Yesterday, I traveled with my students to Kamakura, in the Kanagawa Prefecture, our equivalent of the province. That was our second day in Tokyo, after the sedate urban life of Nagoya, and I was attempting to show them-in a very old fashioned way-how in a country different time zones and generations can find themselves linked to each other. Tokyo, with its post-modern structures and sensibilities that go beyond the so-called zen is never really separate from the villages of this seaside city of Kamakura, the seat of warrior culture, the site of everything that makes Japan cinematic, anime-based, romantic and exotic to the point of combustion.
Kamakura with its tram car connecting to the rapid trains coming from central Tokyo has always been a favorite. The stories behind this place is the stuff that makes history charming and can fill pages of scripts about the life of the samurai, that warrior who did not fear death because every time he stepped out to work, he was ready to die for his master. How could one fear death when one was already dead through that famous code called the Bushido?
For one with a keen imagination, a department store connecting to a small train, which brings people to the oldest part of the city, is enough to ruin a pure image of the Kamakura Period. And yet, for one with a greater imagination, no technology is strong enough to take away from this place its elegant self-effacing ways. If you want a comparison, think of Kyoto with its flamboyant colors - vermillion, blues, oranges, reds - and all the ornate colors in between. Kamakura is, from the uninitiated, drab, and dark.
But then again, this was the place where the warriors retreated in the spiritual sense. There was distraction in old Heian; there was the need to construct a place where the way of the Sword.
"Sawaranai de..." the voice of the lady at the counter was almost admonishing one of my students who was touching the blade of the sword. Please don't touch it. We were in this old store that lured us in because outside there were on display swords from different countries. The treasure of the house though was inside, in the replicas of swords used by samurai of yore. Slightly cheaper were the swords that were meant to be used as décor. Expensive were those used for training. The swords were no toys. Their blade, perhaps, was not as strong as those used in the 15th century but they were swords. The lady then asked to which country were we bringing this o-mocha or toys. Philippines. Ah, Hirippin. Let me say. She went to the counter to look at the list. Okay, she assured us. Our country, following the lady's assurance, would allow swords to be brought in. I wanted to assure her in return that our country is notorious for allowing just anything in.
Buying a sword did not fit well with our destination, or at least, where we came from. We just stepped out of the compound of the Great Buddha of Kamakura. It was a personal mission of mine to bring the students there. The image was one of my first exposures to the power of a great religion, Buddhism, when I first saw it more than thirty years ago. Up to now the Great Buddha of Kamakura still fascinates me.
I can offer one explanation why I like this Buddha. When you enter the compound, you don't see him. One is never prepared for the awesome sight as you turn away from the entrance and turn around the bend. Suddenly he is there, his head slightly bowed, the tiny curls on his head looking like a crown. What strikes you most is his faint smile that is not out of joy but of stability. Everything about him is in equilibrium. The balance comes from the mudra, the gesture that is formed by placing the right hand over the palm area of the left hand. The tips of the two thumbs are placed so that they touch each other lightly. The world of illusion is set aside by the enlightened mind.
The Kamakura Buddha is one powerful Buddha. During a tsunami hundreds of years ago, the entire compound of the temple was swept away. The bronze statue was the only one that remained standing.
Looking at the Buddha, one can only feel a sense of peace. One's religion need not matter. Before the Great Buddha of Kamakura there is only a quiet. A stillness before the swords are drawn and the killings begin once more.