Hasu Transitoire (The Transient Lotus)

From the bustling chatter of an active monastery – full of presence and thoughtful life that may seem quiet at first glance but is in fact teeming with, well, aliveness – to the sleek dark lacquer chairs and tables of the large lecture hall where we spend most of our time, the cheerful student volunteers who pour cup after cup of hot water for tea, the faces of tired students and scholars at the end of another fourteen hour day of lectures and seminars, we all made this a special time and place. The cozy morning wake ups, the warm coconut milk at breakfast, cold morning walks to the temple, setting ins with tea and settling the mind to receive, negotiate, and process wisdom and intellect. Meals with the monks and nuns, their singing prayers and speedy appetites, delicious food prepared with love aplenty. The woman who scoops the rice gave me a special smile each time and said what I expect were endearing words, although I’ll never be sure. The young monk, petite and size with suc

I woke today and rode my bicycle through winding alley streets across Kyoto to her northeast edge. There I met a friend from Africa who's been eager for me to 'share my mountains, even just a little' with him. We hopped an almost empty northbound bus.  One and a half hours later it dropped us at the entrance of Daihizan 大悲山 (Great Compassion Mountain), and drove away with a cheery mechanical song. From there we walked just over two kilometers into the dripping green along a milky green river, cicadas promenading us in song, until the road ended, at the entrance of Bujōji 峰定時, a hidden gem among Japan's sacred mountain temples. Mrs. Nakamura, the sweet older lady who managed the temple, smiled widely when we met, eager to converse and share stories of the mountains and their glory. I imagine such opportunities are somewhat rare for her, being posted here in the center of Great Compassion Mountain, which certainly doesn't appear in many guidebooks. We picked

There is much to be learned about life from the art of making soup - patience, planning, risk, creativity, union, process, etc. I am a happy student.  

The rain pounds down outside, a sweet song the skies have really been enjoying of late. I don't mind, in fact it inspires a soft creativity in my mind. Thoughts drift to mountain adventures, which continue to reveal themselves as the path of my heart. I've just returned from a four-day run in Nara. A quiet and thoughtful reconnecting with sites, sights, and a few familiar faces. I collected a new gem for my mountain treasure chest, and beautiful indeed she is. Hasedera in southern Nara Prefecture is the reward of a meandering journey: south and east about an hour from Nara, alighting then descending stone steps from a lonesome train station, crossing through a small and sleepy town situated on a hillside, over a lulling river, and then up another hillside and hundreds more stone steps. Nestled is a good descriptive fit; nicely exhausting a good,  realistic reflection. The air shifted as I moved, thick near the river, and ever so subtly lighter and more accommodating

A month-long celebration across the whole city to celebrate and preserve life. I've never seen a city so alive. And this is just the lead up for the big parades on July 17 and 24. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gion_Matsuri

Mt. Omine is a place of terrific beauty and wonder. It lies deep in the mountains of Nara Prefecture, and the small hot springs town of Dorogawa Onsen nestles at the base of its largest peaks, Sanjôgatake and Inamuragatake. I am watching late afternoon shadows casting over colorful hillsides, writing while sitting at the window of my inn. A few locals mill about, and the sound of running water from Gorogoro springs forth as a constant. This area has been held as sacred for well over a thousand years, and for good reason. Steep cliff faces, deep limestone caves, fresh spring water, not to mention the effervescent spirit of the locals and their histories. Mt. Omine is also the headquarters of Shugendo, Japan’s tradition of mountain asceticism…men (mostly) clad in white dangling themselves from cliffs, meditating under frigid waterfalls or in pitch black and seemingly endless caves. It’s my second research trip here to study a lesser-known aspect of the mountain’s history, its exclu