Yokohama Chukagai: Adventures in Japan’s Chinatown
Posted: January 29, 2012 Filed under: Japan, Taoism, Travel | Tags: Chinatown, Yokohama 2 Comments »On the same day that I visited Sojiji Temple with “Johnl”, we had some time left over, but not enough to visit another temple, so John led me to Yokohama’s famous Chinatown called chūkagai (中華街). The name basically just means “China street” in Japanese, because 中華 is a commonly used word in Japanese to describe Chinese things such as Chinese food (chūryōri 中華料理) and so on, even though the name of China itself has changed many times over the years.
Anyway, Chukagai is fairly different in many ways to Shin Okubo and the Koreatown there. Where Shin-Okubo is kind of hip owing to the KPop craze, Chukagai has more of a traditional “Chinese” feel without the benefit of a pop-culture fad.1 However, it was also somewhat different than other “Chinatown” districts I’ve seen in Seattle, San Francisco and Vancouver, and I think this has to do with the less contentious history of immigration to Japan. Because Chinese immigrants suffered a lot of discrimination when they came to Western countries, the neighborhoods were neglected and relegated to undesirable parts of the city, while the experience in Japan seems to have been relatively smoother even during the Imperial era. Thus, Chukagai felt a lot friendlier and less intimidating than the Chinatowns I had seen in Seattle and Vancouver in particular, and certainly a lot safer.2
Chukagai is near Yokohama Bay and is pretty easy to miss if you don’t know where to look. We walked past a lot of old Western-style buildings until we noticed this gate:
Once you go past this gate, things change quite a bit. It’s like a hidden world inside of Yokohama’s business district:
As I said before, a lot of buildings have the more traditional (touristy) Chinese look, and it was interesting to hear people speaking Japanese but with a noticeable Chinese accent. We had already eating at Mos Burger, so we just picked up a nikuman instead:
Nikuman is short for “niku manju” I believe and is variation on Chinese-style buns, which often have vegetarian options too such as taro root rather than meat. After we ate, we took a left from the main street and came to a back alley:
…which led to this temple:
This temple, named Kanteibyō (関帝廟）, is a famous temple in Chukagai devoted to none other than the famous general Guan Yu, referred to as Guan Di Miao there. Most Westerners might recognize Guan Yu from the famous 16th century novel, Romance of the Three Kingdoms, or at least the computer games based off it, but in fact Guan Yu is a deeply loved character in Chinese culture. I’ve read elsewhere that many people pray to him in certain fields, such as police officers in Hong Kong. Either way, the temple and Guan Yu have served to unite the people of Chukagai for generations, and it was probably the first Chinese-style I’ve ever seen anyway. Quite a treat, really.
If you step through the gates you see this small shrine here:
I couldn’t take pictures of the main shrine just behind it, but it was pretty awesome. The temple is an interesting fusion of Japanese religious culture and Chinese religious culture. The grilled donation-boxes were very Japanese, but the incense sticks were larger and thicker and more Chinese style. Also, I overheard a tour-guide explaining to visitors that you were supposed to 3 incense sticks at a time, whereas at Japanese temples, it is usually only one.
The inner shrine, which you can see on the temple website by clicking on the blue cloud in the picture twice, also was quite interesting, and another fusion of Japanese-Chinese culture. It was bright red and adorned with a lot of gold color. You can see General Guan Yu there in the middle, with a deep red face and long beard, which is how he is often depicted in Chinese culture. The layout of the room though looked somewhat more similar to what I’ve seen in Japanese Buddhist temples, and to the right there is a statue of Kannon Bodhisattva, who is highly revered in both China/Japan among many other places.
You can also see me here ringing the gong near the entrance like a total tourist:
Thankfully a lot of us were doing it, so I didn’t feel too silly.
Suffice to say, I enjoyed the temple quite a bit. We lingered for a while in the area, buying up some good Chinese tea before we headed to the nearest train station, Motomachi-Chukagai, which looks really cool on the inside:
The high, rounded roof above is something I usually don’t see in train stations in Japan.
Yokohama is interesting in general because of its fusion of Chinese, Japanese and Western culture, but Chukagai in particular was a pretty cool place to visit, and certain worth a visit. As with Shin-Okubo, it’s really interesting to see how a major ethnic minority has adapted and thrived within Japanese society.
Thanks again, John!
P.S. Next post will be on my visit to Fukugawa, and meeting reader “Marcus” for the first time. 
1 That didn’t stop any shops at Chukagai from selling KPop stuff though. I found that really amusing. If there’s profit to be made, someone will find a way. :p
2 The point here isn’t to criticize the Chinese communities there, but to point out that history hasn’t been kind to them.
Leaving your mark upon Life
Posted: December 13, 2010 Filed under: Confucius, Religion, Taoism Leave a comment »Another bit of sagely advice from Confucius comes from the Analects of Confucius, book 16, verse 12, courtesy of Prof. Charles A.C. Muller’s online translation:
[16:12] Duke Ching of Qi had a thousand teams of horses, but when he died, there was nothing for which the people could praise him. Boyi and Shuqi died of starvation at the foot of Shouyang mountain, and the people praise them up till this day. What meaning can you glean from this?
Bóyí (伯夷, sounds like “boh yee”) and Shūqí (叔齐, sounds like “shoo chee”) were two legendary brothers from the ancient Shang Dynasty, who refused to take the crown out of principle. Instead, they sequestered themselves in mountain cave until they died of starvation.
The point that Confucius is making isn’t one about martyrdom. It’s about principle. There are plenty of people today who get rich through business, but after 30-40 years are utterly forgotten. In the dot-com boom in the 90′s plenty of people made money, but few are remembered anymore. Even when people are remembered, it’s usually not so much in a positive, but more matter-of-fact. The same of course applies to politicians and other people with power.
What distinguishes people in a positive way, and ensures their “immortality” in a sense is going against the grain of society for the sake of virtue and people’s welfare.
It reminds me of a certain quotation from the Dao De Jing (again courtesy of Prof. Muller):
The reason the river and sea can be regarded as
The rulers of all the valley streams
Is because of their being below them.
Therefore they can be their rulers.
So if you want to be over people
You must speak humbly to them.
If you want to lead them
You must place yourself behind them.Thus the sage is positioned above
And the people do not feel oppressed.
He is in front and they feel nothing wrong.
Therefore they like to push him front and never resent him.
Food for thought, fellow readers.
Living the Simple Life
Posted: November 29, 2010 Filed under: Buddhism, Confucius, Religion, Taoism Leave a comment »As faithful readers will no doubt have noticed, I read a lot. I read on the bus, read on my lunch break at work, I used to read in the car when Baby was one-year old and would take extended naps in her little carseat and I had nothing to do but to watch over her for a while. I read in bed, at my desk, on the “throne” and so on. I read a lot.
Yet in spite of that I don’t own an e-reader and have absolutely no intention of buying one. I prefer good old fashioned paper books because:
- Paper books require no batteries.
- Paper books are safe to drop.
- Paper books are too plain to be worth stealing.
- You don’t have to worry about digital rights; you can share with a friend.1
You get the idea. It’s the same with nice electronics, fancy cars and other valuable goods. They’re nice to have but introduce other burdens you didn’t have before. Oftentimes it’s not worth the extra burden.
It reminds me of a sagely quote from the Dao De Jing (Prof. Charles Muller translation):
[12] The five colors blind our eyes.
The five tones deafen our ears.
The five flavors confuse our taste.
Racing and hunting madden our minds.
Possessing rare treasures brings about harmful behavior.
Therefore the sage regards his center, and not his eyes.He lets go of that and chooses this.
The point being that the more we try to enrich our lives, the more we can make ourselves miserable and agitated.
Confucius also felt similarly:
[7:16] Confucius said: “I can live with coarse rice to eat, water for drink and my arm as a pillow and still be happy. Wealth and honors that one possesses in the midst of injustice are like floating clouds.”
(trans. Prof. Muller, Analects of Confucius)
If I could apply the same logic I do with books to the rest of my life, perhaps I would be happier with having less, and more simple, ordinary goods, than what I have now…
P.S. A great Japanese Buddhist poem on the subject can be found here.
P.P.S. Title of this post got messed up and replaced with another one due to a certain bug in the iPhone app that creeps up at inconvenient times.
1 Thanks to “Cherryblossom” for thinking of this one via Twitter.
The Trouble with Power
Posted: November 7, 2010 Filed under: Dune, Japan, Religion, Taoism Leave a comment »This is one of the last poems found in the Hyakunin Isshu anthology. I found it thought-provoking:
[93] 世の中は Yo no naka wa
つねにもがもな Tsune ni mo ga mo na
なぎさこぐ Nagisa kogu
あまの小舟の Ama no obune no
綱手かなしも Tsuna de kanashi mo
According to one translation this is read as:
If only our world
Could be always as it is!
How moving the sight
Of the little fishing boat
Drawn by ropes along the bank.
This poem was composed by the Kamakura no Udaijin (鎌倉の右大臣) meaning “the Minister of the Right in Kamakura”, which was the official title for Minamoto no Sanetomo in the Imperial Court. He was also the third Kamakura Shogun. Sanetomo was the last Minamoto Shogun before the Hojo Clan’s dominance of the family became absolute.
Sadly Sanetomo’s life was tragically cut short. While descending the great stairs at the Hachimangu Shrine in Kamakura, Japan, the same one photographed here by me in 2007:
His nephew hid behind a nearby Ginkgo tree (the same one on the right side of the photo, now much larger)1 and then stabbed him as he approached. The nephew was killed shortly thereafter and the Minamoto line came to an end, with the Hojo now firmly in control. However, as the poem shows above, even before his demise Sanetomo was already tired of power. He longed for the simple life of a fisherman, far apart from the nasty, cut-throat politics that surrounded his life from birth to ignoble death; his lineage was simultaneously his birthright as it was his prison.
It reminds me of an old quotation from the science-fiction novel, Dune Messiah (the second in the series), which I quoted previously:
Dune was a world of paradox now — a world under siege and yet the center of power. To come under siege, he decided, was the inevitable fate of power.
Although the novel is supposed to take place tens of thousands of years in the future, the problem remains the same: when you are in power, everyone wants to knock you down, exploit your power for their own ends, or stab you in the back. It is a wonder that anyone can stay sane in such an environment.
There is a famous Taoist story in The Zhuangzi that illustrates this point too:
Once, when Zhuangzi was fishing in the Pu River, the king of Chu sent two officials to go and announce to him: “I would like to trouble you with the administration of my realm.”
Zhuangzi held onto the fishing pole and, without turning his head, said, “I have heard that there is a sacred tortoise in Chu that has been dead for three thousand years. The king keeps it wrapped in cloth and boxed, and stores it in the ancestral temple. Now would this tortoise rather be dead and have its bones left behind and honored? Or would it rather be alive and dragging its tail in the mud?”
“It would rather be alive and dragging its tail in the mud,” said the two officials.
Zhuangzi said, “Go away! I’ll dray my tail in the mud!”
(trans. Burton Watson)
Better to enjoy your life as it is, and not add additional burden to it if you don’t need to.
1 The famous Ginkgo tree of Tsurugaoka Hachimangu Shrine blew down early this year, after staying up over 800 years, but thankfully restoration efforts are underway. Besides its age, the tree is obviously of great historical value.
Memories of Hanoi, part two: the Perfume Pagoda
Posted: October 20, 2010 Filed under: Buddhism, Taoism, Travel, Vietnam 2 Comments »Following my recent post about Hanoi, I wanted to show some pictures from my little adventure at the time to the famous Perfume Pagoda, or Chùa Hương in Vietnamese.1 As mentioned previously, I took these in 2001, with a cheap disposal camera (and overall lack of photography skills), so my memory is rusty and the pictures are not professional. The trip was part of our many excursions in Vietnam for us students who were part of the same program (another was Halong Bay where I caught a wicked flu or something tropical, but the island rock grottoes were amazing). For me it was in many ways my first real encounter with Buddhism and with the Bodhisattva Avalokitesvara (Kannon in Japanese, Quan Âm in Vietnamese) now that I reflect back on it years later. At that time, I knew nothing about Buddhism apart from a couple Zen books I had read, but had no experience actually going to a Buddhist temple, let alone seeing how other people actually follow it,2 so it was an eye-opening experience.
Anyway, the Perfume Pagoda, is a temple complex found to the south of Hanoi about two hours by car. There are five major roads that lead in and out of Hanoi the city, but as you leave the outskirts, things quickly turn rustic:
As it was a single one-lane dirt road, I remember our bus getting stuck behind a HUGE ox-cart full of crops ambling along the road at one point. Much of the northern Vietnamese countryside was a rolling series of villages and rice paddies, with the gorgeous mountains in the background, like one of those classical Chinese paintings:
I remember seeing small temples, and graveyards in the middle of fields sometimes, but otherwise endless paddy fields. At some point, we made our way to the first leg of our tour: the Yen River, or Suối Yến. The Perfume Pagoda cannot be accessed by road or path, one must hire one of the locals who can ferry you down the River in a small, iron boat:
The “river” is slow and shallow (according to my dictionary, Suối means “stream” anyway), at least when I went in June, but the intense heat from overhead with no shade took its toll. I came reasonably prepared and had already acclimated to the heat somewhat, but I remember getting a pretty good sunburn. The boat also was pretty small and barely able to hold me in (I am 6-foot tall, and somewhat heavy-set), so I was worried about falling at first. But the small lady who ferried me down the river was clearly an expert and I started to relax and enjoy the slow winding cruise. Still, I felt terrible she had to ferry someone heavy like me down such a long trip:
Along the river, there is a famous temple called the Đền Trình (sounds like “dayn cheen”) which means the Temple of Registration or Presentation. It’s a small, one-room temple on the shore where one can dock, and make an offering there. I don’t remember this too well, and somehow neglected to take a photo (or lost it), but I would encourage others to stop here anyways, and leave nice offering of incense. It helps set the mood of the pilgrimage if nothing else. People still call incense sticks “joss sticks”, but this sounds terribly antiquated to me considering how well-known they are now in Western culture. Anyway, the Vietnamese edition of Wikipedia has a nice photo of it.
Anyway, after leaving the temple we continued on the boat ride for another 20-30 minutes, and finally reached the shore. My exhausted pilot waited by the shore (presumably to catch her breath for a while), and I along with the other students ascended up the ancient stone stairs. Under the shade the trip was easier in some ways, but the steps are uneven and steep, and there are MANY of them. The Perfume Pagoda is not an easy climb, believe me. Anyway, after we starting climbing up, we soon came to a large complex:
Here my memory gets very fuzzy. I believe this is the Thien Tru Pagoda (Chùa Thiên Trù, sounds like “choo-ah tee-yen choo”) which is a large temple that blocks the road. One must ascend the steps and pass through the gate in the back before continuing up. We didn’t stay here too long either, but I remember the temple interior having many devotional figures toward the back and to the sides (the building has one wing on each side). Here’s a slightly closer view:
After this the trip up the trial gets long and steep. Along the route, there are many locals with small booths eager to sell food and drink, or carry your luggage. It was kind of frustrating at the time, as I was hoping for a quiet hike up but looking back, given the severe income disparity, I really can’t blame them. Plus, it was a quiet time of the year, so they probably just really wanted to make some extra money. Still, the stalls were all over the mountain, except when the climb got steeper, and I was dying from the strenuous climb. I was not in good shape then (no more than now…) and the constant stair climbing and 38-degree Celsius heat and humidity were just murder. I finally broke down and had some refreshments as I fell further and further behind the others in my group, while the poor guide had to keep coming back to check on me. :-/
Here’s what the view looks like about two-thirds of the way up. The stairs were narrow and steeper here and it was a bit quieter:
The mountains of northern Vietnam really are quite a sight to see. I remember reflecting on the fact that I was this dumb, naive American kid from Seattle in the middle of a sub-tropical jungle climbing an ancient temple that existed long before America ever did. The contrast was amazing. Sometimes I still can’t believe I was there.
Anyway, I managed to persevere and after getting lost on one trail, I managed to find my way to the top, the famous cave of Động Hương Tích. The Vietnamese edition of Wikipedia has a great photo of this, and another here. If memory serves, the stone in the middle was the altar to Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva, but after that long climb I was kind of crestfallen to see such a small altar. I did snap a small blurry photo:
I was also crestfallen to see a monk at the cave entrance playing board games with one of the locals too, which led my tour guide to tell us a story from his life when a local eminent monk he was interviewing for a college report tried to violate him when the two of them were alone. For reasons like that, he had given up on Buddhism, and I felt pretty disheartened hearing this. It wasn’t until a long while later, after having a pivotal chat with my wife, that I started to take an interest again.
Also, I didn’t know who Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva was at the time and wasn’t impressed by what I saw at the top. Since then, I’ve been on much less dramatic pilgrimages in places like Kyoto and Nara in Japan, but I’ve learned to appreciate more the importance of the journey more than the end-result, and so if I had a chance to go back I definitely would. I would love to view the Pagoda again with a more appreciative eye for religion, and Asian culture, and explore much of the things I missed early in the journey, in my rush to get to the top. I was too focused on the result, just as I do sometimes even now. Not to mention I’d lose some weight and get some exercise first before trying that again, as I am 10 years older now. :p
As for the problems with the Buddhist institutions in Vietnam, when I read about similar problems among clergy in the West, I am reminded that not everyone in robes has a good heart, and that organized religion is still a largely human institution with all its faults and foibles. I am reminded of a set of verses from The Dhammapada, where the Buddha teaches about what constitutes a true monk:
264. Not by shaven head does a man who is indisciplined [sic] and untruthful become a monk. How can he who is full of desire and greed be a monk?
265. He who wholly subdues evil both small and great is called a monk, because he has overcome all evil.
266. He is not a monk just because he lives on others’ alms. Not by adopting outward form does one become a true monk.
267. Whoever here (in the Dispensation) lives a holy life, transcending both merit and demerit, and walks with understanding in this world — he is truly called a monk.
268. Not by observing silence does one become a sage, if he be foolish and ignorant. But that man is wise who, as if holding a balance-scale accepts only the good.
As for me, I wonder if I hadn’t climbed that arduous trek up the mountain to see Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva, would I still tread the Buddhist path I do now? I don’t know the answer, but having years now to reflect on that trip, I don’t believe it was all in vain. As a verse from the Lotus Sutra chapter 2 says:
If someone with a confused and distracted mind
should take even one flower
and offer it to a painted image,
in time he would come to see countless Buddhas.
Or if a person should bow or perform obeisance,
or should merely press his palms together,
or even should raise a single hand,
or give no more than a slight nod of the head,
and if this were done in offering to an image,
then in time he would come to see countless Buddhas.
1 Vietnamese language has lots of tricky vowel sounds that don’t exist in English. The ơ, an “o” with a small hook, sounds like “uh” as in the word “done”. It’s also found in the excellent noodle-soup Phở. Anyone who calls to “foo” or “foh” has got it wrong. Imagine the “f-word” without the “ck” sound at the end, and you’re much closer! The ư is utterly absent in English. As my teacher once taught me in college, see “ooh” while smiling and that’s what it sounds like. The vowel combination ươ, which frequently appears in Vietnamese, is therefore a combination of the two, vaguely sounding like “oo-uh”, but again make sure you actually pronounce each letter right as there is a different “ooh” sound (“u” without a hook) too. Vietnamese is easy to read, but sure it hard to pronounce. :p
2 I think Western Buddhists can learn a lot about Buddhism by seeing how Asian Buddhists have incorporated it in their lives for so long, without getting themselves caught up in petty philosophical arguments and intellectual games. Too often we rely on books, and not enough on living it. I learned a lot from my wife, who’s Japanese, about that. Readers who are Westerners living in Asia may or may not agree with this, but a recent article on Prapañca online Buddhist journal eludes to this too.
Solving a Chinese restaurant mystery
Posted: October 10, 2010 Filed under: China, Japan, Religion, Taoism, Vietnam 6 Comments »This is something that’s frequently piqued my interest, but I had nowhere to turn to solve this little mystery. In Chinese and Vietnamese restaurants here in the US, and certainly elsewhere, you’re likely to see an altar like this one:
For a long time, I could never figure out what this was. English websites on “Chinese altars in restaurants” reveal almost nothing. It’s assumed I guess that most Westerners either don’t care, or the cultural subtleties are too hard to explain. But a nerd like me doesn’t give up. I took a couple photos from my camera phone when no one was looking and spent an evening piecing things together.
Based on some Google searches, and translations from Chinese, the Chinese characters read vertically from right to left, or left to right here:
五方五土龍神
前後地主財神
Which are read in modern Mandarin as:
wǔfāng wǔtǔ lóngshén
qiánhòu dìzhǔ cáishén
Which in English (very roughly) means:
The five dragons of the earth,
The Landowner God of Wealth from beginning to end [wealth?]
According to one Chinese website, these are always placed so that they face the door, and provide protection for shop-owners and such. I have noticed this frequently on the many Vietnamese and Chinese restaurants in the area, so it seems similar to the Japanese maneki neko in bringing in luck, or the American tradition of hanging up the first dollar bill.
But who are the two fellows in the shrine? That I haven’t figured out, but just by appearance alone, they do bear a strong resemblance to a couple of the Seven Luck Gods or shichifukujin (七福神) in Japanese religion, which in turn are mostly imported figures from the mainland. A good illustration of what they look like can be seen here. The elderly fellow on the left looks like Fukurokuji, which as Wikipedia states is an imported figure from Chinese Taoist myth of the Three Star Gods. The fellow on the right looks vaguely like Daikokuten or maybe another one of the Three Star Gods. Either way, wealth and long-life seem to be the theme of this happy little shrine.
There’s nothing too surprising to see here, but I felt this post might be a useful reference others. You can see how East Asian popular religious beliefs are pretty syncretic in nature, and like popular religion everywhere, deal with ways to assist with practical issues in people’s lives. What I find interesting is the cultural expression of each.
There’s Religion and Then There’s Religion
Posted: October 3, 2010 Filed under: Buddhism, China, Confucius, Japan, Religion, Taoism 5 Comments »While reading Professor Yao’s book which provides an overview of Confucianism, I was struck by one section with grappled with the question: is Confucianism a religion or a code of ethics? What struck me with this section, is how Professor Yao’s research shows that even the trying to define what “religion” is differs widely in the Asian context than it does in the Western one. As he writes on page 40:
One of the many difficulties in defining Confucianism as a religion is that the term ‘religion (zōng jiào 宗教)’ has quite a different resonance in Chinese than in a western language. If in English, the term ‘religion’ often carries, along with its descriptive meanings, a commendatory implication of ‘devotion, fidelity or faithfulness, conscientiousness, pious, affection or attachment’ (The Oxford English Dictionary, 2nd Edition, vol. 13: 569), in Chinese, the word that refers to religion is primarily suggestive of superstitions. A religion is regarded as a superstructure which consists of superstitions, dogmas, rituals and institutions (Fung, 1961:3)
Already you can see a notable difference. In my conversations with my wife, whose Japanese, I get the same sense from her as well with regard to religion. To her, when she thinks of the world ‘religion’, the first things that come to mind are often cult groups like the Aum Shinrikyo and certain pseudo-Buddhist cult groups in Japan I don’t want to mention by name. Superstitions come to mind to her as well. But this is not limited to her either, based on other conversations in the past with Japanese, Chinese and other friends. Religion carries a less “pious” tone and a more dogmatic or ritualistic one, in other words. Normally, a decline in traditional religion in Japan and other places gets blamed on post-WWII culture and modernization, but it may also be that some Western researchers have been asking the wrong questions and may well be misinterpreting trends there. Or maybe it’s just that the situation is more complex than people appreciate. But then again, this is just speculation.
So where does that leave such great traditions as Confucianism, Buddhism and such, who do not fit the Western model very well, but are still an important part of Asian culture (and increasingly the West)? Professor Yao elaborates further:
The modern Chinese use a term [for religion] coined by combining two characters, zōng and jiào, which originally meant ‘ancestral’ and ‘teaching/doctrine’. In the mind of the ancient Confucians, there were two kinds of teaching. Those transmitted from ancient times by sages are considered to be noble and orthodox, encouraging people to be good and sincere, to be filial to their ancestors and parents. When these teachings are corrupted or misused, they become associated with superstitions, involving belief in miracles, strange powers, reincarnation and so forth. They believe that noble doctrines are those by great sages like Confucius, Lao Zi and Shakyamuni the Buddha, while the depraved teachings were evident in popular Daoism, popular Buddhism and folk cults. When ‘religion’ is identified with the theories and practices of the latter, it enjoys the respect of few [Asian] scholars. (pg. 41)
To some degree though I think this is true in the West as well especially in the modern age. Things like faith healings, money miracles, and such may make other Christians somewhat uneasy in the same way.
After I wrote the first draft of this post though, it took extra meaning for me while attending a certain Buddhist temple I know well here. We brought our little one to register at the Buddhist Sunday school for another year, and then had coffee with friends and fellow temple members at a parental round-table. The discussion at one point diverged into a subject about Buddhism in Japan (not too surprising really), but somehow devolved into a discussion about how superstitious Japanese culture is, and further how Shinto has somehow corrupted this. I was fuming because I know both of those people, fellow converts like me and respected in the temple, and I assumed they would know better than to make such misguided statements, or badmouth other people’s religious traditions. My wife, who is Japanese heard all this and was floored, but in typical Japanese stoicism, said nothing. The problem, for me, was that neither one of them knew what they were talking about with regard to Japanese religion, because they were defining so obviously in Western terms of what religion is, just like something Professor Yao would have described above.
Worse, to me, badmouthing anything in a Buddhist temple like that seemed in especially poor taste too. That was the final straw in a way, so we’ll see if I go back ever again,1 or at least come back armed with some textual sources and a good tirade next time. Maybe I’ll bring along Professor Yao’s book.
1 As mentioned previously, I am feeling less than invested in the Buddhist community around here for reasons like this, and among many others. I doubt it’s a fight I really want to fight anymore, assuming I even had the time. Buddhism in Asia may have its issues, but Buddhism in the West just seems like a shoddy, half-baked version of it, and I don’t know think I want to fight that tide any longer. There are some wonderful and brave people in the Western community who stick with it, but for me, I’ve just given up.
Am I Buddhist Anymore? A Brief Socratic Dialogue
Posted: September 26, 2010 Filed under: Buddhism, Confucius, Religion, Shinto, Taoism 7 Comments »(Because Socratic Dialogues are more fun, and otherwise this post would sound too whiny. Plus this was inspired by a funny sign someone at work made a few months back which I took a photo of. Enjoy! )
Hiero: Hey Doug, is it me or is the Buddhist content on your blog getting a little thin lately?
Doug: Yeah, it has hasn’t it? To tell you the truth, I’ve been having some big changes in my life lately so I guess I haven’t been thinking about it much.
Hiero: What happened?
Doug: Well, you see I changed jobs. I work for the same big company I did before, and I am happy to stay, but I decided to transfer to an entirely new department and a somewhat different role after 4 years in the old one.
Hiero: Sounds stressful.
Doug: Sure has been. The new job is super busy and I am still transitioning, so I guess I am even more busy now than I was before. Funny thing is though, my stress level has gone down a lot in recent months and I feel happier than before.
Hiero: How is that possible?
Doug: Well, I liked my old job in many ways, but I was unsatisfied with the kind of work I did there, and I never felt I measured up. I guess it just wasn’t for me. In my new job, I feel it suits me better and I have more control over my situation, thus I feel more satisfied at the end of the day.
Hiero: Well that’s good to hear, but what’s that got to do with Buddhism, Batman?
Doug: Well, about the time I took the new job, I realized right away that the change had been good for me. I also started to having less and less interest in Buddhism. When I went to Japan in April, saw Nara, Kyoto and the sites of Tokyo, I was deeply inspired, but as I came back, the struggle to maintain the Buddhist path got harder and harder. I felt no connection anymore with the local Buddhist community which felt entirely different than what I experienced in Japan, and just kept slipping up in my personal practice: meditation, nembutsu, studying, whatever. I used to really get distraught over this.
Hiero: So why the change?
Doug: Because at my new job, I became too busy to think about such things. I have work that is challenging and engaging, so it forces me to focus on the here and now rather than wasting internal brain cycles on overblown issues in that are all in my mind.
Hiero: That’s it? Kind of anticlimactic, don’t you think?
Doug: No, even more importantly, I started to really look at Buddhism in a more critical way. Not negative, but really evaluating the fundamentals of Buddhism with a more detached objective view. It started when I began researching Neo-Confucian thought in Edo Period Japan, and its comparatively rational approach to issues as it competed with Buddhism at the time. The rational yet spiritual approach really got me thinking about my Path all these years, the constant reading, straining and contrived practices to attain spiritual happiness. All that work and energy was just a way to help me forget the feelings of dissatisfaction in life, but made it worse in a way.
Hiero: So you’re an atheist then?
Doug: Far from it. I just really started to appreciate the rational, down to earth side of religion a lot more than I did in the past. I guess I never realized that religion can be spiritually fulfilling and down-to-earth and rational. I think this is why I began to entertain doubts with respect to the Pure Land Path in Buddhism over the past months, and focused more on some of the more fundamental Buddhist teachings I had neglected over time.
Hiero: So you’re a Buddhist then?
Doug: Not so fast, Hoss. After a suggestion from a friend online about re-reading a wonderful book by Ven. Walpola Rahula titled What the Buddha Taught, I realized there were certain fundamentals of Buddhism I was still uncomfortable with, particular the cycle of rebirth and the layperson/monastic dichotomy. I took inspiration in the Buddhist text, the Kalama Sutta and its open approach to religious discourse, but on the other hand, to me it sounds a little like Pascal’s Wager which doesn’t really prove anything. On the other hand, if you carefully read the Kalama Sutta is does provide a good well-grounded approach to religion that I do find inspiring. On the other hand, I feel lately that Buddhism can be pretty aloof, dour and difficult to practice in the kind of environment I am in. Nor do I want to get tangled up in the petty and pompous culture that pervades Buddhist institutions in the West. If I hear the word progressive Buddhism one more time, I think I will cry. I’ve just had enough.
Hiero: So you’re not a Buddhist then?
Doug: Well, I realized that while some things make me uncomfortable, there were some things about Buddhism I still found deeply inspiring. I do believe in the Buddha’s notion of impermanence along with the Buddha’s explanation of the conditioned-arising of phenomena, and so on. Fact is, when I think about Kannon Bodhisattva for example, I can’t help but smile. I found myself randomly doing that while walking home from work recently. That goes double for Shakyamuni Buddha. Lately, I feel like I understand him better than I did before, and it makes me appreciate him more than I did before. Meanwhile, a small statue of Shakyamuni Buddha still sits happily on my bookshelf and every so often, I look at it, feel inspired and recite the old Pali-language prayer namo tassa bhagawato arahato samma-sangbuddhasa (phonetically speaking here) as homage. Maybe in a way, I am more Buddhist now than I was in the recent past. I really don’t know.
Hiero: So…. what are you then?
Doug: Good question. I haven’t figured that out. I have no desire to go to any Buddhist temple in my area, nor really engage with the online community. I guess I am tired of the petty politics and all the baggage that comes with organized religion and the silent pressure of conformity. Frankly, I don’t feel inspired to write about it either, and may not do so for a while, who knows? Every time I do lately, it feels forced and not really fun anymore. At the same time, I’ve taken a lot of inspiration from Chinese Confucian and Taoist teachings as of late. I am reading about Confucianism a lot now, as well as the writings of Zhuangzi the Taoist and the occasional book on Shintoism too. I find these more down-to-earth and easier to apply in my life as it is now. So maybe I am more of a Confucianist, or a Taoist, or maybe just a Buddhist who needed a good break for a while to clear his head. Right now, I just don’t feel like I need Buddhism for spiritual comfort or guidance like I did before. It’s been a part of my life for years now, and had a big influence on me, but I am not so sure now it will continue to be in my future.
Hiero: Sounds confusing and kind of miserable, doesn’t it?
Doug: On the contrary, in the last month or so I feel happier and more “ok” than I did in a long, long time. Sure, I’m not perfect, but I feel like I stopped trying to measure up to something unattainable and lofty, and just making myself feel miserable and inferior in the process. I learned to appreciate a more rational, pragmatic approach to religion and Confucianism in particular inspired me to make the mundane things in my life more sacred rather than trying to abandon them and tune out in a kind of mental retreat. Just as I changed jobs to something more suited to me, maybe all I needed to do was change my religious perspective a little.
Hiero: So what does the future hold?
Doug: Good question. The blog stays, and I doubt will change much other than a quiet shift in topics. I want to restore a balanced approach I did when the blog first started and continue exploring various subjects. Naturally of course, I want to give readers something to think about it but be fun too.
Hiero: Er, I was talking about your personal life.
Doug: Oh, that. That’s still a work in progress. The “mental debate” I had a few months back didn’t really peter out as I thought it would. Instead, it’s evolved into a nice laid-back exploration of the wonderful teachings found across Asia, and finding something that suits my life and my temperament. Since I can’t change my life right now to suit religious pursuits, I need to figure out how to adapt religious teachings to my life as it is. Truth is, I love Buddhism but I also love the other teachings as well.
Hiero: Don’t people in Asian cultures find a way to balance them in their lives?
Doug: True. Western religion tends to be an all-or-nothing approach, which can be limiting, while Asian culture does seem to blend and synthesize various schools of thought more readily. But then again I also am a big believer in doing one thing and doing it well (which is mentioned in the writings of Zhuangzi oddly enough), so there’s something to be said in exploring one tradition fully enough to appreciate it. Tasting many tiny samples of ice cream is not the same as having a nice bowl of your favorite flavor, that is once you decide which flavor you actually want of course. I definitely do not want to label myself as a “spiritual shopper” though as that just usually means someone’s being wishy-washy or non-comittal, but I do feel like a change of pace is badly needed in my life and has been a breath of fresh air.
Hiero: Speaking of ice cream, let’s stop with the abstract and whiny talk about religion and go eat.
Doug: That sounds like a great plan. Let’s go.
The End
Confucius and the Two Recluses
Posted: August 22, 2010 Filed under: Buddhism, Confucius, Philosophy, Religion, Taoism Leave a comment »Recently, among other things, I’ve been enjoying a read of Tsai Chih-Chung’s comic rendition of the Analects of Confucius. For those not familiar, he is a very famous Taiwanese comic artist who is best known for making Chinese classics in modern comic form while retaining their ancient beauty. The book above is a collection of better known sayings from the Analects including this story below, translated by Prof. Charles Muller:2
[18:6] Zhangzuo and Jieni were working together in the fields when Confucius was passing by. He sent Zilu to ask them where he could ford the river. Zhangzuo said, “Who is that holding the carriage?”
Zilu said, “It is Confucius”
Zhang said, “The Confucius of Lu?”
“Yes.”
“Well, if that’s the case, then he knows the ford.”
Zilu then asked Jieni who said, “Who are you?”
“I am Zilu.”
“The follower of this Confucius of Lu?”
“Right.”
Jie said, “Disorder, disorder throughout the realm! And who can change it? Rather than following a shi [士 master?] who avoids people, you should follow one who escapes from the world!” With that, he went back to his hoeing and wouldn’t stop.
Zilu went back and reported this to Confucius. Confucius sighing, said, “I can’t form associations with the birds and beasts. So if I don’t associate with people, then who will I associate with? If the Way prevailed in the realm, I would not try to change anything.”
I guess what intrigues me about this story is Confucius’s refutation of the recluse life. For those of us interested in Asian Religion, we often carry in our minds a kind of romanticized ideal of the quiet recluse, not just in Taoism, but also to some degree in Buddhism, but this can be misleading.
Buddhism is a complex religion, and even in the Buddha’s time, there were a variety of disciples, and even a variety of bhikkhus (monks): forest monks who mastered renunciation, city monks who specialized in education, etc, etc. So, Buddhism is not simply a reclusive religion, but has that aspect for those who wish to pursue for legitimate reasons.
As with Buddhism, there is a strain of reclusive thought as well in Taoism, though Zhuangzi in his writings takes recluses to task as well. Nevertheless, the image persists of the mysterious Taoist sage in the mountains, both in the West and in Asian culture, nevermind that Zhuangzi had a wife, kids and a home, and the fact that he was clearly a well-read and literate person. 
But, somehow I find that Confucius’s practical statement about “forming associations with people, not birds and beasts” is a good point. As much as we like to decry society for its ills, and no matter how the reclusive life seems tempting, the fact of the matter is is that we need one another and we can’t all be recluses. Instead of selfishly withdrawing from the world just because we don’t like it,1 we can first change ourselves and how we react to it (i.e. self-cultivation) and then help make the world a better place.
I am also reminded of something Rev. Tagawa wrote, covered in the Fall 2009 Ohigan post about the minor recluse living in the woods, and the superior recluse living among people. Life cannot be escaped, no matter how much we try, so instead, we simply have to change how we deal with it, like it or not.
P.S. I also like the character of Confucian disciple Zilu, as portrayed by Tsai Chih-Chung, due to his background as a hot-headed military person not much younger than Confucius, but he gradually transforms into a noble guardian and able governor.
1 Temporary retreats and training notwithstanding, of course.
2 A quick note on pronunciations. The name “Zhangzuo” sounds like Jahng-zwo, while the name “Jieni” almost sounds like Jenny. Confucius’s disciple Zilu sounds Tsih-loo.
The Trouble with Superstition
Posted: July 28, 2010 Filed under: Buddhism, Japan, Literature, Taoism 1 Comment »Today, I wanted to share yet another good passage I found from the 13th century Japanese text, the Essays in Idleness by Kenkō. This deals with the notion of superstition, using the example of the Six Days, but this could apply to others such as Yakudoshi, horoscopes and such:
[91] The yin-yang teachings [e.g. Taoism] have nothing to say on the subject of the Red Tongue Days [shakkō 赤口, one of the Six Days]. Formerly people did not avoid these days but of late—I wonder who was responsible for starting this custom—people have taken to saying such things as “An enterprise begun on a Red Tongue Day will never see an end” or “Anything you say or do on a Red Tongue Day is bound to come to naught: you lose what you’ve won, your plans are undone.” What nonsense! If one counted the projects begun on carefully selected “lucky days” which came to nothing in the end, there would probably be quite as many as the fruitless enterprises begun on the Red Tongue Days…Good or ill fortune is determined by man, not by the day. (trans. Donald Keene)
Kenkō is a Buddhist monk, and well-versed in the notion of karma, but I think he also points to two important points:
- Karma and “fortune” are determined by us. We are responsible for our own fate.
- Superstitions seem real until you apply wisdom to them.
Elsewhere he relates a story about an Ox:
[206] Once when the Tokudai minister of the right was chief of the Imperial police, he was holding a meeting of his staff at the middle gate when an ox belonging to an official named Akikane got loose and wandered into the ministry building. It climbed up on the dais where the chief was seated and lay there, chewing its cud. Everyone was sure that this was some grave portent, and urged the ox be sent to a yin-yang diviner. However, the prime minister, the father of the minister of the right, said, “An ox has no discrimination. It has four legs—there is nowhere it won’t go. It does not make sense to deprive an underpaid official of the wretched ox he needs in order to attend court.” he returned the ox to its owner and changed the matting on which it had lain. No untoward events of any kind occurred afterwards.
They say if you see a prodigy [portent] and do not treat it as such, its character as a prodigy is destroyed.
Wisdom and good conduct are indeed the highest blessings one can have from the Buddhist perspective. Superstitions have no power apart from what you give them.
P.S. Was not intending a double-post today, but got the scheduling kind of confused. Enjoy anyway!
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