Vigga Wha’?!?!

random quotes from elementary school kids in kobe

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3rd grader: Are you in you’re 20’s?

Me: That’s right.

3rd grader: You’re gonna be in your 30’s soon…

Kobo Daishi(774-835)
Founder of the Japanese Shingon School on Mt. Koya in Japan.
774, Born in in Sanuki Province on Shikoku
788, At age 14 he was sent to the capital at fourteen to study under his maternal uncle, the tutor to the crown prince.
791, At seventeen he succeeded in entering the university
804, Sent to China, he studied the Shingon teachings under Priest Hui-Kuo (746-845) at the Ch’ing-lung temple.
806, Kukai returned to Japan aboard a diplomatic ship
809, Woed the Emperor of Japan with his calligraphy and poetry.
812, Initiated Saicho and his students into Shingon teachings
816, Broke with Saicho over issues of the importance of “face to face” transmissions versus written ones.
822, Dengyo Died
822, A Shingon chapel, Nan-in, was established at Todaiji
823, Kukai was granted Toji near Kyoto,
and established Shingon as a separate Sect.
825, he received imperial permission to build a lecture hall there
827, he performed a ritual for rain
and was elevated to the rank of senior assistant high priest in the Bureau of Clergy.
834, Established a Shingon chapel within the imperial palace.
830, Completed his work on the classification of the teachings and the place of Shingon within them,
the Ten Stages of the Development of Mind in ten volumes.
835 Kukai died on Mount Koya on April 23

Mount Koya is a great excape from the hustle and bustle of Osaka. To get there, you must take a special line into the mountains of Wakayama prefecture. You know that you re heading into the outer provinces when the train shinks and several cars are detached from the chain.

The weather was awesome as me and Rocky ventured out of Namba (South Osaka) to Koya San. As with most touristy places in Japan, we spent the majority of the day visiting relics and ruins (though they didn t seem so ruined since they were reconstructed - Koya San is a major tourist spot). Since getting her book at Kiyomizu Dera, Rocky had also become obsessed with collecting “goshuin cho”, calligraphic writings offered by shines and temples throughout Japan. Everywhere we went, it became about getting the “sign” as we liked to call them. Unfortunately, we had to learn, what may seem to be an obvious matter of fact, that younger “signers” just aren t going to do it like their sempais, or more aged counterparts. shux.

Going on the advice I got from a guy whose name i have since forgotten at queer bar in Osaka, I made it a point to finish out day at Koya San by heading to the cemetary…. preferably at dusk. Acoording to my new friend, the cemetary had an incredible spiritual vibe about it. He told me a story of going there one winter and being surrounded by massive trees and gravestones, with only laterns along the footpath to guide your way towards the mausoleum of Kobo Daishi himself. Crampt and congested in the city, I was sold on the image of snow falling in a mysterious mountain, away from the crowds, okonomiyaki, department stores, salary men… city life in Japan. I immediately sought the comfort of dead people, hundreds of them.

As night started apporaching, we wandered toward the cemetary. The darker it bacame, the crisper the air seemed. At last, out of the city and in nature, I thought as we passed 88 buddas, each different, each representing a particular budda from Shikoku’s 88 temple pilgrimage. Whimsically meandering toward Kobo Daishi’s tomb, the heart of the cemetery, we came across wonderful rock gardens, a line of tori gates, some red, some not, that led to a smaller, abandoned shrine tucked in a nook, as well as what appeared to be a white wolf (although one of us would like to claim it as a dog). Exploring/discovering drew us deeper into the labryntine graveyard. As it got darker, we realized that Kobo Daishi’s tomb was one amongst soo many others; with no signs and less light, it became clearer that we were lost in a cemetary in a mountain in Japan… that was when we made a friend.

He was strolling in the graveyard, practically dark by this time. Seemingly oblivious to our presence, he kept on his way, in no apparent rush, to no apparent place. “Sumimasen, sumimasen..”, I said, getting his attention. I explained that were were looking for Okunoin, Kobo Daishi’s tomb, as well as the closest bus stop to catch the bus to the trainstation and back to salarymanville. A bit smelly, the man was nice and first gave us directions, and then directed us personally to each destination. Realizing that we had little time to visit Okunoin before the last bus came, he decided it was best to jog to the tomb.

me: what are you doing here

him: i m becoming budda

me: really, how are you doing that?

him: by walking, just walking.

The man told me a bit about himself during our little jog. Turned out he was from Okinawa, had been walking around Japan visiting shines along he road, as well as major centers of Buddhism like Koya San and Kyoto. I also learned that that day taht we had visited Koya San was the anniversary not of Kobo Daishi’s death, but the anniversary of the day he unites with Budda, this I gathered from our Japaneesy-English conversation. This piece of info made our meeting all the more spooky. I was happy to have met out new spiritual tour guide.

When we finally arrived at Okunoin, the man made sure that we made room in our group of three for one more, Kobo Daishi. He said that Kobo Daishi was with us, a member of our group. Rushed for time, we quickly ran to the rear of the massive shine/tomb to pay our respects. Following his example, we put our hands together and closed our eyes and repeated a chant. I still don’t know what we said… opened out eyes and again, we were jogging, this time to the bus station.

The man knew the cemetary like the back of his hand. Took us though the maze and dropped us off at the bus station with about 10 minutes to spare. We said out goodbyes and greeted him thanks for taking us to Okunoin. Our last image of him was that of his back as he sunk back into the thick darkness of the graveyard. We boarded out bus, then our train, then out bigger train, and then we were back in salaymanville. Back in Osaka, it was harder to picture the man in the stillness of the cemetary. Though we snapped pics all day, we failed to take a picture with Mr. Daishi himself. Hopefully I’ll get lost again sometime soon.

“Voilà! In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran, cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is a vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished. However, this valorous visitation of a bygone vexation stands vivified, and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin vanguarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition. The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta held as a votive, not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous. Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose, so let me simply add that it’s my very good honor to meet you and you may call me V.”