Gokurakubashi - Bridge into Paradise

A blast of icy wind struck me as the train doors opened and I stepped out of the warm compartment onto the platform. Snow was falling like soft flower petals, drifting onto the platform and melting on my shoes. This was the end of the rail line, at the base of Mt Koya, and all the passengers were now walking up the steep steps to transfer on to the little funicular railway that takes you on up the mountain to the Shingon Buddhist village of Koyasan.

This station is called Gokurakubashi – Bridge into Paradise. It marks the entrance to one of the seven traditional pathways up the mountain to the sacred site of Koyasan. Even though it was snowing I decided to walk the rest of the way, as pilgrims and monks have been doing for over twelve hundred years. It is not far as the crow flies, but the pathway meanders up the mountain and so it took me a couple of hours, treading carefully in the snow so as not to slip.

As I exited, the station master took my ticket, raising his eyebrows at the sight of this foreigner dressed in pilgrim’s robes carrying an image of Kannon with a backpack full of prayers on her back. I felt sure he was thinking “Whatever will these crazy foreigners do next?!” and felt a little uncomfortable under his gaze. However, as I stepped out into the snow, walking towards the bridge that marked the start of the path, the station master called after me, “Wait!” I turned to see him running after me with something in his hand. Thinking I’d left something on the train I walked back towards him. He stopped and made a slight bow to me before placing in my hands a hot can of green tea. He bowed again and said “Good luck!” before turning smartly and returning to his post before I could respond. I called back “Thank you – I will do my best!” which is the traditional response of the pilgrim and suggests that the pilgrimage will be undertaken not just for oneself but for all beings. His simple act of generosity touched me deeply and as I drank the tea, it warmed not just my body but my heart as well and I took this as a very auspicious omen that the spirit of Kannon, as well as her embodiment in the image I carried, would be travelling with me.

There is a saying often seen printed on pilgrim’s clothing, bags and other accessories that says “Ninin Dogyo” which means “Two people – same journey,” meaning that the pilgrim is never alone and Kannon is always walking beside you. The Japanese character for “journey” can also mean “austerities,” perhaps reflecting the very real hazards and physical challenges of the journey, but also refers to the pilgrimage as a spiritual practice that is not conducted alone but with the aid of Kannon. There are physical challenges like dealing with mountain paths and inclement weather and long days on the road, but there are also spiritual challenges as the energy of these sacred sites gradually penetrates your soul and causes sometimes quite painful awareness as you confront your own spiritual weaknesses.

As I crossed the snow-capped red bridge that led into the sacred landscape of Koyasan, the can of tea warming my hands, I was aware that my solitary journey was joined not only by Kannon but by the one thousand seven hundred people whose prayers I carried, for we were all undertaking this journey together and this was our first step.