Searching for Serenity

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It would take many paragraphs to describe all of the emotions I was feeling as I sat in the San Francisco airport waiting for my flight to Tokyo last week. Ben moved out of the house a few weeks ago and Laura will move back to San Francisco this month, so I will return to an empty house or worse, the house will be sold while I'm gone and someone else will be living there. At least I will be leaving behind the emotional turmoil of the past seven months, I thought to myself. I imagined I would step off of the plane in Tokyo and my mind would be wiped clean of sad memories and agonizing questions. So far that hasn't been the case.

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There is no airport in Tokyo. The airport is actually located in Narita, a little temple town about twenty minutes away from Tokyo. It was late by the time I arrived in my Narita hotel and I was tired, so I decided to find a nearby sushi bar and grab a bite to eat before collapsing for the night.

No one spoke English in the sushi bar. Fortunately, my vocabulary of a dozen or so Japanese words turned out to be the exact words I needed to order sushi, get more wasabi, and thank everyone as I left.

On the way back to the hotel I decided I had just enough energy to take a detour to the Narita temple complex. It was dark when I arrived at the entrance and no one was in sight. I wasn't sure if it was okay to walk in, but each long steep staircase dared me to slip deeper into the complex. I could make out the silhouettes of elegant pagodas and ornate monsters. I was reminded of Richard Haliburton hiding on the grounds of the Taj Mahal until after it closed so that he could have the place to himself.

Back in my hotel I noticed the following warning in the guest book:

When you perceive an earthquake:

• Put out fire at once.
  
• Don't panic, protecting your head with a pillow from falling objects.
  
• Open the door so that you may escape.
  
• Protect yourself by escaping under the counter.
  

I was disappointed that the toilet wasn't one of those high-tech talking toilets that say it's honored to accept my waste when I flush it. (I saw that on the Simpsons.)

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The next morning I returned to the temple complex to get a better look. If the Japanese mind is reflected by the Japanese city-- chaotic, trendy, gadget-crazy--. then at the center is a place of great serenity and beauty. In Narita this center is embodied by a 1000 year-old complex of temples and gardens. The temples are elegant and uncluttered. A vast open plaza surrounds each one. In front of each temple is a covered water trough with bamboo ladles that can be used by pilgrims to wash themselves before entering. For 100 yen I lit a candle at the main temple and prayed for Lord Buddha to heal me; to turn my pain into compassionate action. I prayed that Asia would swallow me whole and spit out my reincarnated ass at the end of the month.

Beyond the temples the path meanders along a creek that balloons into a series of three ponds. The ponds are home to carp, turtles, and dragonflies. Arched bridges cross the waterfalls that connect one pond to the next. Weeping willows droop over the banks. One vista obscures another. There is no privileged perspective, reminding us that foreground must always be accompanied by an invisible background. An ancient crooked woman wearing a surgical mask passed me on the trail. Should I say "good morning" or "good afternoon" I wondered. The sweat pouring off of me suggested that it must be high noon. I glanced at my watch, 8:05 AM, "Ohio!"

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On my way back to the hotel I stopped at a grocery store to buy a bottle of water. It was still closed. Inside I could see the employees enthusiastically standing at attention while they received the day's motivational speech from a manager who looked about twenty.

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As my plane taxied away from the gate I noticed that the ground crew waved at us then bowed in unison.

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