Thursday, November 13, 2014

Ryoanji 龍安寺



It was a spittingly wet day when I stumbled out of the bus to walk to the temple. Armed with only a map and a rudimentary understanding of Japanese, I felt hesitant about the journey.
            I contemplated the Chinese character ‘an’ in ‘Ryoanji,’ the Zen rock garden I was to visit. It was actually my second time visiting; I had come with my Japanese teacher a few years earlier.
            I thought of motion as I tried furiously to find the temple I had flown over five thousand miles to see. To experience the kind of peace not accessible to a suburbanite lifestyle. I opened my flimsy umbrella which I had to tilt at an angle to keep from upturning from the harsh wind.
            When I found it (after mistakenly visiting a similar rock garden and paying a few dollars to do so), I wasn’t so much relieved as I was physically and mentally tired. The incense smelled good—rustic and earthy.
            I sat there under the awning staring at that rock garden for at least 30 minutes. I closed my eyes and tried to reflect on my travels to Korea and Japan. How I had to struggle to find my first hostel in downtown Osaka—all I had was a rudimentary map of the district. I must have wandered about the narrow, shop-filled streets of Namba trying to find that god-darned hostel to stay for the night. I eventually found it, right after I stood in the doorway of the bar next door to it.
Many Japanese people have a way of putting you at ease without saying a word. Perhaps it is the silence, but it’s fairly easy to strike up conversation or at least ask a question to a native Japanese person. You feel that they hear you and consider your words. At times the kindness is contrived—of course, not all foreigners or their behaviors are deserving of respect—but you get the sense that social tension is rare in public. But weirdly enough the very act of deference (that is, being helpful to strangers and the like) puts oneself at ease.
Basic psychology, of course. But once you see it in public practiced so frequently, you tend to wonder about the tone of interaction happening especially in the States. You wonder if coolness and sarcasm and rudeness have become institutionalized in the U.S. like it’s become part of the ground we walk on. We’ve mistaken the weeds for the grass. It’s not that acting nice will actually make us happy, but that it will make the people around us feel just a bit better. And that is the first step to a more easy-going and accepting culture.
            Some may feel my criticism of the U.S. is a bit broad and generalizing, but I do sincerely believe a trip to Japan could show you exactly what I mean. Or maybe you will suggest I move there. But the reason I write this way is precisely because I love this country and want to see it improve; I want people to recognize that there’s something lacking in our public communication: sincerity.
            Our tones are combative in nature and politics becomes a shouting match between two sides. The effect of this polarizing debate is the effective silencing of diverse points of view that fall outside the two major parties’ purviews. Each argument seeks to disprove the other instead of finding commonality and shared sentiment. Not that sentiment can replace thought; nothing can. There are, however, multiple positions on how the U.S. should conduct its domestic and foreign policy; not everything is reducible to a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ vote. How about a maybe? How about I am not sure about the right course of action and want to hear reasoned debate about the issues instead of ideological sputterings of the same old hackneyed positions?
            That’s why I think a visit to a city like Kyoto or Osaka can readily dispel the weary solipsism of absolute right or wrong. Being in a crowd tears down the idea of absolute uniqueness. For all are in a complex web, fighting for some kind of recognition where sameness is inescapable.


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