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6. Enchantments
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6 Enchantments Roadside Jizō smiling in a field— village of young leaves. —shji niwano Tanaka-san taught me how to pray properly as we stood between the pillars at the entrance to Emmyōji,Temple Fifty-Three. Inside the temple , facing out toward us, was the gilded and cloth-draped statue of Amida Nyorai, the temple’s honzon, or deity. I tried to ignore the feeling that I looked foolish as Tanaka-san showed me how to make the gasshō, or prayer mudra, with my hands positioned palm to palm and my head bowed.¹ Then I tried to imitate him as he chanted the Heart Sutra. After five weeks on the Henro Michi, I was attempting to be more diligent as a pilgrim. Shūji’s tormented confession a few days earlier had me thinking that our pilgrimage together had taken on a darker hue, a more somber significance. Like it or not, I’d been made a witness to a family drama whose outcome I couldn’t predict or alter, much less direct. In some obscure inchoate way, I’d started to think that if chanting the Heart Sutra can open the heart to the wisdom of the Buddha, as tradition claims, then maybe it would help me to be a better witness. So began my sixth week on the Shikoku pilgrimage, offering early morning prayers at the Temple of Circular Illumination, in the town of Wake, to deities I didn’t believe in, chanting a prayer whose efficacy I doubted, and uttering words I didn’t understand. Or so I’d told Tanaka-san the night before at dinner in the Uematsu minshuku. the way of the temples “It does not matter,” Tanaka-san had said, explaining that many Japanese don’t know the meaning of the words either, or regard themselves as devout Buddhists.“To learn the Hannya Shingyō is to learn with your heart. You understand with your heart.” The Heart Sutra, he explained, is the embodiment of the Buddha in sound. To recite the words, even in ignorance of their meaning, is to kindle the presence of the divine within yourself. Faith comes with practice. I wasn’t very good at praying, it seemed. Even as I tried to follow Tanaka-san, my mind drifted elsewhere. I was aware of the morning sun falling through gaps in the cedar trees surrounding the temple courtyard, dappling the damp gravel pathways in shifting patterns of shadow and light. I peeked at the watch on my left wrist when the sleeve of my pilgrim vest fell back to my elbow: it was nearly 8 a.m. I noticed how tanned my forearm had become after the weeks of walking . I enjoyed the warmth of the sun on my head and shoulders and the cool morning air on my face as I stared at Amida Nyorai, wondering if he, too, preferred the sun and the wind to all the supplications that came his way. After we finished our henro rituals, we trundled along to the temple office to get a sleepy priest to stamp our nōkyōchō. Then we sat on a bench against a wall and enjoyed the early morning peace and quiet of the temple compound. We had to wait for Shūji and Jun. Jun was having a harder time getting moving in the mornings, and he and his father were late leaving the Uematsu minshuku. I didn’t mind. It was pleasant to sit in the cool shade of the wall, nursing a can of hot Georgia Café au Lait and inhaling the smell of the overhanging azaleas as we waited for our companions. I watched a priest in burgundy robes rake the bare earth around the bell tower. A man in a blue business suit walked across the courtyard to the main temple, setting his briefcase at the foot of the steps before climbing to strike the waniguchi bell three times before praying. Tanaka-san had explained to me that each ring of the bell represents a wish to rid yourself of one of the 108 deadly desires that plague human beings. I wondered which desires bothered this businessman. The sonorous bong seemed to echo for a long time within the walls of the compound. I could just make out the indistinct sound of the man’s voice. Strangely, [3.94.99.173] Project MUSE (2024-03-29 10:08 GMT) enchantments though, I seemed to hear in...