Things to do Before You Die: Rake a Zen Garden
I am staying with five roommates. Three I knew already from classes, and two are new. We have two rooms separated by sliding doors, and our futons are laid out in a row. It's like a ten-day slumber party. The pillows are filled with a substance shaped like macaroni, but pliable. I think it's fake plastic macaroni, so we are calling them the fauxroni pillows. (Traditionally they are filled with beans or wheat husks or something non-faux.) They conform to your head and are surprisingly comfortable. All the same, I'm glad I brought a Pillow Pet as an alternative, in case I get sick of the fauxroni. The bathrooms are separate and have a one-foot opening at the top of the door, so they are the same temperature as the air. (Night temperature: 30 degrees.) Thankfully, the seats are heated.
Every morning we meet in a long, narrow meditation room, with windows showing an exquisite Zen garden carpeted with moss, with a little bamboo wall and a hobbit-sized arched entrance, stone lanterns, and pine trees. Crows and songbirds call from it. The caw of crows is a common sound in Japan, and one which always reminds me of it. They're bigger than American crows. Possibly they're ravens.
The room is all straight lines, wooden walls and sand-colored tatami mats edged in black. The idea is to provide as little stimulation as possible, to allow the mind to focus inward. There are pillows lined up along the walls, and a few stools and chairs. Taka sits at the head of the room, and gives a talk before and after meditation. On the first day he took us outside to see the main garden (not the one you see through the windows.) It's a raked gravel garden modeled after the geography of Ise Shrine, which is a major holy spot for Shintoism, Japan's other main religion. (Shintoism and Buddhism co-exist; most Japanese people practice both.) There is a mini shrine, and a rock representing the rock Amaterasu, the sun goddess, used to wall herself into a cave in an ancient Japanese legend. Taka pointed out that for every temple garden, while it may have holy significance and beauty, there was probably also a patron trying to make their mark. (In this case, it was a patron who was also connected with Ise.) Money for gardens doesn't drop down from the sky.
Taka said that the purpose of the garden isn't to be pretty, though it is; it's to rake. He produced a wooden rake, and we all took a turn raking the gravel. It's harder than one might imagine - not that strenuous, but hard to keep the smooth, continuous motion required to produce those perfectly straight and even lines. After we were done, and somewhat ruefully admired our wiggly handiwork, Taka took the rake and raked the last part of the garden like a grandmaster martial artist doing a kata. (Martial arts set form.)
Crossposted to http://rachelmanija.dreamwidth.org/1024179.html. Comment here or there.
Every morning we meet in a long, narrow meditation room, with windows showing an exquisite Zen garden carpeted with moss, with a little bamboo wall and a hobbit-sized arched entrance, stone lanterns, and pine trees. Crows and songbirds call from it. The caw of crows is a common sound in Japan, and one which always reminds me of it. They're bigger than American crows. Possibly they're ravens.
The room is all straight lines, wooden walls and sand-colored tatami mats edged in black. The idea is to provide as little stimulation as possible, to allow the mind to focus inward. There are pillows lined up along the walls, and a few stools and chairs. Taka sits at the head of the room, and gives a talk before and after meditation. On the first day he took us outside to see the main garden (not the one you see through the windows.) It's a raked gravel garden modeled after the geography of Ise Shrine, which is a major holy spot for Shintoism, Japan's other main religion. (Shintoism and Buddhism co-exist; most Japanese people practice both.) There is a mini shrine, and a rock representing the rock Amaterasu, the sun goddess, used to wall herself into a cave in an ancient Japanese legend. Taka pointed out that for every temple garden, while it may have holy significance and beauty, there was probably also a patron trying to make their mark. (In this case, it was a patron who was also connected with Ise.) Money for gardens doesn't drop down from the sky.
Taka said that the purpose of the garden isn't to be pretty, though it is; it's to rake. He produced a wooden rake, and we all took a turn raking the gravel. It's harder than one might imagine - not that strenuous, but hard to keep the smooth, continuous motion required to produce those perfectly straight and even lines. After we were done, and somewhat ruefully admired our wiggly handiwork, Taka took the rake and raked the last part of the garden like a grandmaster martial artist doing a kata. (Martial arts set form.)
Crossposted to http://rachelmanija.dreamwidth.org/1024179.html. Comment here or there.