🌸 Noire Henro-san: The Lower Bunk

Walking the path gives me time to think about the changes that I face growing older. I look forward to the physical, mental and spiritual transformations that challenge me. Well, most of the time. When my feelings rise up, I try to figure out why. If the power push ups or squats that I did without pain or hesitation twenty years ago escape me, I do them in a gentler way. You see, I’ve accepted that getting older or being considered elderly is a privilege. I am not afraid of changing or altering my life to fit my age.

Not one human on earth can change the eventuality of death. I do not know how much time I have left, but I am trying to enjoy my life on this planet. There are many people, some that I loved, who can no longer do that.

For those struggling in midstream, in great fear of the flood, of growing old and of dying for all those I say, an island exists where there is no place for impediments, no place for clinging: the island of no going beyond. I call it nirvana, the complete destruction of old age and dying.

– Gautama Buddha

The farmhouse

After I left Zentsu-ji temple, I acknowledged to myself that I was not walking the Mairi path in order. I visited and finally left temple 75, not temple 71 as I planned. Now I was heading to my accommodation, a farmhouse. Luckily, it was situated in the midst of at least four upcoming temples on the path. My thoughts centered on getting to the house first, then spending time plotting a strategy for the next few days.

The farmhouse was embedded in a nice farm community outside Zentsuji town. I registered two days before and checked in online. This is a convenient way to vet a host and for them to vet you. Some personal information, required to be passed along to the Japanese government, helps a host determine your eligibility for certain privileges. The process enables the host to approve the reservation, provide a key code and instructions, process any requests due to age or infirmity, and confirm that you are, in fact, ohenro.

Claiming space

A request that I always make for my accommodations is for a lower bunk, if possible, in a dorm room. This way, I don’t have to climb a hard bunk ladder in my soft bare feet. So far, if the place is not filled up or sold out, I am always graciously granted my request.

It is a most welcome option offered to people like me – if we want it – on Shikoku path as on the camino in Spain,

I found the farmhouse, at last, by looking down and noticing this sign. Already, I passed it once before backtracking on the nearby road.

Laughing to myself, I walked to the side door and followed the instructions given to me to gain entry.

Once inside, I parked my walking stick and shoes in the foyer. In my socks, I walked across the tatami matted common room and found the dorm hall. The place was quiet. No one was around.

All of the doors were closed, so I walked back to the foyer to check my room assignment.

Identification please

Then, I went back and knocked on the door. A Japanese man opened it. I said that I was assigned a bed in the room. He did not believe it and told me so. He kept shaking his head and gesturing with his hands…no. Granted, we had a bit of trouble communicating because of language.

During our “conversation”, I walked to the bed assigned to me and told him that this was mine. He said that the lower bunk was not mine. I responded that I reserved and confirmed the reservation with the owner/host. My name was written on a note clipped to the privacy curtain. Still, he would not accept that it was my bed. He stated that the lower bunk was for an elderly henro. Amused, I told him that I was the elderly henro.

I thought to myself, who is this person? He was not the host, nor was he the owner. But it seems that he appointed himself the keeper of the room…. and determiner of my age.

You know what?

He would not believe me. I showed him the photo that the host sent me of the bed. She even provided all the towels and linen for my stay, which was three days. He responded, elderly, elderly. He pulled out his phone to “make a call”. I don’t know who he was calling. I hoped that he was not trying to intimidate me.

In the meantime, I recognized another Japanese henro that I had spoken to at a number of temples and on the path. He stayed silent during the exchange. Then I remembered that I had seen both of them on the path and at the guesthouse near temple 66. Finally, that henro told his friend to back off.

He did, begrudgingly. I know he was confused about my claim of being an elderly ohenro on the path. Unfortunately, we did not get a chance to talk. They left early the next morning. I believe he was embarrassed. I felt bad about that. However, I had no desire to spend a whole lot of time convincing anyone that I was almost as old as Methuselah! 🌸

Settling in

So I brought my backpack inside and settled my apparently not so elderly body in my bunk.

The men were already settled in the room and had filled their personal racks with their things. I hung my hat to claim my rack and bunk. Then I rested for a moment.

The farmhouse was clean and well-equipped. There was another sitting room, nice showers, and a kitchen.

Time to utilize them all for cleaning myself up, eating, and finally sleeping.

I had a restful night.

Back on the path

The nearest temple was temple 74. I decided that I would work backwards from there and visit the other temples along the way to temple 71. Then I could resume my walk from there to temple 76 and beyond. I had three days to do it from my base at the farmhouse.

So, walk with me.

74 Koyama-Ji

Temple Of The Helmet Mountain

Nearby, Kukai completed a reservoir that saved the towns and people in the area. Continuing periods of drought and desert-like conditions devastated the land and important rice crops. Kukai managed the building of the reservior to control water and assure rice harvesting to this day.

The main gate.

This is the temple fountain. It is larger than the others at temples I’ve visited on the path, except for the trough at Zentsu-ji.

The inner gate.

Main hall.

The bell tower.

Protector of lost children’s souls.

Tamonten-do Hall, nestled into the mountain.

Daishido

Up in the rafter.

Decoration detail on a roof. It looks like a jumping rabbit.

Kukai.

Another view of the main hall.

Lucky rabbit

A stone rabbit surrounded by prayer ribbons for luck or easy childbirth. Contrasting western lore of a man on the face of the moon, the Japanese see a rabbit.

On to the next temple.

See you next time.

Baadaye and Mata Ne (またね)

Shirley J ♥️

Listen: Older by George Michael

This and several posts this summer will chronicle my pilgrimage in Japan where I am walking the 1200 kilometer-long Shikoku 88 temple pilgrimage. Read my announcement here.

T74