Daizoji -
Buddha Bits and Pieces

The city of Fukushima I only knew from behind train windows, and that was not a way to see it to its best advantage. All I had noticed in the passing was the glaring lack of character of its architecture. Now, alighting for the first time to visit Daizoji Temple in Fukushima's outskirts, the impression of the city itself does not change, but it is dwarfed, not to say erased, by the majesty of the mountains that tower on the western horizon. With a feeling of awe I look up at those powerful, white peaks, wondering what they are called and what that crater-like volcano in the their midst is. They accompany me all the way up the hill to Daizoji, and the view of the pristine snowy crags makes me shiver from the imaginary cold.

Daizoji's hillside, Mt. Benten, has recently been invaded by a whole army of houses, standing on narrow terraces and behind high fences, where bored dogs bark at the rare passersby. After the last house, the road continues up to the temple, but I discover a path that branches off into the wood. This is the original way to Daizoji, dating from the days that pilgrims still used to climb the low hill on foot. I take the ancient path, and soon notice that I am an exception, as the path is overgrown with weeds and the stone staircases are sagging, a vivid testimony to present disuse. Nevertheless, the path is passable and provides a short and pleasant walk, along occasional stone lanterns and weird-looking statues.

Daizoji was founded in 810, but its history is made up of a string of fires and wars, punctuated by fits of abandonment and restoration. Therefore, I do not expect to find many interesting, old buildings. There is a Kannon hall, now empty and closed as its statues are housed in the new concrete storehouse; I see a new-looking wooden shrine and a pagoda-like structure that also makes the impression of being a modern addition. After buying a ticket from an old lady at the residence of the priest, without further ado I hasten further up the hill to see the statues in the storehouse. The priest is already there catering to other visitors.

Broken Buddha's
Not only Daizoji's buildings have had a rough history, a first look at its statues proves that they have had a bumpy ride through time as well. The noble Kannon that stands in the center is the only one that looks unscathed. The twenty odd statues placed around it against the walls are in a very grievous state. Some have been visibly roasted by fire, others are no more than battered logs that look as if a giant dog has gnawed and nibbled on them. Accidentally, that makes them perfect works of art for our time that values the abstract and the incomplete.

Despite the sad state they are in, there are some truly impressive specimens among those bits and pieces of Buddha's. One statue for example is still just recognizable as a temple guardian, a sculpture placed in the gate to ward off evil influences by a show of rope-like muscles and a face contorted in an angry shout. The surface of the wood has been chewed away, so that it looks as if the muscles have been laid bare on purpose. The powerful mouth has been reduced to a horrific grinning skull. It looks as if decay has improved the terrifying efficacy of this statue.

I learn from the explanation of the priest that also the Kannon statue used to be damaged. Although it now stands proudly on strong feet on a wooden pedestal, one of the legs had decayed so far that it had to be restored in recent times. There is no trace visible of this repair, so I conclude that a very expert job has been done. This restoration is very welcome, as I could not bear a statue of such beauty to be an invalid.

It is an Eleven-headed, Thousand-armed Kannon, a splendid artwork that was sculpted as a prayer for the success of the campaigns of the Barbarian-Subduing Generalissimo, Sakanoue no Tamuramaro. As befits a Kannon of the North, with such martial origins, the face is massive and austere, with only a slight touch of femininity. The body too is broad-set and heavy, the legs are solid. Only the arms are an exception, as they are long and thin. Then, it could not have been otherwise, with a halo of eleven pairs of arms fanning out from the shoulders, as a symbol for the thousand, there was no room for more flesh.

The view from Daizoji

A matter of strong legs
I sit on the floor in front of the Kannon, basking in the confidence that the sculpture exudes, now and then looking away at the walls for the game of guessing the identity of the other, ruined statues standing there. It is a game without end and the priest interrupts me for small talk. The other visitors have already left. He asks how I came to the temple, and I tell about my walk from the bus stop. The priest is surprised. Nobody walks anymore, he says, he has grown so used to it, that when people call for directions, he just tells them to take a taxi from the station.

"Strange," he suddenly laughs, "In the past when I still went down the mountain, I walked all the way to the station, and it took me only fifteen minutes." Now he has been so conditioned by our automotive society that walking does not come into his mind as an option anymore.

Modern comfort has made us lazy. In the past, frequent temple visits could be a healing experience, simply thanks to the healthy exercise of walking from one to the other. Nowadays, even a short walk from the bus stop is too much and therefore people who could be healthy have turned into invalids.

Later I walk back down the mountain, again facing those magnificent snowy peaks. The low sun is slowly sinking behind them. The air is cold and fresh, I smell the snow and the mountains. I am happy to be walking, feeling vibrant and strong as the Kannon of the North, the Kannon of Daizoji.