Climbing The Steps of Fushimi Inari

           A couple weeks ago I journeyed to Kyoto to visit the Fushimi Inari Shrine. If you've seen Memoirs of a Geisha than this shrine might be familiar to you. And if you haven't, then you probably have no idea what the heck I'm talking about. Let's remedy that!

This is the scene where a young Sayuri is running through the torii gates at Fushimi Inari 

    The Fushimi Inari Shrine is dedicated to Inari the goddess of prosperity, rice, and industry. She also happens to be the patron deity of merchants and farmers. You can say that she's rather popular, the Fushimi Inari Shrine alone has more than 32,000 sub-shrines throughout Japan.

Main Gate at Fushimi Inari

     When I visited it was a perfect day sunny and cool like the autumn weather back home. And I can say that from the moment we arrived to Fushimi Inari station it was like stepping back in time. Almost every temple I've visited thus far has had this aura of the past but in Fushimi Inari the air was different.

The 狐 (fox) messengers of Inari

     Maybe it was the size, the small stolen glances of  the Miko and priests between the shrine doors, a quick flash of a red hakama, or the distant echo of a Buddhist chant, or the snarling faces of a hundred foxes jaws lulling open. Or perhaps it was it's utter foreignness to me, not only in language but in customs, practices, and religion. Everything was tainted by my distance with an air of mystery.  

As we climbed the orange torii gates wound up the side of the mountain and the light seeping in from the gaps made it seem like I was walking in the fiery belly of an old and giant snake.  The whole way up an underlying tranquility pervaded everything and in its infectious and almost jarring nature I found myself stopping and attempting to cast out my senses. Running fingers over the cold stone of shrines, the shined and sometimes splintered wood of the gates, hearing the dull gong and high twinkle of temple bells, and breathing in deep the heady mixture of temple incense and mountain air. It seemed like we were all propelled forward, old and young, singular and in groups. Feet moving of their own accord, stair after stair in a destination-less procession up the mountain.

     Small individual shrines sat in clusters on the edge of the main trail, like villages for the tiny foxes that guarded them. At times when I was snapping pictures it almost felt like they were watching me, hungry with their open mouths and tiny snake silted eyes. Waiting to gobble up offerings and prayers and in return grant prosperity. 

And as I reached the top and saw the last shrine surrounded by a hundred mirrored miniatures, I felt a near chill. Like I had walked into to an abandoned city, undisturbed and uninvited. Still, I felt draw there, drawn to put a hundred yen coin in the mouth of the kitsune and grab for myself a piece of good fortune. Climbing the steps of Fushimi Inari one realizes what it takes to receive prosperity, repetition, motivation and an audacity to disturb something in yourself that you never have before.

Kyoto Excursion

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     I had the opportunity to go to Kyoto during orientation week, an opportunity that I eagerly accepted! We were divided into groups and accompanied by Japanese Kansai Gaidai students. Luckily, Kyoto is only about an hour train ride from Hirakata-Shi Station, and relatively cheap as well. I've always thought of Kyoto as the land of the geisha, a hub of old Japan. I was more interested in shopping than hiking up a billion and one stairs to an old Buddhist temple. But my group had decided on going to Kiyomizu-dera and I wasn't going to be the Debbie Downer. So somewhat reluctantly I agreed, and I don't regret it. Japan has pushed me into doing things that I might not have tried elsewhere (good things don't worry). Just like I've only had a glimpse of Kyoto, I've only had a glimpse of Japan. And I'm constantly finding new things that inspire, amaze and surprise me. 

Another part of the temple

 

The pagoda of Kiyomizu-Dera was under construction

The old and new living in harmony is something Japan does marvelously well. And so far I've found the best demonstration of this wonderful harmony in Kyoto. It's a place where one moment you're here and the next you're some place else, suspended, and ethereal, in some sort of  transient limbo of time. You get lost in the wafting earthy smell of temple incense, the small winding streets crowded with shops and food stalls, the the hum of visitor's voices, snapping of cameras and feet on concrete steps. All heading forward up the Otawa Mountain towards Kiyomizu-dera, an Heian period Buddhist temple.     

Inside you can make an offering, ring the bell and say a prayer

     When we reached the temple I felt like a bystander. I watched a mother teach her son how to bow, she fixed his socked feet tucking them under his tiny legs and bent his head down to the floor beneath the Buddha statue, visitors drank and washed hands in the Otawa Waterfall for health, luck and longevity. And there was me, fumbling my way through, not knowing when to bow, to take off my shoes, to make an offering, or to pray. But the thing was, I was okay with it of just observing. That was what I loved the most about Kyoto. To me it was like a story book read to me by someone else, elegantly distant and hauntingly present.

Do you like my artsy natural lens flare?