Last evening, just before shutting things down for the night, Yusuke told me a priest was coming in the morning.
“He’s going to exercise. You’re welcome to join us.”
I didn’t think that was particularly odd. Hibari Hostel has a nice courtyard and the priest would probably lead willing guests in a Qigong session, or something similar.
I told Yusuke to count me in, then asked for specifics about the exercise.
“No, no. He’s coming to do an exorcism.”
“Oh my,” I thought. Having been raised Catholic, I wondered who amongst us had evil spirits. And then wondered if there was any of us who didn’t.
Yusuke explained further:
“Hibari shut down for COVID. The owner decided to retire and sold to a friend and his wife. They reopened in April and secured a priest to do a purification.”
It all made sense, sort of.
Anyway, I adjusted my itinerary for the day, sketchy as it was, and arrived just as he started.
For ten minutes he chanted, in ancient Japanese I assumed,
then led us outside.
My room, “The Annex”, was first.
I wondered what the priest knew that I didn’t.
Next, we followed him upstairs, going room to room,
all the while he shook his white paper,
the thing Shinto’s call haraegushi.
A brief note about the Shinto purification ritual (Harae - 祓). Like Catholics, Shinto priests exorcise to cast out unwanted spirits. More commonly, though, Harae is a benevolent act, a blessing for people, places, and objects. I was told that in Japan it’s a big deal when a new car is purchased.
Anyway, with all the resident rooms purified, we returned downstairs and given a branch with green leaves and notes on white paper.
One by one we approached the altar,
bowed twice, clapped twice, bowed to the altar again, and then to the priest.
I was last. The assumption being, I suppose, that if I first watched the others I might get it right when it was my turn.
Afterwards I visited with the new owners,
a very nice couple.
Turns out the young priest is with the Matsuo-taisha Shrine. The same Shrine where the couple was married twenty years earlier.
After everyone was gone, I revisited my itinerary for the day, temporarily foregoing the Saihjo-ji Temple and replacing it with the Matsuo-taisha Shrine.
It took a while to get to the Shrine - the combination of bus, subway and train made it that.
Being late in the afternoon, most of the day’s visitors had left.
I stopped at the ticket booth
but the elderly man wouldn’t accept my yen.
“Too late. You visit for free.”
I asked if should go to the right.
“Sorry. No can go. Off limits.” And he pointed to the left.
Not knowing what I was missing, I was enamored with what I was allowed to see.
The care,
the craftsmanship,
the reverence.
It’s said that the Westerner can never fathom the Eastern mind.
I’m becoming convinced of that.
Too soon, a gong sounded, announcing it was time to leave. Returning to the entrance and the old man, I asked if I might take a quick photo of what was to the right, offering assurance that I wouldn’t enter.
He asked that I wait, left his assigned station, and gestured that I follow. We did in fact enter, and he took me to a place where I might stand in silence.
He then left, trusting me it seemed,
to enjoy without disturbing.
Not wanting to delay the kind man, or anyone else, I kept my visit brief.
On the way out,
I passed a priest returning from the outside world,
crossed over a bridge,
and paused to enjoy spring flowers,
everything numinous in its own way,
even the traffic.
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