I originally wrote this piece for a different blog during my first year studying abroad in Kyoto in 2011-12.
Something unbelievable happened to me back in October. On my way back home after an afternoon shopping for clothes with a friend, I cycled past a small Buddhist shop. I noticed a strikingly beautiful Buddha statue in the shop window and stopped immediately. My friend had already gotten used to this habit of mine: suddenly stopping in the middle of the street without warning when I see something interesting. Pretty irresponsible when I think about it, but thus far nobody has died…
I entered the shop and thoughtlessly asked how much the statue was. The shop owner patiently explained to me that it was not for sale since it was a present given to him. I then remembered that for many Japanese Buddhists Buddha statues are not merely statues. They are considered to be living entities that must be treated with the utmost respect. Of course, one does not simply buy and sell them. I had perceived the statue as a pretty work of art that I could just go and buy. It was not that I really expected to be able to afford it, but I was curious how much someone would pay for one of those. Now I felt somewhat ashamed that I had bluntly asked for the price and had neglected the religious value attached to the statue.
While I was still thinking about this, the shop owner went to fetch the statue from the window. It was carved out of wood and had intricate details such as a necklace. To my great surprise the shop owner said that I could have it as a present since my karma must have allowed this meeting to happen; the meeting between that particular Buddha and me, that is. I hesitated whether to accept it or not. I had been culturally insensitive a moment ago. Was it socially acceptable for me to accept that statue? I was very interested in Buddhism, but I did not consider myself a Buddhist as such and I certainly did not believe that the statue in front of me was a living being. Nor did I believe that it was karma that had brought me to that place. Having these doubts I first had a conversation with the shop owner. He told me that I would be responsible for finding a proper place for the Buddha in my room. An alcove or a chest of drawers would be ideal. Incidentally, I had the only room in my dormitory that actually featured something resembling an alcove. The shop owner was visibly relieved to hear this. He went on to explain that this particular Buddha was the cosmic Sun Buddha Dainichi Nyōrai and had belonged to a Shingon Buddhist temple.
Shingon was the school of Japanese Buddhism I had been most interested in for a while because it appeared to be the most exotic. “Shingon”, literally ‘true word’, is a translation of “mantra”. Tantric practices like reciting mantras play a central role in the practice of Shingon Buddhism. Through these practices, one can deepen one’s experience of the world and thereby begin to grasp the mysterious depth of the universe. According to the founder of the school, Kûkai, the whole universe is permeated by the cosmic Buddha Dainichi Nyôrai, the statue in front of me. He is in everything and expresses himself through everything. Spiritual practices help one realize his presence. When I first read about Shingon Buddhism I was surprised to find out that this type of Buddhism is based on the belief in a cosmic ahistorical Buddha. It seemed somewhat removed from the practical more straightforward teaching of the historical Buddha Shakyamuni. If I were to picture the difference between the teachings of these two Buddhas, the historical Buddha would dwell in a simple building of stone whereas the cosmic Buddha would inhabit an elaborate building of black marble, decorated with ornaments and diamonds. It is easy to forget then that both teachings share the same goal: to end suffering through learning to deal with our desires.
That the statue in front of me had been created for the very type of Japanese Buddhism that I had been most interested in excited me. At this point, my desire to take the statue home clearly outweighed my doubts about whether I could accept it or not. I made up my mind to accept it. I could hear a sigh of relief from my friend who had followed the conversation and was getting impatient. The shop owner told me to take good care of the Buddha and explained that I should use a fine brush to clean the gold-coated socket of the statue. Fortunately, a brush was a good that could actually be bought. The shop owner saw us off in front of the shop. He noticed the Uniqlo bag in the basket of my bicycle – Uniqlo is the Japanese equivalent of H&M – and suppressed a smile. It was ironic indeed that after an afternoon of indulging in consumption I was given a Buddha statue as a present that symbolized the eradication of worldly desire. The shop owner stood at the entrance and kept watching us as we made our way back home by bike. He must have been worrying about whether I would treat the Buddha well.
Dainichi has been living with me for a few months now. In the beginning, I placed him in the centre of the alcove in my room, but that meant that he became the focal point of my room. When I woke up the first thing I would see was him shining in the morning sun. It was a beautiful sight but also slightly unnerving at times. I almost felt as if he was watching me. I eventually positioned him in the corner of the alcove at a 45-degree angle to the wall. There he is, quiet and barely noticeable. Quite fitting for a Buddha in a way, but I sometimes wonder if it was wrong to move him to the side. I am still not sure what to make of the idea that it was karma that allowed me to meet him. When I think back it is rather amazing that I noticed this small statue on this particular afternoon and recognized its beauty immediately; also that it was a Shingon statue and that I happened to have an alcove in my room to accommodate it. I wonder whether Dainichi will follow me back to England or whether he will choose a new owner once I leave Japan in late summer.