A night with the monks
At a monastery Ged Cann broke two rules in one night - yet managed to redeem himself somewhat when two naked Japanese men joined him for a bath...
The monks of Koyasan, Japan have three rules: no flowers, no music, and no women. I managed to break two of those rules during my one-night monastery stay, and by doing so somehow found myself in a situation where I was relieved to have two naked Japanese men join me for a bath.
Koyasan sits surrounded by mountains 1000 metres above sea level near Osaka, in the southof Honshu. As our Wendy Wu guide explained, Koyasan is the centre of Shingon Buddhism in Japan, a denomination which distances itself from worldly distractions, hence the aversion to blossoms, tunes, and women.
More progressive minds prevailed in recent times and women are now welcomed (lucky, when you’re travelling with four female travel writers and booked to spend a night eating, sleeping and living among the monks).
We arrived at the Hongakuin temple lodging, and the first thing we were asked to do was take off our shoes, and slip into a pair of 18th century Crocstyle shoes.
It is to be a quintessential monk experience, sleeping on hard futon mattresses, eating strictly vegetarian meals, and bathing in the traditional fashion – fully starkers in a piping hot communal tub.
It was here that I broke the second rule – no music. The men’s bathing time was right after the evening meal, and arriving promptly, I had the place to myself. Five minutes into my luxurious solo soak, I realised the room had truly fantastic acoustics. Who wouldn’t sing?
Many would grimace to hear a tuneless recital of One Direction’s classic Story of My Life, but the head that poked around the door midway through looked truly terrified.
My mouth shut, realising I had broken the second rule. To my horror, the man also came into the bath with underwear on. Had I misunderstood the monks’ instructions? Would I be known as the strange exhibitionist Westerner with a terrible taste in music?
Then two more men entered in a state of nature. I never thought I would be so relieved to see a pair of naked Japanese men. I attempted modesty, covering all I could with the small white flannel they give you for the purpose, and returned to my room.
The walls were paper thin, made from traditional painted canvas, the glass was single glazed, and I was grateful for the thick blankets.
There is more to Koyasan than monasteries, however.
Under the day’s heavy skies we visited Okunoin Graveyard, which surrounds the mausoleum of Kobo Daishi, the founder of Shingon Buddhism. Daishi is said to have walked into the building among the towering trees, sat down, and entered eternal meditation. He never emerged, and is believed to sit in silence still, preparing for enlightenment.The monks still bring him daily meals.
The green moss that caps uncounted headstones on the walk to the mausoleum looks lush on the grey day, and the mist hangs heavy, obscuring the canopy of the 1000-year-old cedar trees. There is something haunting about the squat mausoleum, sitting remarkably unremarkable in the shadow of a far grander and newer hall of worship, and surrounded by the graves of some 200,000 monks.
On the walk back, vibrant red
bonnets and purple scarves are wrapped around small stone Jizo statues. Jizo is a bodhisattva - a person who is able to reach nirvana but delays doing so via compassion for suffering beings. Our guide says the items are left by parents who’ve lost children, often through miscarriage. Jizo is said to help smuggle unborn and lost children into the afterlife in the sleeves of his robe, and the knitted items are meant as gifts in the hope Jizo will help the families’ own lost children.
I find the tokens do not strike as morbid. They add warmth to a scene turned monochrome by silver sheets of rain.
❚ The writer was a guest of Cathay Pacific.