by Ioana Lee
Temple, Safe Haven and Home
In challenging situations, when I felt lonely and lost, when a conversation with Adrian or Tina wasn’t helping me any longer, I’d pack my bags and go visit uncle Koji and aunt Kyooko. I desperately needed to distance myself from my own life, gain perspective and find my inner balance. I had my own room in their house, which was always open for me whenever I needed it. That room was a safe haven for me. I kept some of my books, clothes and personal care items in it and always found them untouched whenever I returned.
Many times Ken drove me to their house. We used to dine together once we arrived, after which he would return back to Tokyo. Days or weeks later, when I felt ready to return home, he’d come to pick me up. While apart, Ken and I spoke on the phone daily. Most evenings he called to say how much he loved me and how sorry he was for upsetting me again. He told me bedtime stories over the phone—he knew that I had trouble sleeping during the night. Wherever we went together, Romania, Japan or traveling around the world, he massaged me almost every night and told me bedtime stories, either real or invented ones, to make sure that I would fall asleep. He was delicate and attentive, yet sometimes he was instead annoying and tiresome. He thought and felt the same way about me and, as much as I didn’t like it, I had to admit that he was right.
I was happy to have a place to go whenever Ken became very manipulative and was breathing down my neck every second of the day, making me feel like I didn’t have enough air. I called Uncle Koji “my father from Tokyo.” Ken felt comfortable knowing that I was spending time with people who were part of the family. That meant that someone could watch me constantly. He had a fear of me socializing with strangers and being negatively influenced by them, degrading my Japanese personality.
Uncle Koji’s house was a home as well as a Buddhist temple. He was a Buddhist priest. The house was surrounded by a beautiful garden. It had two entrances, one for the home and the other for the temple. It took me a while to understand which side was the home and which was the temple.
The house had lots of rooms and was very big compared to the traditional Japanese tiny apartments. The temple had a beautiful entrance door, decorated with Buddhist worship objects and ornaments (dragons, little bells, sacred coins, etc.). The entrance door led to a huge room with a beautiful tatami on the floor. There were lots of Buddhist paintings on the wall, in which good and evil dragons represented heaven and hell. Some of the dragons looked so scary that I couldn’t even look at them. It was said that the dragons only welcomed those people who came with a pure, open heart. I knew that I was far from perfect when I entered the temple, yet I also knew that I had a good and honest heart. That being said, I don’t know what those dragons thought of me. They were spitting flames out of their mouth. Whenever I visited uncle Koji’s Buddhist temple I left Kiku at home, as she barked at all the mean looking dragons.
The house had three floors. There was no clear delineation between the temple room and the rest of the house. Navigating through it was always a mystery to me. The Parents’ house in Sendai and uncle Koji’s house in Tokyo were like labyrinths. On the first floor, there was a long hallway, separating the large Buddhist temple from the entrance hallway. The hallway led to one bathroom and a kitchen. The kitchen led to an office, a living room and then to a smaller hallway. The small hallway led to another bathroom, several bedrooms and another kitchen. Each of these rooms led to other ones.
It was dizzying. It felt like I was trapped in a maze. To get to my room, I had to take a set of stairs that were located by the temple. My room was isolated from the rest of the house and faced the back garden, which had a Buddhist cemetery. I never had the courage to walk through the temple at night, face the dragons in the darkness, take the stairs up to my room and glance through the window overlooking the cemetery. Often times I had to think twice if I really needed to use the bathroom during the night. Even though the bathroom was located on the same floor as my room, I thought it better to wait until the morning came.
You might already know me quite well, based on all the stories that I’ve told you so far on these pages. Now I think it would be a good time to reveal more of myself to you—I am chicken-hearted and very fearful. At Uncle Koji’s house my fear intensified. Because of this, I rarely went to sleep by myself. I often asked aunt Kyooko to put a mattress on the floor and sleep with me in the same room. I didn’t want to move to a bigger, two-bed room because I had everything I needed there: a landline, magazines, books, clothes and an environment that made me feel comfortable.
The days spent at my uncle’s house were like mini vacations. They showed me how much they cared for me through their actions and attitude. I loved them dearly and considered them my parents. They had three sons. Two of them went to study in different cities and the oldest was preparing to become a Buddhist priest. He had to go through some special rituals in order to become a priest. Part of the priesthood ritual was to spend 100 days on a mountain, going through rough training that included sleeping just 2 hours per night, meditating for hours without moving, head standing, fasting for days, intense praying, harsh physical training… Truth be told, when I learned about his mission in life and what it takes to get there, I thought that I also needed a week on that mountain. My humble opinion is that many other people need it too, as it makes you decide to either stay there forever or return to your real life and be true to yourself. I can imagine how such an experience would cause one to think and live like a totally different person. I got a taste of this feeling by having long conversations on religion, prayers and Buddhism with uncle Koji and his two sons.
The family’s driver was a wonderful man, always willing to help me. I admired and respected him and his inner beauty with all my heart. God bless him! I’ve had the chance to meet many wonderful people in my life and I truly believe that everyone has something special. Despite his rather unpleasant appearance, the driver was of a unique gracefulness, sensitivity and dedication. His honesty and integrity made me question if I wasn’t just casting a shadow on the Earth. This man took care of me with incredible devotion. He cooked for me, set up the table, washed the dishes after me, and peeled my fruits and vegetables. Very few people would have the patience like he did to peel all fruits and vegetables, including tomatoes. He did it because spoiled me couldn’t swallow anything that had the skin on. I often thought that not knowing how to do things in the house wasn’t all just my fault. I’ve always, but ALWAYS, had someone do it for me. If the driver wasn’t available to do it for me, uncle Koji or aunt Kyooko would do it. When they weren’t home, the housemaids would help me.
The home temple, as I call it, was always filled with people: workers, drivers, chefs, housemaids, neighbors or people who would come to the temple. I couldn’t distinguish between those people who worked in the house from those who came to the temple. Whenever I opened the door to the temple to let people in to pray, buy lucky charms or incense sticks, I’d notice that my presence shocked them. When they saw me—foreigner, tall, thin, with long hair, short skirts and blouses—they almost fainted, perhaps thinking that the devil himself had come disguised as me, to test their temptation right at the sacred temple… The shock was mutual.
My reaction to their reaction was to apologize profusely and call the people working in the house to help them out. I didn’t always understand what happened in that temple house, but I enjoyed being part of the crowd and studying everyone’s behavior. I made mistakes often and dropped the ball on several occasions, yet uncle Koji never admonished me. He always explained what I did wrong and then, amused at my behavior, told everyone about my gaffes, which caused everyone to roar with laughter.
One morning I woke up early and headed straight for the bathroom to shower. It was warm out and I slept dressed only in shorts and a vaporous blouse. I was half asleep and half awake.
Since the house was very quiet, I figured that it was a good time to sneak out and shower before everyone came to the temple. I walked downstairs murmuring a
song. At the bottom of the stairs I stopped dead. Actually I don’t know who froze first: uncle Koji, who was dressed in his ceremonial clothes, the crowd, who were quietly praying and got interrupted by a sleepy head, or me. I ran up the stairs and got back into my room. I was so embarrassed because of that gaffe that I couldn’t meet eyes with anyone for the rest of the day.
As you can imagine, that wasn’t my only gaffe. One day, I planned to go out for a walk with my aunt. I dressed in a tight, short dress and before heading out the door I remembered that I forgot my purse. I ran upstairs to my room to get it, making the huge mistake to take the shortcut that went through the temple. Bad move! The temple was filled with Buddhists who had come to pray. My outfit didn’t rise to the occasion. I don’t know if my presence at uncle Koji’s house and temple caused more people to attend the ceremonies, yet I know for sure that most of them thought that they were seeing the devil whenever they saw me. Even though in their mythology the devil had blond hair, I’m not sure that my dark hair saved me from being seen that way.
Because of the cemetery that was right next to the house, I was always frightened whenever I stayed at Uncle Koji’s house. My fear was even higher whenever their two sons came home or when Ken came to visit. Let me tell you why… We would all go out for dinner and upon our return, the men would immediately hide, leaving me alone, right in the area of the Buddhist cemetery. I always started screaming and didn’t stop until they turned on the light so I could find my way to the house. Often times they even had to come and take my hand, just like parents do with their children. They never left me in the darkness for too long, not because they actually cared about my fear, but because of the neighbors who would hear me screaming at the top of my lungs. Knowing how many frightened screams and cries for help I left in that cemetery, I doubt that any of those buried there could find their eternal peace.
Yowamushi da ne [xxix] they teased me afterwards. They all called me “chicken” and made fun of me for the rest of the evening. I laughed at my fears as well and joined them in my own mocking. Oh, how beautiful those evenings were! We had so much fun together. I was part of an extraordinary family and loved each and every one of them tremendously. They loved me even more and showed their affection even when they were quiet. I can’t express these feelings clearly into words. Around them I was surrounded by a beneficent silence—a silence that said so much. The vibe in the house temple was very special and gave me the feeling that I was truly part of a home inundated with balance and warmth. I always went there to find my anchor, yet I always found a whole lot more. Uncle Koji and Aunt Kyooko gave me priceless advice. They also gave me courage and made be believe in life and myself again and again. They never, ever told me that I upset or disappointed them, even though I knew that I wasn’t perfect.
A Buddhist Friend In Need Is A Good Friend Indeed
Uncle Koji was a very special priest. He was tolerant and open to learning about other cultures and ways of living, including Western ways. He welcomed every opportunity to socialize with people and enjoyed sharing laughter and dancing with them. Uncle Koji was able to change the rigid paradigm of many people of what and how a priest should be and behave, especially a Buddhist priest. In my mind and heart he was “the dancing priest,” an analogy that came to me after watching a comedy with Adriano Celentano[xxx]. Uncle Koji was a nonconformist in his behavior yet his heart was filled with a special wisdom and passion for life.
On one restless evening, late at night, I called uncle Koji and asked him to send one of the drivers to pick me up. I wanted to go to his house. He sensed the disturbance in my voice and decided to come and pick me up himself. He drove me to his house and by the time we got there everyone was asleep. I asked him to spend some time with me, as I really needed to be around someone who could listen to me and hear what I was actually saying. He made me a cup of tea and listened carefully. I confessed to him that I didn’t love Ken anymore and that I foresaw a potential divorce coming up between us.
“Does Ken know about this?” he asked me.
“I told him about it, but he always gets upset. Instead of doing something about it, he intentionally does the opposite. I’m running out of patience and strength.”
“Did you talk to Otoosan?”
“No. I didn’t have the courage. I haven’t told anyone but you. I didn’t even tell anyone in my family in Romania. You are the only one who knows about this. I’m very scared about what might happen but I must do something about it,” I said, holding his hand, bursting into tears.
“I beg you to forgive me for this. You are all doing so many wonderful things for me and I, in return, don’t know how to be a wife.”
He responded to what I said with a very long answer, with calm determination. He told me about life’s challenges, about marriage and the harmony that should exist in a family, about the emotional and physical balance that we should all strive for. He emphasized the fact that we shouldn’t give up on life and other people and that our duty is to go forward, learning from all the experiences that we go through. He said that life is nothing more than a series of experiences, trials and struggles and it all depends on how we react to them.
The most important thing from Uncle Koji’s perspective was to keep our calm and “stay cool.” His advice was rather philosophical, and sounded pretty much like parts of Eminescu’s poetry. It was well known that Mihai Eminescu, one of Romania’s most influential poets, was inspired by Eastern spirituality when he wrote some of his celebrated poems. Uncle Koji’s way of expressing how he felt about my struggle gave me strength and confidence in myself and made be believe that I could fly again and make things happen. There I was, a Christian, being brought back to reality by a Buddhist priest.
I never went to confession in a Christian orthodox church and I doubt that I’ll ever do it. When it comes to this I identify with Maupassant’s belief: “God is everywhere. I believe in his goodness and mercy from the bottom of my heart, but when there are certain priests between him and me, I can no longer realize his presence.”[xxxi] Even though I never confessed anything to anyone, I confessed to my Buddhist uncle things that I wasn’t ready to confess, not even to myself. He held all my secrets and deepest thoughts, yet no one from the family ever found out anything from him. This was the reason he was the one to find out about the end of my love story with Ken, even before the story itself ended.
Uncle Koji was also the only one in the family to understand my artistic desires and inclinations. He himself was once a model for a national advertising campaign that promoted apple juice. In his youth he was very charismatic and photogenic. He was bold and had an intelligent and kind feel to him. He had a unique liveliness in his eyes and his high eyebrows made him look genuinely surprised at everything life had to offer. He was able to keep his cool despite all the intense moments that he was a part of, maintaining and spreading warmth all around him. Unlike all the other priests, he found great joy in dancing. He inspired foreigners like me, making us all feel like we were a part of their lives. His warm personality and jovial attitude was like a magnet for everyone around him. Uncle Koji was the only one who was against the Japanese “austerity” trend and certain useless obligations that we were exposed to. He had enough wisdom to differentiate between the important aspects of the Japanese culture and all the odds and ends that did nothing but burden our lives. For example, he understood implicitly whenever I felt the need to lean on poles when I was tired, without seeing my behavior as an offense to the rules of Nipponese society.
I remember vividly one of those moments when uncle Koji met my family who had come to visit me from Romania. We all went to a luxurious Japanese restaurant and were seated in a private room. At that restaurant, like at most other Japanese restaurants, certain protocols were in place, one of them being to always keep your clothes on regardless of how warm it might get. Well, when uncle Koji and my father started remembering their glorious past in which they were both involved in sports, the temperature in the room
rose. Their cheerfulness and pride made them go back in time and relive those times when their bodies were perfectly sculpted. The euphoria made them take off their shirts and measure their biceps.
One of uncle Koji’s sons joined them in this competition, while the rest of us observed, deeply amused by their joyfulness, taking pictures and setting up a little contest on masculine beauty. That night was one of the most fun and relaxing ones, precisely because we abandoned the rules and adopted instead an attitude of joviality and sympathy. There were no borders, nor different nationalities in that room that night. My Romanian and Japanese family always got along flawlessly, even when they were left alone with no translators. In my heart, I know that they are still thinking of each other and are waiting for the day when they’ll be able to meet again and create unforgettable moments together.
Uncle Koji never traveled to other countries because, as he always said, he didn’t like flying and couldn’t stand the thought of eating any other cuisine except Japanese. His wife on the other hand, who was also very open, friendly and untraditional, liked foreign cuisines and would have liked to fly and see other countries. I always teased uncle Koji on this subject, saying that the correct sentence is not “I don’t like flying,” but rather “even though I’m a Buddhist priest, I’m afraid of flying…”