Awakenings At A Zen Temple
Left: Daisen-in, Kyoto
Photography by
El-Branden Brazil
When I was a young child, I began to have an interest in Buddhism. This started from curiosity about the strange, mysterious Eastern statues that cluttered my uncle's house in London. He has a fine collection of Buddhas from all corners of Asia; each displaying their individual cultural design. There was something intriguing in their benevolent smile that just enticed me to learn more.
At 12, I started to build a small collection of books devoted to mysticism around the world. I prized a set of encyclopaedias, called Man, Myth & Magic, which covered every topic regarding occultism, religion, legends and Anthropology. Within, were a grand array of images that to this day remain potent in my mind; particularly those of Buddhist monks meditating at Zen gardens in Japan.
In a secondhand bookshop in London, I purchased my first book on Zen, written by Christmas Humphreys. It was a slender volume, with an image of an Asian tiger on the front. The next book I purchased on the subject, again in London, was a delightful tome by Shunryu Suzuki, Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind. I found this book to be a clear gateway into understanding the point - if there is indeed a point - to Zen.
In those young years, Zen had enormous appeal to me, even though I had much to learn. I adored the design and art of Zen, with their pristine, clear gardens of raked gravel and precisely placed rocks. It was exotic for a small English boy dreaming of travelling to far-flung places. I kept this interest quiet, as I was a non-Catholic at a Catholic school.
At long long last, I finally completed my school studies, graduated from university and I was now an adult free in the big old world. Within six months of graduation, I moved to Japan. Inevitably, high on my priority list of places to visit in this most curious of countries were the Zen temples of Kamakura. It was a childhood dream to see with my very own eyes the scenes that had attracted me so much in the pages of my books.
In no time, I was heading away from Tokyo to my first Zen temple, on what now seems like such an innocent adventure into the unknown. I got off the train in Kita-Kamakura and took a short walk to a nearby temple, called Enkaku-ji. I felt myself pulsating with joy to see a real living Zen temple.
Enkaku-ji was selected by the Hojo clan, towards the end of the Kamakura period - when the town was the capital of Japan - as one of the five most important Zen temples. The Rinzai school of Zen is practised within, and to this day, it remains an important place for the study of Zazen (meditation).
As moved closer to the main central complex, enamoured with delight, I came across a small door, with an improvised sign stuck to it. Written on a piece of paper, in English, were the clear words 'Come in.' My mind was abuzz with excitement that just maybe I would finally meet a real Zen monk within, who would take me under his wing and lead me to Satori (instant enlightenment). I clasped the small ring handle and turned it, full of trepidation and curiosity...
...The door opened and at this point, a monk, dressed in black robes, came screaming towards me, 'GET OUT! GET OUT!' It was not the moment I had dreamt of as a child! I quickly made a retreat, feeling ejected, rejected and dejected that I had been scorned by a holy man for opening a door.
As I walked away, I started to chuckle to myself, as I realised what a classic Zen lesson I had been taught. Instantly, the 'exotic' which had intoxicated my mind, and had become a distraction from a truer understanding of Buddhism, was now removed. For the first time, I recognised that the tranquil, idealised monks in my Western books were, in fact, no different than I. To this day, I thank that monk for treating me in such a brusque manner.
At 12, I started to build a small collection of books devoted to mysticism around the world. I prized a set of encyclopaedias, called Man, Myth & Magic, which covered every topic regarding occultism, religion, legends and Anthropology. Within, were a grand array of images that to this day remain potent in my mind; particularly those of Buddhist monks meditating at Zen gardens in Japan.
In a secondhand bookshop in London, I purchased my first book on Zen, written by Christmas Humphreys. It was a slender volume, with an image of an Asian tiger on the front. The next book I purchased on the subject, again in London, was a delightful tome by Shunryu Suzuki, Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind. I found this book to be a clear gateway into understanding the point - if there is indeed a point - to Zen.
In those young years, Zen had enormous appeal to me, even though I had much to learn. I adored the design and art of Zen, with their pristine, clear gardens of raked gravel and precisely placed rocks. It was exotic for a small English boy dreaming of travelling to far-flung places. I kept this interest quiet, as I was a non-Catholic at a Catholic school.
At long long last, I finally completed my school studies, graduated from university and I was now an adult free in the big old world. Within six months of graduation, I moved to Japan. Inevitably, high on my priority list of places to visit in this most curious of countries were the Zen temples of Kamakura. It was a childhood dream to see with my very own eyes the scenes that had attracted me so much in the pages of my books.
In no time, I was heading away from Tokyo to my first Zen temple, on what now seems like such an innocent adventure into the unknown. I got off the train in Kita-Kamakura and took a short walk to a nearby temple, called Enkaku-ji. I felt myself pulsating with joy to see a real living Zen temple.
Enkaku-ji was selected by the Hojo clan, towards the end of the Kamakura period - when the town was the capital of Japan - as one of the five most important Zen temples. The Rinzai school of Zen is practised within, and to this day, it remains an important place for the study of Zazen (meditation).
As moved closer to the main central complex, enamoured with delight, I came across a small door, with an improvised sign stuck to it. Written on a piece of paper, in English, were the clear words 'Come in.' My mind was abuzz with excitement that just maybe I would finally meet a real Zen monk within, who would take me under his wing and lead me to Satori (instant enlightenment). I clasped the small ring handle and turned it, full of trepidation and curiosity...
...The door opened and at this point, a monk, dressed in black robes, came screaming towards me, 'GET OUT! GET OUT!' It was not the moment I had dreamt of as a child! I quickly made a retreat, feeling ejected, rejected and dejected that I had been scorned by a holy man for opening a door.
As I walked away, I started to chuckle to myself, as I realised what a classic Zen lesson I had been taught. Instantly, the 'exotic' which had intoxicated my mind, and had become a distraction from a truer understanding of Buddhism, was now removed. For the first time, I recognised that the tranquil, idealised monks in my Western books were, in fact, no different than I. To this day, I thank that monk for treating me in such a brusque manner.
The Hands Of The Daibutsu
Photography By El-Branden Brazil
4 comments:
Buddhism caught my eye, a little later in life than yours. When I was studying religion in University, age 19/20/21 ish. So much of it made sense, or at least made me THINK! I was brought up Catholic by a dad who was once a monk and a priest(catholic), and he was son to a church of England vicar-quite a loaded family history! Organised religions always lose me at some point because of the human error factor. Budhism I thought, great, no man-conceived god! But then I found out the Budha was a married man with a child when he decided to go of and search for enlightenment. I mean, I just think, what if his wife had had the same impulse at the same time? Who would have taken care of their child? Is every quest in life a selfish one?
On the other hand, each of us lives but one life, the next time round we're a totally different person!
And I realise I'm talking myself in circles here!
I hope to do my travelling in a few years time, when my kids are old enough to be left or join me at their own will. But they still need me now, and without responsibility-there is no freedom!
Tia x
Gandhi was also married and had children, and while he was a noble, great man, it appears that he was a lousy husband and father.
I like very much the Mahayana belief in Bodhisattvas - beings who have become enlightened, but refuse to enter Nirvana until all other living beings have been helped to reach the same state. That is a wonderful selfless position. Even if it is all hokum, if everyone tried to live by such an ethos the world would most certainly be a better place. The aspiration is more important than the result.
You sound like a devoted and wonderful mum, and that is something that can never be taken away from you.
Best wishes,
El-Branden
lovely story (:
WHACK!!! (Zen Stick) ;)
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