Tenryu-ji. Norris Brock Johnson
people walk to the central area of the temple, is lined with coniferous and deciduous trees. Glancing upward while walking within several areas here, we experience the billowing foliage of green under which we pass as a floral nest of sky. We move ever deeper, more intimately, into the verdant silence of the temple.
FIGURE 5. A map and aerial view of the present-day central area of the complex. Main entrances into the complex are to the east (toward the lower-center of the photograph). At present, public visitors to the temple use the entrance to the right of the center axis and approach the pond garden by walking around the southern (left) side of the Abbot’s Quarters.
FIGURE 6. The main buildings and features of nature making up the present-day principal aspects of the complex: (A) Mountain of Storms (Arashiyama); (B) Turtle Mountain (Kameyama); (C) Abbot’s Quarters (Dai Hōjō); (D) the pond (Sōgenchi); (E) Guest Quarters (Ko Hōjō); (F) present-day reception building (Kuri); (G) sand garden (karesansui); (H) present-day entrance route, pointing west; (I) Rinsen-ji; (J) present-day location of the Moon-Crossing Bridge; (K) Lecture Hall (Hattō).
Through subtlety of architectural design, we experience the landscape aspect of the temple as a sequence of gradually unfolding vistas. The sensate experience is that the landscape aspect of the temple is an exquisite three-dimensional painting, through which we move. The experience is akin to the manner in which we experience a hand-scrolled painting of a landscape, an emakimono (絵巻物, picture scroll). Emakimono influenced the design of gardens, during the eleventh to thirteenth centuries in particular. Emakimono, such as the important Genji Monogatari Emaki (Illustrated Tale of Genji), combine both characters and images painted on paper or silk, ranging nine to twelve meters in length, furled at the left-end onto a dowel rod. Emakimono were experienced by unfurling text and image such that landscapes and commentary flowed scene-by-scene between one’s hands. The landscape of an emakimono is not experienced all at once; similarly, the landscape aspect of the temple is not experienced all at once. Gates, foliage, and building architecture by design focus awareness on each area through which we pass. By design one is prompted, nonverbally, to pause briefly within defined areas of the temple so as to experience the landscape as though there is nothing else to the temple except this place and this space. This moment. And then … we move on.
The walkway opens to broad steps in front of the reception building entrance to the pond garden. Climbing the stone steps, then pausing to glance back along the tree-lined pathway, the world outside the front gates of the temple now cannot be seen or heard. Silence shimmers in the air and hangs in folds, a garment worn by the temple itself (figs. 11–13).3
We pass through the reception building, and enter areas preparatory to experience of the pond garden. Now, the walkway under our feet is pebbled stones shifting slightly under our weight, cushioning our footfalls. A rectangular expanse of gravel (枯山水, karesansui, dry-landscape garden) lies to the left of the footpath.4 The design of the landscape guides our movements, pace, and direction, as the walkway winds around and to the rear of the Abbot’s Quarters (figs. 14–16).
FIGURE 7. The present-day main public entrance to the temple.
FIGURE 8. This secondary gateway provides a quiet entrance into the temple, an alternative to the busy entrance near the bus stop (fig. 7). Maps of the complex name early versions of this entrance Honmon (本門, Origin Gate; Gate-to-Enlightenment).
FIGURE 9. Upon entering the complex, one passes over a bridge-covered stream. The avenue leads from the front gates to the central area of the complex, with the dramatic façade of the present-day reception building in the distance.
FIGURE 10. From this vantage the reception building appears embraced within a nest of trees, emphasizing the manner in which nature by design still is experienced as a constituent aspect of the temple.
FIGURE 11. The approach to and front area of the reception building, through which one passes to experience the pond garden.
The Quarters of the Abbot of the Temple (Dai Hōjō) is a magnificent building, elegant in varied hues of aged wood (figs. 16, 26, 29). The deep, sloping eaves of the roof are a haven for shadows and birds that occasionally fly, chirping, through and about the building.
The lines of the footpath and the lines of the Abbot’s Quarters visually converge in the distance, pointing our way to the present-day central area of the temple.
Myriad clusters of trees frame the rear of the Abbot’s Quarters. Visually, it appears that we will walk into the wooded area ahead but, at its end, the footpath abruptly turns to the right. And, as if unfolding into existence upon our approach, the pond in the garden appears quite suddenly before us (figs. 17–21).
FIGURE 12. This dramatic arrangement of stones in front of the reception building is intended to evoke the mythic mountain of Meru (figs. 75, 76).
FIGURE 13. The roof to the left shelters the east-facing front veranda of the Abbot’s Quarters. There are two types of garden within the present-day temple complex. The rectangular bed of gravel and sand (karesansui), to the right, is a recent addition to the temple. In a complementary fashion, this garden bed of gravel and sand was sited on the front eastern-side of the Abbot’s Quarters while the rear western-side of the Abbot’s Quarters faces the pond garden.
An oasis. An initial impression, feeling, about the pond is of an oasis. Stones of varied size and shape are strewn about in the water of the expansive pond, each and every stone long ago having been placed by hand. Large and small, dark as well as light in color, jagged as well as smooth of form and texture, the very presence of the aged stones compels attention. The more one sustains awareness of and contemplates the garden pond, the more one becomes aware of an intricacy of design and complexity of arrangement with respect to the stones in the water (figs. 22–24).
Water shimmers under expansive stands of trees, defining the far shoreline across the pond. The trees lead our eyes upward, directing our awareness to panoramic vistas of mountain and sky.
Visual awareness is complemented by faint sounds stimulating aural awareness of the pond garden:
“Plop” “Plop” “Plop”
Myriad fish, koi, on the pond’s surface leap up briefly into air and sunlight then flip downward into the water (fig. 25). One becomes aware of stillness, and one’s breathing.
For many people, as we will see, the experience of the pond garden aspect of the temple continues to impart feelings of renewal (心が洗われた気持ち, kokoro ga arawareta kimochi)—emotionally, physically, and spiritually.
Wafting gently through the trees, the wind is the scent of life.
The Life of a Garden
Organized into three parts, this book presents the origin, defining life experiences, and salient present-day aspects of an influential temple and its celebrated pond garden. Earth and stone, water, and human activity (as