plums that emitted a delightful smell into the thick air.
Lunch at a noodle shop (I ordered hiyashi chūka [cold Chinese noodles]) and then we rushed off toward Kōryūji another old complex in NW Kyoto (albeit a Buddhist one). Dealing with lost students drove home the inevitable frustrations of teacherhood, and then I was given the reigns to guide us through crazy alley streets the find the damn temple. The alleys became smaller and smaller, until a single row of bicycles could barely fit, but somehow I got us there (oh, and now I had a shiny red brand-spankin' new bicycle)! Pat on the back #1.
My first impression of Kōryūji was sealed by an older woman in a pale blue uniform weeding moss out of a gravel area near the front gate. Her methodical plucking helped set the mood for viewing statuary that had stood still and solemn since the 9th century. Talk about fortitude! A lovely lotus pond gave me a lasting smile that even the huge purple koi fish lurking about in the pond (creepy!) could not break. Kōryūji’s treasure house of wooden and bronze statues (the most impressive of which were Kannon, my favorite bodhisattva!) closed out this beautiful learning experience. Now I don’t know about everyone, but at the end of a long day of Buddhist-related activities there is nothing I want to do more than drink a cold beer and relax.
Thankfully my sensei feels the same way. We found a little Moet-champagne themed shop that sold only beer and tako-yaki (octopus doughballs – delicious!). Enchanting!! A quick stop at the tofu shopped we passed earlier on bike and at the adjacent market to buy peaches and figs, and we headed back to the temple, visions of Japanese baths in our eyes. The evening bell gonged and gonged as I passed, saying goodnight to the sun. The moon was already on the rise and the clouds were turning a pale shade of purple, moving quickly north to join up with their friends at the typhoon festival in the sky. I could elaborate on a few more details – sweet senbe (rice crackers) with peanuts, my making the strongest tea ever and not being able to sleep, etc. – but it seems more fitting to close with a nice sunset image, doesn’t it?
Other than our group, I saw no one but identical looking middle school students in blue and white uniforms. They paced about with little sparkle in their eyes, more interested in their dangling cell phone straps than the centuries-old artifacts and ambience. I suppose it is not a bad thing to be less of a nerd than me. I brushed past the throngs and gazed at the beauty of the place, passing rows of wish plaques (mostly students asking for help passing a test or advancing to a good college), old sake casks, and tables of dried plums that emitted a delightful smell into the thick air. 
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