Shrines

Beginning with Nepal, there have been shrines everywhere Pa and I have visited - Buddhist, Hindu, Taoist, and now Shinto. But there’s something different about the shrines in Japan. They’re more numerous for sure. And their appearance unique to the Shinto tradition. But it’s more than that, though I couldn’t put my finger on it for a while.

What I’ve come to realize is that Shinto, its shrines and temples its obvious manifestations, is part of daily life here. Despite modernization, Shinto is in the blood. It’s in the manner of eating and dress, in respect for ancestor, elder, family and other.

And the shrines, they’re not relics. They are where so many go - and not just the older generation - to pray, petition, lay down one’s burdens, to be healed.

It’s fascinating, and moving, to watch from a distance when a believer approaches a shrine. It’s with reverence and humility. And with the intention to be transformed, at least in the moment.

There are shrines

nearly small enough to take with you.

Those neighbors tend to

and honor.

Shrines along the roadside

that invite you in,

to look around

and get acquainted.

Others, like the shrine to Dake,

that pull you in

to an aesthetic,

so Japanese,

so Shinto,

that the world is different when you leave.

And then there are those of a different kind, primordial you might say.

The path may look the same for a while, but as it narrows,

and the signs become unintelligible,

you begin to realize you’re in the realm of the impersonal where no mere structure will be there to greet you.

You approach with reverence,

as with the others,

and you look back,

and a hand reaches out,

which you grasp, and you realize you’re in a shrine or cathedral

only nature could construct.

And that’s not all,

and you cross over,

for all things have a source,

and isn’t it our task to seek that place of calm water,

of myth and mystery,

who’s depths can’t be plunged

but which have their own source,

which you know you’ll never find,

but isn’t that the journey.