Very few places can encapsulate the essence of a national emotion within a few square kilometers, but not only is Tenryu-Ji is one such place, it does so in the midst of the richly storied city of Kyoto, Japan. The temple rests at the far west of the old capital, opposite of the Oi river from JR station Saga-Arashiyama.
Tenryu-Ji is built on the grounds of an older Heian Period temple known as Danrin-Ji. Howver, it started life as a villa for the Emperor Go-Saga and his wife. It was transformed into a temple in 1339 at the request of the then shogun Ashikaga Takauji, who wished for the area to serve as a commemoration to his former friend, the Emperor Go-Daigo. The emperor had died that same year, as Japan nearly underwent a radical change in its leadership in the previous 148 years. Since then, the temple has undergone its own chaotic journey, as it survived fires across centuries, rebuilding itself as it struggled to maintain its original identity. In the modern day, as it is flanked by seemingly endless shops, nestled together in a vast sea of bamboo punctuated by gardens and cemeteries, many of the buildings that comprise the temple itself were built in the Meiji period, and only a small garden retains the vision of the original builder, Muso Soseki.
When I walked the streets of Kyoto, I remember that as we walked past the massive gate of the temple, my eye caught the words 'UNESCO World Heritage Site.' A voice sprung forth and tucked at my ear, begging to walk in that direction. But, I felt an obligation to my OMU buddies, who wanted to visit the bamboo forest first. The forest was impressive, and I had not known that bamboo can evoke the same memories of hiking the forests back in New England. But, my mind still draws to the temple we visited shortly afterward. And sure enough, when we walked back in the direction of the temple, I dragged my group there.
When you are about ready to get your tickets, you are greeted with the option of exploring either gardens or buildings first. We decided to explore the buildings first, and once we had finally purchased tickets, we had to drop our shoes off at the temple grounds. I was surprised by how pleasant it felt to walk on the old wooden floorboards in my socks. It also helped me feel like I was on a train as I followed the various alcove paths to observe the numerous gardens, plants, and wildlife from the confines of the temple. But by far, the greatest joy I felt was when I happened upon a group of men and women, all of mixed ages, sitting down and taking a calligraphy class together, with their styli and [The feeling of wood underneath your socks, observing the small classroom of men and women, all at differing ages, sitting together writing]
Normally, I am not fond of visiting certain places as they attract a very large crowd of people. I remember catching myself thinking I wanted the space to myself, to take in a beauty, somberness, or whatever emotion I could feel emanate from a scene. Yet here, the chatter of people, speaking Japanese, English, and even a little German, complimented the rolling zipping of cicadas. I was at peace with the heat and humidity of the place, as I watched a swift dance across the pond and foliage before retreating to behind the shingled roof. I felt I had been blessed with the intrinsic serenity of this country, in that moment as I watched the koi swim in the pond.
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