TAKEDA JINJA

Mentally and emotionally, walking became my therapy.  I could meet people along the way, and sometimes get sidetracked and have some tea with them. Or I would find my favorite sights, and I visited them daily if I could.  I followed my street past the fruit shop, clothes shops, bookstore, and office and school supply shop, and past a tea shop.   

Someone told me if I went far enough I would find Takeda Jinja (shrine).  I saw a very old styled torii (entrance) and entered a walled courtyard.  Well, it looked pretty old, there was lots of moss and stone steps were placed throughout and it was quite lovely, except for a line of clothes hanging out.  Shrine or private residence?  Yes, my mistake and I was out of there!  That had been embarrassing, but I never found out if anyone had seen me or not.  In fact, it was old but it was a former samurai residence that was still being used as a home.

 

The entrance to the old samurai house that I mistook for the shrine.  Oops!   

Then I turned the corner and walked about 3 blocks further.  There was no mistaking the shrine.  There was a huge torii, centuries old trees, and three or four old wooden buildings, including an open-floored one that was the actual shrine.  Beautiful woodland with large stone markers lined worn paths where the ancestors of many families had walked before them.  

                            Wow, Takeda Jinja.  Jinja means shrine.  I found it.

Two of several of the other buildings near the main building of the shrine itself.

 

At the shrine, through hundreds of visits that were to come, I would stand back, unobtrusively taking pictures of the Shinto priest, blessing babies, and blessing cars to safely carry their passengers.  The blessing was accomplished with some chanting and waving a banner of pieces of pure white paper that flapped and chased away evil.  In time this priest would give his blessing when my older son and his fiancée held a Japanese wedding ceremony there.  Little did I know my future or theirs as I walked so many miles through that place, and I began to answer some questions about myself.

Along the path, the Inishie no michi (Road of the Samurai), the stone markers commemorated the Shimadzu clan that controlled the area more than 500 years ago. The path led up a hill parallel to the road below and then went back away from the road to other types of stone markers and two large stone koma inu (guardian lion dogs).  If you have seen Chinese or Japanese filmed movies you will have seen these.  They are formidable, but they are supposed to protect the place, so I would regard them with respect and walk beyond to an ancient garden with a stone terrace that showed centuries of wear. It was crumbling, damp, and dark as it was covered overhead with tall trees.  Moss grew everywhere.  Old camellias and azaleas bloomed there in season. There was also a pond with lilies and frogs.  Sometimes I saw mothers with children walking through, but often I walked alone.  It took months of walking, and then I wrote this poem to contribute to the ALTs “Monthly Eruption”.

Free Woman

The houses lay neatly in a row,

The street warmed from the lights within.

My heart filled with love for him.

I ached to be inside one of the homes,

With my lover, together as man and wife.

Or did I?

My dream was out of focus,

The picture would not come.

I could not see us contentedly

Entwined in front of the glowing fire.

The relationship ended, swiftly, harshly,

Bottomed out, burned out.

As I walked amidst the moss-covered stone lanterns,

The truth whispered from the shadows.

It was not he that was not focused on the hearth.

I chose to walk alone.

 

 

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