The Global Grandma: Chikurin-ji Buddhist Temple in Kochi, Japan.

Kochi, or Off the Beaten Path.

Story Three: Chikurin-ji Buddhist Temple.

This day in the small city turned out to be one of the most memorable.

Although every day spent in Japan, where we sailed around almost the entire country on the Celebrity Millennium liner, was special, and it’s pleasant to recall both all the stops and the days spent on the ship.

There were three of us traveling (three teachers, two of whom are already retired).

It was the fifth day of our cruise. A stop in the small city of Kochi. We had planned to visit the city’s symbol—the Harimaya-bashi bridge, a market, the castle, a Buddhist temple, and an observation deck! Imagine, all of this in one day. And we visited it all ourselves, without any excursions booked through the cruise.

Of the entire list, the most memorable was the visit to the Chikurin-ji Buddhist temple.

So, this story is about the temple and the walk through its amazing garden. You’ll be looking at photos as the story progresses.

I only fear that the photos taken there won't be able to convey all the charm of the place. It was the most poetic walk of the entire cruise.

When talking about the temple, I can’t avoid retelling moments from its history. Don't skip these parts; I think they best explain the amazing atmosphere of peace and balance with the world that we felt in the garden. We were practically the only visitors. (To be precise, there was also a family from Brazil.) So in the photos, besides us, there is only the temple and only the garden. This near-absolute solitude with the world, nature, humanity, and history—that was the charm that gradually enveloped you there.

Chikurin-ji (literally, the "Bamboo Grove Temple") is located on Godai-san mountain.

You won't see bamboo in the photos; it’s mostly maple trees there. On the way back down the mountain, however—we walked down to the city—the road went through a bamboo forest.

The temple was founded in 724 AD. What year is it now? How old is the temple? Did you calculate it? (Just don't pull out a calculator; calculate it in your head! Calculate, calculate, I’ll give the answer later.)

The temple was built before the Shogunates were established, during the short Nara Period (710–794). Emperor Shōmu ruled at that time.

Note: Emperor Shōmu went down in history as the greatest patron of Buddhism in Japan. He initiated a large-scale program to create a network of state Buddhist temples (the Kokubun-ji system) to use the power of Buddhism to protect the country and stabilize society during a period of frequent epidemics and disasters. His main project was the construction of Tōdai-ji Temple in Nara, at that time the capital of Japan, which is now a small city near Kyoto. Shōmu ordered the casting of the gigantic bronze Daibutsu—the Great Buddha Vairocana—at Tōdai-ji, which remains one of the largest bronze statues of Buddha in the world. This statue symbolized that the Imperial power served the protection and spread of the Buddha's Teachings, thereby giving legitimacy to his rule.

Just by walking through the parks and temples, you get to know the history of Japan.

How old is the temple? Didn't you count?! Alright, alright... Chikurin-ji Temple is 1,301 years old (as of this year, 2025).

Let's continue... Emperor Shōmu ordered the monk Gyōki to find a mountain similar to the sacred Mount Wutai in China, where Monju Bosatsu—the Bodhisattva of Wisdom—resides. The fact is, Emperor Shōmu chose China as the model for building his own state.

Gyōki chose this very mountain—Godai-san in Kochi—and built the Chikurin-ji monastery here.

Gyōki became famous because, contrary to tradition, he was engaged not only in meditation but also in active social work: building bridges, roads, irrigation systems, and public temples for ordinary people.

The Bodhisattva Monju Bosatsu, who embodies Wisdom and Intellect, is worshipped at Chikurin-ji Temple.

My dear reader, I suspect you have no idea who Bodhisattvas are (but I've told you already...—that's me, grumbling like any teacher...). Alright, I'll briefly repeat it.

A Bodhisattva is a being who has attained enlightenment but has refused or consciously postponed personal Nirvana, in order to compassionately help all other beings achieve Enlightenment. A Bodhisattva is an object of worship in a Buddhist temple. There are many of them. The most famous are: Kannon—the Bodhisattva of Boundless Compassion, Samantabhadra—the Bodhisattva of Practice, and Monju Bosatsu—the Bodhisattva of Wisdom and Intellect.

Monju Bosatsu is revered by students and scholars; those seeking clarity of mind and knowledge go here on pilgrimage, and people pray to him for wisdom, academic, and personal success.

It's no coincidence that we—all three teachers—chose to visit this place! Even though we chose it intuitively.

But the statue of Monju Bosatsu cannot be seen; it is a Secret Buddha, a so-called Hibutsu. Hibutsu are kept deep inside the temple, in closed cabinets, and are forbidden to be viewed. In most cases, they are not just hidden behind doors but are literally forbidden for viewing even by the temple attendants.

Some can be seen once every 33 years or once every 50–60 years. It is believed that the monastery's founder, the monk Gyōki, himself carved the statue of the Bodhisattva of Wisdom—Monju Bosatsu—out of sandalwood for Chikurin-ji Temple. He is usually depicted with a sword in his hand, cutting away delusions, and riding a lion—the symbol of the fearlessness of knowledge, but as far as can be judged from information on the internet, no one has seen the statue for a long time. No one describes what it looks like. And I can't help you; we didn't see the statue.

This is the main temple gate—the entrance symbolizing the transition from a mundane space to a sacred one.

In the side niches are formidable guardians, warding off evil spirits and protecting the temple. Unfortunately, I couldn't photograph them; they are protected by a net, and the camera wouldn't focus.

Excuse me, I paused for photos, but the story about the monks is not yet finished.

There were several of them in the history of this monastery.

Remember Emperor Shōmu? (By the way, for all Russian speakers, the names will sound... I'm searching for the word... unusual? unfamiliar? Perhaps Japanese names will bring a smile; the names will sound similar to Russian words, evoking associations that are absent in Japanese. And they sound different to all foreigners. So smile—and read on.)

Emperor Shōmu is one of the few emperors who abdicated the throne (in 749) and took monastic vows. He put his daughter on the throne, took the monastic name Shōman... and the title Hō-ō, which can be translated as the "Buddhist King."

(And you thought he completely renounced power! Is it possible to renounce power? I mean, renounce it yourself? Well, well...)

The monk Gyōki (668–749. How long did he live? We're counting, counting; our reading today is not passive at all. No, I feel like I won't succeed the second time. He lived a long life: eighty-one years.)

According to legend, he chose the mountain, founded Chikurin-ji in 724 on the order of Emperor Shōmu, and personally carved the statue of Monju Bosatsu.

Eighty years after its founding, many buildings had fallen into disrepair. The monastery was visited by a monk named Kūkai. Born with the name Saeki-no Mao, he was given the name Kūkai, which literally means "Sea of Emptiness," when he took monastic vows, and is now better known in Japan as Kōbō-Daishi, a title bestowed upon him by Emperor Daigo after his death. The title means "Great Teacher - Propagator of the Dharma," meaning the Buddhist teaching. Japanese people sometimes affectionately call him Odaishi-sama—the Great Teacher. He is the founder of the important school of Shingon esoteric Buddhism.

This story is a chain; just as I learned about the monks, I needed to figure out the teachings. And I stepped onto a field that is completely not mine; I'm a Russian language and literature teacher! I learn it myself—and I share it with you, because photos alone aren't enough for a travel story.

As a result of my information search, I summarized: "Esoteric Buddhism is Buddhism that adds rituals, symbols, and meditative techniques (mantras, mudras, mandalas) to the traditional teaching to help practitioners achieve the highest goal faster, while keeping these methods secret from the uninitiated."

To put it more simply, esoteric Buddhism, as I understood it, secretly teaches how to achieve Nirvana within a single lifetime, not to wait for rebirths, and keeps the method a secret.

So, Kūkai, the founder of this teaching, renovated the monastery buildings and included it in the pilgrimage route to 88 temples. This happened around 806–810 AD. May believers forgive me for the comparison, but it’s like posting information about a temple on the internet today. Everyone started visiting!

Then the monk Musō Kokushi came to the monastery.

(Did you smile at the name? Musō Kokushi, 1275–1351. I won't ask you to calculate this time; I'll just tell you: he lived 76 years. Monks had long lives.)

His birth name was Yoshiaki, his monastic name was Musō Soseki, and Kokushi means "Teacher of the Country" or "National Mentor." This is a very high honorary title conferred by imperial decree upon the most outstanding Buddhist monks who served as spiritual guides for the country and the imperial court.

Musō Kokushi lived under seven (seven!) emperors, and not only lived under them but was the mentor to seven emperors, and all seven conferred the honorary title of "Kokushi" upon him. Here, in Chikurin-ji Monastery, he lived for two years, teaching young monks.

And most importantly, he designed this garden!

Well, at least that's what some articles on the internet say...

Musō Kokushi was not only a Zen master, poet, and calligrapher, but also a talented landscape designer.

Musō Kokushi didn't just plant a garden; he embodied the principles of the Zen Buddhist philosophy he created in his design.

Even if it wasn't him, even if it's just our imagination, the park is unusual and worth a visit.

It’s impossible to separate the history of the place from the description of the garden; everything in life is interconnected. So I've given you a lecture on the monks, and I need to summarize (I am a teacher, after all): Gyōki is the founding monk, and Kūkai and Musō Kokushi are the key figures who made this monastery an important religious and cultural center.

No, no, that's not all; let's continue our walk through the garden. Distract yourself from your everyday life, just as we did, forgetting all our problems in that garden.

The stones and rocks in the garden symbolize mountains, islands, or even sages and teachers. Stones represent eternity and constancy.

Water—at Chikurin-ji, it’s a real pond—symbolizes the ocean or the human journey of life, which is changeable and flowing.

Contemplating the stones and water allows one to detach from worldly worries and immerse oneself in the contemplation of "absolute truth and emptiness."

Everything around is simple, natural, in muted tones; everything is calming, and gradually you concentrate on your feelings, your sensations of "here and now."

The garden is a microcosm, a reduced model of the world or the Universe. It seems a natural part of the forest and the slopes of Godai-san mountain.

On one hand, it is asymmetrical and imperfect, like our world. On the other hand, the garden evokes a sense of its wholeness, a feeling of absolute beauty, a deep, mysterious, subtle, and indescribable feeling of the significance of our existence, the significance of our life's journey, which cannot be grasped logically.

All this philosophy finds its material embodiment in the architectural center of the garden—the magnificent pagoda.

How do you feel about the age of the objects you visit during your travels?

If I show you a photo of the pagoda and tell you it was built in the 13th century, how will you perceive the structure?

And if I tell you it was built in 1980, will your attitude towards the pagoda change?

It will change! I’m afraid I’m right. But why, exactly?

A much older, three-story pagoda, the Sanjū-no-tō, once stood where the current pagoda is. But in 1899, the original pagoda was destroyed by a powerful typhoon.

About eighty years after the destruction, the pagoda was recreated on the same spot, using architectural drawings in the 13th-century style. Built from hinoki cypress (Japanese cypress), the pagoda is tall, and at just over thirty meters, it is the only five-story pagoda in Kochi.

The color red is important for temples: it wards off spirits and diseases and delineates sacred space.

For us tourists, the bright color of the pagoda contrasts magnificently with the lush greenery, making the pagoda very picturesque. And if the vivid colors of maple leaves are added—it's a feast for photo-pilgrims.

Do you remember I asked you to remember the shade of red—vermilion? They write on the internet that the pagoda is painted a bright cinnabar-red or bright orange-red; in real life, it looked more brick-red, terracotta, to me.

I didn't know that the very structure of the pagoda is a symbol of the Buddha and also symbolizes Buddhist cosmology: the base is the Earth, the lower tier is Water, the spire is Fire, the moon above the spire is Air, and the ball at the very top is Void/Consciousness.

I walked around the Pagoda, trying to take beautiful photos, and it turned out that pilgrims and believers perform a ritual circuit of the pagoda—a clockwise walk to accumulate merit and show respect.

And so, I expressed my respect for the creators of the beauty that makes one contemplate.

There were many places in the garden where one could find solitude... sit... think...

No matter where we live, where we travel, or what faith we adhere to, we are inhabitants of the Earth (excuse me if that sounds pompous), sharing one lifetime.

In the park, the exceptional beauty of our existence and the unstoppable fleetingness of our life were particularly acutely felt.

***

Continuing my path through the garden, I came across this place.

At first, I thought it was a cat cemetery.

But then I found a sign where the explanation was, thankfully, also provided in English.

It turned out that there is a local legend in Kochi about the "Lucky Cat." The legend says that in the Kitamura family in Kochi City, a cat was born with a spot on its back in the shape of the character "北" (Kita, or "north"). After the appearance of this cat, the family began to prosper financially. In gratitude for the well-being brought by the cat, the family members donated this image to the temple. And the image of this cat became an additional talisman for everyone praying for academic success.

Oh, I completely forgot to tell you! My memory is becoming unreliable...

Not only the legend of the cat is connected with this place.

Do you remember the red Harimaya-bashi bridge in the center of Kochi? The girl named O-Uma, the daughter of a tinsmith who lived near the bridge? Do you remember the young monk named Junshin who bought her a red decorative hair comb? Well, Junshin was a monk right here; he took his vows of celibacy here and was expelled from here for violating his vows.

How wonderfully it turned out for us: we started our acquaintance with Kochi with the legend of the lovers—and we ended it with the same story.

Although the temple was not the final point of our walk in Kochi, we still had to reach the observation deck, which offered colorful views of the city.