Japanese Temple Offers Enlightenment in Darkness - With strong influences from old China, sprawling Zentsuji temple on Shikoku island connects visitors with the past and themselves

Photo Credit by Adam Smith

Grown men are not supposed to be afraid of the dark. But I suddenly felt a sense of nagging fear as I was consumed by absolute black. I was inside a tunnel underneath Zentsuji temple in Southwest Japan – a temple with rich history and connections to old China.

I’ll get to the significance of this sacred place – and its critical role in the famous 88-temple pilgrimage of Japan’s Shikoku island – in a bit. Right now, I want to tell you about the tunnel.

It was the first time I could remember when I was in a place with not even a flicker of light. Think about it: These days it’s nearly impossible to find absolute darkness, no matter the hour or the place. We’ve created a world so unnaturally and constantly illuminated — from our phones, our cars, our 24-hour stores, our pulsating “sleeping” devices — that even our birds and butterflies are confused as to when is day and when is night.

We as humans – so many centuries detached from the time of Zentsuji’s founding – have grown dependent on electric light and the nonstop information it can carry to our minds. We can only realize how much illumination is part of who we are when we are denied it. Then, the natural world and all is natural rhythms and all its natural cycles suddenly appears … unnatural.

I was startled by the tunnel’s blackness. I was also startled by how much I was startled. The absence of light can play strange tricks on one’s senses. This is especially true when you have to move forward. I started to see vague, moving shapes — faint, shifting clouds — that seemed to leave as soon as they appeared in my vision. They were light mirages emanating from the darkness, probably my mind trying to process the lack of any visual stimulation. My thoughts, however, were the real problem: They formed images of what could happen, but which never would happen. I asked myself whether trying to return to the start of the tunnel would be a better idea than proceeding into the unknown. Each step forward seemed to enter a deeper darkness.

Venturing through the winding tunnel, known as the “kaidan meguri” that’s beneath the Mieido Hall building is supposed to help you reflect on life and find a sense of enlightenment, I was told before entering.

I, however, was just having irrational, improbable fears, even as logic told me I was safe.

But, wait, perhaps, that feeling of fear when left without sight and sound was telling me something, I thought. I should listen to it. Perhaps this fear of the unknown was actually telling me something about myself.

Could it be that without the distraction of my senses, this persistent, baseless fear was always lingering in my subconscious? Was I actually becoming more aware of myself, even in this brief walk? I was now alert to my suspicions, my race to assume the worst, my anxieties that have no real basis in reality. Maybe the purpose of the tunnel was real. I’ve never found solace in any religion, but perhaps some faith was in order.

Photo Credit by Adam Smith

I proceeded.

Since my last trip there, I often reflect on the complex, if confusingly organized, temple grounds of Zentsuji, located in Kagawa prefecture, which is boarded by the Seto Inland Sea on one side and dotted with mountains on the other. I’ve been there dozens of times over the past two decades, and each time I find something – a stone figure of a silly man, a lotus flower sprouting from a stream, a wood carving – that I missed the last time I was there.

The temple is so sprawling and busy with old wood buildings, gates, rows of stone statues and a museum, that I often forget it’s the birthplace of one of the most influential Buddhist leaders in Shikoku: Kobo Daishi, also referred to as Kuukai. Born in 774, Kuukai is credited as the founder of Shingon Buddhism.

Known as the “Great Teacher of the Divine Law,” Kobo Daishi had traveled to China and throughout Shikoku and, though raised on the ideals of Confucius, would later be moved by Buddhism. Today, the temple at which he was born, Zentsuji, is a key stop on the 88-temple tour route through Shikoku, and is a place of great history and legend. Followers of the religion hike through the route every year clad in white robe-like outfits and carrying wooden walking sticks. While it was mostly unknown to the outside world for hundreds of years, the route has gained international fame in recent years, with features in the New York Times and other major publications, often portraying the area as more enchanted than it is.

So, it’s fair to say the place is also one of myth.

Supposedly founded around the period of Kuukai’s life, the temple itself is a mix of centuries-old buildings and newer structures, including an intriguing five-story pagoda that was built about 120 years ago. One structure is said to be built on Kuukai’s birthplace, and a giant, lovely old camphor, according to legend, dates back to Kobo Daishi’s time. The tree feels as if it contains a greater spirit than any of the man-made structures.

But that tunnel … Long after venturing through it, I think about how it is actually a metaphor for life. For with each step, each moment we move forward, we are stepping into an unknown. The light we see, illuminating our steps and our journey into time, is really just a deception of security. Is this a lesson intended for the tunnel? I don’t know. But it’s a lesson I’ve carried with me since.

This story was adapted from a small zine booklet created by the author.