An Act of Mindfulness in Koya-San

 

I was jolted out of sleep by a panicked feeling, fearful that I had overslept and blinded by the morning brightness that had infiltrated the room through the thin screen doors. The space heater had automatically turned off in the middle of the night and the mountain chill permeated the room. I pulled my blankets over my head, curled up into a ball and closed my eyes for a moment. I stretched my achy back, sore from sleeping on the floor, even though I had added an extra cushioned layer to my tatami mat. My hand ventured out from underneath the blanket onto the floor to find my cellphone, which flashed 5:30am. I took a deep breath and kicked my blankets back so that the cold could shock my body awake. It was time to get up for the main reason why I had come to Koya-san, Japan.

I feel most free to be my true self when I’m on vacation in a foreign country, but this was taking it to another level. Being in a Buddhist monastery on top of a remote mountain in Japan made me feel like I was far removed from the rest of the world and at the same time deeply connected with the world.

As I pulled back the screen doors, my breath came out in small puffs of cold fog that disappeared as quickly as they appeared. The blue sky was clear and the Ekoin temple was calm and quiet. I quickly changed out of my yukata and kimono into jeans and a heavy black fleece pullover, and joined my travel group in the main lodging area. Shivering and groggy, the seven of us were quiet this morning as we made our way to the main room to observe the morning prayer service.

When we arrived in the main prayer hall, the limited seating area was mostly filled with a mix of foreigners and Japanese elders. We shuffled into the back of the room, kneeling on our knees or sitting cross-legged Indian style on the carpeted floor. The sounds of the monks setting up for service echoed sharply in the sleepy, yet alert silence. I stared at the Amida Buddha that was staged in the center of the room and breathed deeply, inhaling the incense smoke that wafted through the air. The monks were wrapped in layers of dark orange and maroon robes with layers of prayer beads around their necks. An older monk, I presumed him to be the most senior one in the room, settled down in front of the main Buddha statue with a prayer book in front of him. Three younger monks sat on the floor to his right with prayer books in front of them. One monk stood near a giant drum on the left. At six thirty am, the prayer began. The sound of the tonal chanting in Pali filled the room and wrapped around me like a security blanket. It reminded me of my childhood, when my mom used to have me kneel in front of the Buddha and Guan Yin statues, and recite mantras in Cantonese until the incense stick had burned to the end.

I had sat right in front of the incense urn, front and center behind the head monk facing the Buddha. I didn’t understand any of the Pali, but let the chanting lull me into a state of meditation, focusing on the image of the Buddha. At some point, people began to take turns lighting and offering three sticks of incense to the Buddha. Everyone patiently waited their turn to make their offering. As the morning prayer service began to wind down, the head monk continued chanting while he got up and shook his mandala in our direction, I assumed to bless the visitors. One of the monks beat the drum a few times and then all was quiet. The head monk bowed and spoke to us calmly in Japanese about the truth of suffering in the world and how we have to face the things that happen in life directly. He motioned for us to rise and make our way around the rest of the prayer hall to pay our respects to other bodhisattvas in the room. Whenever I reflect back on this experience, I am reminded that the greatest freedom, no matter where I am, is to focus on the things that are within my control.

As we walked out of the temple, I turned around and bowed deeply one last time to the Amida Buddha. In that moment, I felt humbled and grateful to be alive.

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