Tag Archives: Flying God Temple

The Time Traveler’s Strife

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Today, I decide to explore the Asakusa area once again. Recently, I engaged in a conversation with friends about Denbou-in Gardens, the secret gardens I visited, hidden in the grounds of Senso-ji Temple. Intrigued to discover more about this area and its hidden gems, I then heard a mention of the interestingly named Drawing Light Temple. Obviously, I wanted to find out more. In the blazing sunshine, I head to Asakusa once again and search for the temple.

It takes me about thirty minutes to wander through the huge complex of temples and shrines that make up the Senso-ji compound before I eventually find a rather obscure-looking tunnel with overhanging plants and nondescript flowers. Oddly, I have never seen this tunnel before, so for the second time in just over a fortnight, I have stumbled upon a new place in Tokyo, a city I have lived in for eight months now. Hidden beyond the foliage, on the other side of the tunnel, sits the impressive Drawing Light Temple.

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Built in 1609, this temple houses the goddess of protection from drawing light images. Fortunately, an English sign serves to remove any confusion and informs me that, “The Goddess in this temple protects against photography, portraits, and reflections.” Ironically, photography is allowed here. As I read the signboards about the history of this place, it becomes instantly apparent that if this temple was built in 1609, as the sign states, then it precedes the very first photograph, making it impossible for the goddess that resides here to know what she would be protecting against. It reminds me of the Flying God Temple, where people go to pray before they fly on an aircraft. The god there existed before aircraft were even invented. Even the story about the origin of Senso-ji, concerning the golden statue of Kannon fished from a lake, is riddled with confusion; the statue is no longer housed in Senso-ji Temple, and has never actually been seen by anyone who can prove it existed in the first place.

The inconsistencies and inaccuracies in religious narratives make me increasingly sceptical. Considering the possibility that religious stories and certain deities might be nothing more than fabrications is a notion I had never entertained before, but it now begins to take shape in my mind. What if it’s all untrue? I ponder this for a moment, and then, quite unexpectedly, I spot a magical cow.

magcow

“Look closely,” says a sign next to the cow. I stare at the cow, not really sure what I am supposed to be seeing. Everything here looks perfectly normal – just a statue of a cow. Below the sign, there is a description in Japanese, which later translates to read, “As a way to protect the stolen soul, in the cow, your image will be hidden from the drawing of light.” I take a photograph of the cow, and oddly, my image isn’t present. Very strange. I take seven more photographs from various angles, yet each time, the scenery behind me is visible, but my own reflection is mysteriously erased.

Why a cow has been chosen to symbolise the absence of reflection is beyond me, but some sort of wizardry is at hand here – a trick of light, perhaps. Continuing my exploration of this hidden temple, I discover that it holds the origin of the story that a photograph can steal your soul. It was said that when this temple was built before photographs were invented, the thought of an image of a person being taken was a direct link to the spiritual world. This history has also spread to the rest of the Senso-ji area, where no mirrors can be seen at any of the temples or shrines. It makes me wonder if the Edo Period in Japan was populated by time travellers, building temples everywhere that predict future inventions.

As I leave the Drawing Light Temple, I continue my exploration of the nearby area and discover another display of inconsistent historical information.

stonelantern

The Stone Lantern of Rokujizo was built in either 1146, 1150, or 1368, and already I find that there are too many contradictions. The sign even states that the details are unknown. Yet, the lantern itself features topography that wasn’t used until 1834. So somehow, the lantern features Japanese text that was first used 688 years, 684 years, or 466 years after it was originally built. My suspicions surrounding the history behind Senso-ji Temple are once again confirmed here.

I continue my tour and find a monument to Kume no Heinai. He was a samurai in the Edo Period and a master of sword fighting. Over the years, he killed many people before eventually turning to a life of virtue. Heinai began to live in Kongo-in Temple, inside Senso-ji Temple, and devoted himself to Zen Buddhism. He held religious services in honour of the souls of the people he killed. One day, he ordered his followers to carve his figure in stone and bury it in a busy district of Asakusa, so that forever, people would step on him—presumably what he thought he deserved after years of killing. Oddly, Heinai was in good health the day the statue was ordered to be built; however, the next day, he died suddenly, as if his fate was already known.

My final stop is the peculiarly named, Bell of Time.

belloftime

This innocent looking bell housed in a wooden structure, to the untrained eye, wouldn’t be significant. To my overactive imagination, this confirms my earlier suspicions that religion, or at least the area around Senso-ji Temple, was built by time travellers, and this bell was their time machine. Obviously, time travellers building temples sounds ridiculous, although the evidence is definitely here. If this isn’t the case though, then perhaps instead, religion is being used to make money here; exploiting the beliefs of innocent people, and making this area more attractive to tourists. It does seem from my brief attempt at investigating the area, that most of the information I have discovered is based entirely on lies.

Flossed in Translation

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I wake up early and resume my pilgrimage. My first stop is Jueiji Temple, which happens to be five minutes from my house. Inside the temple sits Hotei. He is often described as fat and happy. He certainly appears very fat and happy, as he is the god of abundance and good health. Awkwardly, I join a queue of people with my camera out. Yesterday, I didn’t take any photographs of the actual gods; I was more caught up in the stories of the temples.

Today, I wait patiently as people before me offer their prayers. They place coins in the gaping mouth of Hotei, though he certainly doesn’t need anything else to eat. One person even starts rubbing the statue’s body with his hand. Eventually, it’s my turn. I quickly snap a photograph before leisurely descending the stone steps to exit the temple.

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As I exit, a man chases me down the street. I stop, completely confused. He hands me a map of the pilgrimage trail. Brilliant, I think. No more confusing maps and getting lost. The only problem is that the map is written entirely in Japanese, and is therefore confusing and will most likely get me lost.

I head to my second stop, Shohoin Temple, also known as the Flying God Temple. I am here to meet the fourth god of seven, Ebisu. Ebisu is the god of fishers or merchants and is often depicted carrying a fish. In the temple, a sign says, “Ebisu is the god of candour, cheerfulness, and goog [sic] fortune.”

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Sitting beside the god are two statues of Arhat. These represent individuals who have undergone enough religious training to become worthy after attaining enlightenment. Arhat is often used as an honorific title for those blessed persons who have realised the ultimate truth. While the reason for these two statues sitting beside the sacred god of fishing isn’t explained, at least this temple features some English text.

I head over to Ryusen, to Bentenin Temple. This temple is difficult to find, located basically in a children’s play park and quite tiny. There is no activity here, no other pilgrims in sight. It’s as if this temple has either been missed off the route, or everyone is wandering around the side streets in search of this sacred spot. With no sign of a god anywhere, I snap a photograph that might be, but probably isn’t, the goddess Benzaiten; the goddess of knowledge, art, beauty, and music.

The goddess is usually depicted carrying a musical instrument, but this statue isn’t, which is the reason for my doubt.

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I head back to Asakusa. My pilgrimage is put on hold for another day, thanks to a trip to the dentist. I’ve now lost count of the number of times I’ve been to the dentist in Japan. It has become nothing more than a fortnightly inconvenience. Still, off I go, alone. As I sit in the waiting room at five to five, anticipating my half-past-four appointment, the wait is actually killing me.

An elderly woman enters, holding a wrapped present with a bow in tow. She hands it over to the receptionist, smiles, then bows. I find it unusual that someone would bring a present to the dentist. Next, a mother and daughter ask if they can ‘borrow’ one of the books for children. Again, a strange reason to make a visit to the dentist. Eventually, I am called, thirty minutes after my scheduled appointment time. Inside the ‘treatment room,’ the dentist holds up a gold bracelet that clearly belongs to a woman. “Luke-san, is this yours?” she asks, with genuine inquisition and lacking any sense of irony. What was supposed to be an amusing anecdote about dental floss has somehow descended into a gift-giving ceremony, a library, and a circus.

The dentist pulls out a ‘super sonic,’ as she calls it, and sprays water on my teeth. Next, she uses a scraping tool to clean, before finally flossing my teeth for me. Effectively, I have gone to the dentist to have my teeth brushed. Afterwards, the dentist gives me a packet of dental floss as a parting gift, wishes me a Happy New Year, and charges me just ¥740. Thank you, Japanese National Health Insurance.

I leave the dentist just as night begins to engulf the city. I head over to Senso-ji Temple. The crowds of people haven’t dispersed, and the New Year celebrations are still in full swing. For some reason, the first three days of the New Year are important days to visit temples and shrines, and because of this, queues of thousands are still waiting to pray for the first time this year. As I wander through the hordes of people, a man on stilts dressed as a giant sheep almost kicks me to the ground.

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Still fatigued from seven days of intense sightseeing, I head home for another early night. Tomorrow, I will visit the final two gods of the pilgrimage, and finally, I can enjoy a much-needed break from exploring the city.