by Royall Tyler
The gentleman invited him in, fed him, and turned him over to a young man who was to escort him to “the usual place.” Apparently the gentleman was the mayor. The monk quaked to imagine what “the usual place” might be, but there was no escape.
The young man led him to a deserted spot in the mountains where he announced that he had brought him there to kill him. “People have wandered into the village as you did several times in the past,” he explained. “We’ve always killed them because we’re afraid they’ll talk about us in the world outside. No one out there has any idea our village even exists, you see.”
The monk’s mind froze, but in tears he managed to remind the young man that being a monk he followed the path of the Buddha and was dedicated to the welfare of all. That was why he had been passing through these mountains in the first place. “You have no idea of the sacrifices I’ve made, of labors I’ve performed in pursuit of my goal!” he went on. “And now you’re going to kill me just because I lost my way! Of course I’m going to die in the end, I know. Everyone is. That’s not what I mind. It’s just that it’s such an awful sin for you to kill a blameless monk! Please, please, won’t you let me live?”
“I see,” the young man replied. “Yes, I’d like to let you go. But I’m so afraid of what would happen if you talked about us outside!”
“Oh, but I won’t talk about you, of course I won’t. A man values his life more than anything and he never forgets what he owes someone who’s saved him!”
“Well, all right. You’re a monk. I can see that. I’ll let you go, as long as you’ll keep this knowledge to yourself. I can just pretend I killed you.”
The monk swore every way he knew how that he would keep his mouth shut, and the young man, with many repetitions of his caution, showed him the path back to the outside world. One last time the monk bowed to his benefactor, assuring him that he would never forget his kindness as long as he lived. Then with tears of emotion on both sides the two parted, and the monk followed the trail till it rejoined the normal path through the mountains.
In due course he got back to the village he had started from. Of course he had sworn himself to silence many times over, but he was a great talker and was soon spouting the whole story to everyone. The general reaction was “Tell me another!” but he described the village and the spring of wine in such eloquent detail that some high-spirited youths decided to check. It would be one thing if those villagers were gods or demons, but apparently they were just people. They could not be as scary as all that.
Half a dozen of the strongest young braves set out, each armed with a bow, arrows, and a club, and the monk went with them. Several older, more responsible people tried to stop them, warning them not to engage a completely unknown community on their own ground, but the hotheads paid no attention. The monk’s eloquence had fired their imaginations. The parents and relatives who remained behind were very worried.
The party did not return that day or the next. In fact, they never came back at all. No one volunteered to go after them. Amid lamentations, the matter was dropped. No doubt the whole party had been massacred.
That monk had really distinguished himself with all his talk. He would have done better to leave well enough alone, and his audience would have done better still to ignore his prattle!
100.
VERY HIGH IN THE MOUNTAINS
The monk Giei spent his life roaming from province to province, visiting every holy site in the land. In his travels he made a pilgrimage to Kumano and from there passed northward into the Ōmine Mountains.
He was headed for Golden Peak, but got so lost on the way that he could no longer tell east from west. A good blast on the conch he had slung at his waist got no answer. Next he climbed a peak for a better view, but all he could see from the top was valley after dim valley.
After ten days Giei was so desperate that he begged the buddha of his portable altar to lead him back to civilization. As he prayed he came to a handsome wood with a pretty little house inside it, surrounded by a broad garden strewn with white sand. The shrubs were as green as green could be, and it was a marvel to see flowers blooming everywhere amid a profusion of ripe berries and fruit.
What a cheering sight! In the house a monk no older than twenty was chanting the Lotus Sutra in a sublime voice that touched the depths of Giei’s being. Each chapter was a separate scroll. As soon as the monk had finished one and laid it on his desk, the scroll would rise into the air, roll itself back up cover and all, tie its own cords neatly, and settle back down. Scroll by scroll, the monk went through the whole Sutra. Giei was awed and frightened.
The holy man stood up. He did not hide his astonishment on seeing his visitor. “No human has ever been here before,” he said. “I’m so high in the mountains that I seldom even hear the birds singing in the valleys. Who are you?”
Giei explained that he was a monk and lost. The holy man invited him in, and some beautiful acolytes served him a delicious meal that made him forget all about hunger and starvation. He asked the holy man how long he had lived here and why he lacked nothing.
“I’ve been here eighty years,” the holy man answered. “Once I was a monk on Mount Hiei, but I’m sorry to say there was a little trouble between me and my master and he refused to keep me with him any longer. I couldn’t think of anything else to do but go roaming. Of course I was young and strong then, and I worshipped at all the holy places. When I got old I took refuge in these mountains, and I’ve been here ever since, waiting for death.”
Giei listened with growing amazement. “You say no one comes here,” he insisted, “but you have three beautiful acolytes serving you. Surely you can’t be serious!”
“The Sutra itself says, ‘Celestial boys will come to serve the one who upholds this Sutra.’ Is it really so strange?”
“You say you’re old, but as far as I can see you’re in the flower of youth. Are you sure you’re telling me your real age?”
“The Sutra says, ‘He who hears this Sutra will never be ill, nor will he grow old and die.’ I’m only telling you the truth.”
When the holy man told Giei it was time for him to leave, Giei spoke of the suffering he had just gone through, and reminded the holy man of his starved and weakened condition. He assured the holy man that he wanted to serve him for the rest of his life.
“It’s not that I dislike you,” the holy man answered. “But I’ve spent all these years far away from people, and that’s why I have to insist that you go. If you want to stay one night and no more, you must promise me you won’t move or make a sound.” Giei promised and got himself out of sight.
Soon after dark an eerie little breeze sprang up. From his hiding place Giei watched supernatural beings arrive in all sorts of extraordinary forms. Some had the heads of horses, oxen, or birds, while some were shaped like deer. They crowded in with offerings of incense, flowers, nuts, fruit, and drink, and after placing all these good things before the hut they prostrated themselves in perfect order with palms pressed together. Suddenly one among them remarked, “Strange! It’s different here tonight! I smell man!” Giei was so upset he moved, but the holy man came to his rescue by intoning the Sutra and kept it up all night long. At dawn he ended by dedicating the merit of his chanting to all beings, and the bizarre company dispersed.
Giei crept out and asked where all the creatures had come from. The holy man reminded him that the Buddha says in the Sutra, “If there is no one to hear the Law, then I will send celestial beings, dragon kings, earth spirits, and demons to be the congregation.”
Though ready to leave now, Giei still did not know the way. The holy man told him to go straight south. He put a water jar outside the house, and it rose into the air and headed slowly southward. Giei followed it for hours to a mountaintop, where he looked down and saw a large village below him. The jar soared into the sky and disappeared. Giei realized that he was back where he had started from. He told the villagers, with tears of emotion, how he had met the Immortal, and
all who heard him bowed their heads in awe.
No human ever found the Immortal’s retreat again.
101.
THE GOD OF FIRE AND THUNDER
This is a true vision. The statesman Sugawara no
Michizane (845–903) was exiled unjustly by Emperor
Daigo in 901 and soon died, heartbroken. When
disasters began to occur, people believed that his
vengeful ghost was causing them. Within twenty years,
Michizane had been posthumously reinstated and promoted,
and in 959 the great Kitano Shrine, even now a Kyoto
landmark, was built for his spirit. The god’s name is
still known as Tenjin. Students pray to him
for success in their examinations.
This is what the Venerable Nichizō wrote in the Account of a Visit to the Afterworld, which he set down in 941, shortly after the event.
I was born in the Capital. Early in 916 I shaved my head and took religious vows at a temple in the Ōmine Mountains. I was then in my twelfth year.
For six years I led an ascetic life, taking no salt or grain, and only left the mountains when I heard my mother was suffering from a long illness and calling constantly for me. I went to Kyoto to see her in the spring of 921, then returned to the mountains. Since then I have continued going into the mountains every spring. This is the twenty-sixth year I have done so.
Meanwhile many disasters have troubled the realm. I gather that people have noted many strange dreams, and that things have seldom gone as they should. The movements of the heavenly bodies and the signs of yin and yang have constantly announced misfortune. That is why I decided to seek divine help. I went deeper than ever into the mountain wilderness and redoubled my efforts, for my own sake and for the sake of the peace and prosperity of the realm. I vowed to fast, keep silent, and contemplate the Buddha for three times seven days.
At midday on the first of the eighth moon of 941, while I was absorbed in my rite, I began to burn with heat. My throat and tongue dried up and my windpipe closed. Knowing that I could not speak or call for help, I wept and simply struggled for breath. Then my breathing stopped and I died.
I left my cave, carrying my sutra scrolls as I always do when I go into the mountains, and looked around to see what direction to take. As I did so, a hermit monk appeared in the cave. He had a golden jar and poured me some water from it. The water’s delicious taste filled me.
The hermit said, “I am Shū Kongō Shin, the Divine Vajra-Bearer. From my cave I guard the Buddha Shaka’s Teaching. Your devotion all these years has impressed me, venerable monk, and I brought you this water from the Himalayas.”
The celestial acolytes with him brought in all sorts of delicacies, heaped them onto large lotus leaves, and served them to me. The hermit explained that the acolytes were the Twenty-Eight Gods who protect the esoteric adept.
Just then a noble monk descended from a peak to the west and held out his left hand for me to take. He led me straight up the peak, which was thousands of feet deep in snow. From the top of the mountain I saw all the worlds spread out below.
The mountain was very beautiful. Its flat summit was immaculate, and a golden radiance shone everywhere. To the north rose a golden prominence with a throne on it made of the seven treasures: gold, silver, lapis lazuli, rock crystal, jade, coral, and agate.
The monk sat on this throne. “I am Zaō Gongen, a form of Shaka,” he said. “This is the Paradise of Golden Peak. You have only a few years left to live. Give your all to build up merit!”
I answered that life itself meant nothing to me. “But having chosen a spot to do just as you say,” I continued, “I now find my life is nearly over before I’ve achieved my goal! Please tell me how many years I have left. What buddha should I serve, what rite should I do so as to prolong my life?”
The monk took a tablet, wrote eight characters on it, and gave it to me. I read, SUN STORE NINE NINE YEARS MONTHS KING GUARD.
“Son of the Buddha,” he said, “your life is like a cloud that catches a moment on the mountain, then drifts off and melts into the sky. It is easily lost. But practice in the mountains will lengthen it, while living among men would make you lazy and would cut it short. SUN and STORE (NICHI ZO) mean the buddha and the rite you know. Before, your name was Dōken, but now you must take your new name, Nichizō, which come from this buddha and this rite. NINE NINE is the age you’ll live to. YEARS and MONTHS mean time. KING and GUARD mean you’ll be protected. Your new master is Gohō Bosatsu, the Protector of the Law. You’ve already vowed before your first teacher to observe the rules of Buddhist conduct, but the Protector of the Law will administer the vow to you again.”
There was a brilliant burst of rainbow light. The monk said, “Behold Daijō Tenjin, the Great Celestial Statesman!”
Instantly a numberless multitude approached from the void above the mountains to the west. It might have been an emperor’s enthronement procession. Servants and retainers of species unknown, in unheard-of forms, flocked endlessly past. Terrifying to look at, some resembled vajra guardians, others thunder gods or demon kings. Each was armed to the teeth with quiver and bow, spear, scimitar, and staff.
Daijō Tenjin was going to pass on by when he noticed me. “Come, good hermit,” he said to me, “I want to show you my castle. I’ll bring you back here afterwards. Will that be all right?”
Zaō Gongen said I could go. I got up behind Daijō Tenjin on his white horse, and after hundreds of leagues we came to a vast lake. In the middle of the lake was a large island a hundred leagues wide, with a square dais on it sixteen feet on a side. A lotus flower rose from the center of the dais, and a jewel-tower above it enshrined the Lotus Sutra. To the east and west hung the Womb-Store Realm and the Vajra-Realm mandalas. Everything was indescribably beautiful.
Then I looked to the north and saw a great citadel brilliant with light. It was Daijō Tenjin’s castle. Daijō Tenjin’s countless train poured into it and stood guard.
“I am the Sugawara no Michizane who once lived in your land,” Daijō Tenjin said to me. “The Thirty-Three Heavens know me as Nippon Daijō Itoku Ten, the Celestial Statesman of Great Majesty from Japan. The pain of parting from those one loves, when I first encountered it, did not leave me unmoved; and that is why I now burn to torment the emperor and his ministers, to wound the people, and to smite the realm. I govern all sicknesses and all calamities.
“I first thought to turn to this vengeful purpose all the tears I shed while I lived, because they would surely overwhelm the land and leave it a faceless ocean. After thirty-two years I established my own land and built a castle for myself. Meanwhile great saints were spreading the Esoteric teachings, teachings which for me have always had a great appeal, and so the rage I once felt largely receded. Then all the enlightened Emanations and Bodhisattvas, in their goodness and mercy, named even me a god. Some of these Emanations live on mountain-tops and in forests, others on the banks of rivers or on the shore of the sea, and all bent their supernatural wisdom to calming and comforting me. That is why I still have not visited any dire catastrophe on Japan. But my followers, who number 168,000 evil deities, work their mischief everywhere. Even I cannot restrain them, still less could any other god.”
I said to him, “Everyone in my country calls you Celestial God of Fire and Thunder, and we revere you as we do the Buddha Shaka himself. Why are you still so angry?”
“I am your land’s implacable enemy,” he answered. “Who in Japan honors me? The name of my messenger is Venomous King of the Celestial Essences of Fire and Thunder. Never, never will I forget, till I myself reach enlightenment, the wrongs done me all those years ago! I shall see that whoever held a post at court while I lived is wounded and struck down. But today I acknowledge you my master and I make you this promise. Should anyone have faith in you, pass on my words, make an image of me, call my name and pray devoutly to me, then, good monk, I will grant his desire for your sake. But I see that you are not
to live long. Redouble your efforts! Never relax!”
“Zaō Gongen gave me this tablet,” I said, “but I don’t quite understand it. Would you tell me what it means?”
Daijō Tenjin explained, “SUN (NICHI) means the Cosmic Buddha DaiNICHI, Great SUN. STORE (ZO) means the Womb-STORE Mandala. NINE NINE means eighty-one: eighty-one YEARS and eighty-one MONTHS. KING (O) means ZaO Gongen. GUARD means protection. As long as you devote yourself to the Buddha Dainichi and do the great rite of the Womb-Store Mandala, you will live eighty-one years. If you practice the rite truly, as the Buddha really taught it, your life will be further lengthened to ninety-nine years, while laxity will shorten it by ninety-nine months. At any rate, Zaō Gongen will watch over you. Now adopt your new name, Nichizō, and practice with tireless energy.”
When he had finished speaking, I went back to Golden Peak and told Zaō Gongen what I had seen and heard.
Zaō Gongen replied, “I wanted you to know the source of the evils that afflict the world. That’s why I sent you there.”
Then he went on to repeat that Nippon Daijō Tenjin is Sugawara no Michizane, and that Tenjin’s followers number 168,000. He described their many noxious forms and the way they do harm everywhere in the realm. “The older gods are powerless to stop them,” he continued. “In the summer of 930, you know, lightning struck the emperor’s own palace and killed Lord Mareyo and several others; and it was this messenger, the Venomous King of Fire and Thunder, who did it. He roasted the flesh and viscera of our own Emperor Daigo so that the emperor died, and he set fire to temples like Hōryūji, Tōdaiji, and others. Yes, that too was the Venomous King’s work. And all those crimes the evil gods commit, all that murder and destruction, are charged to Emperor Daigo alone as though he were the sea all rivers empty into.