What I Found on the Mountain—A Photo Essay
[Level 1: Transitional] Spoiler alert: it wasn't at the top
Most of the time when we hear of the mountain in spirituality or religion, it's about the summit—both the verb and the noun. The climbing is the action taken to reach the Divine. The peak is the sacred meeting place in Nature where the communion happens.
Two months ago, I set out to summit Mount Kurama—one of the many sacred mountains in Japan. But the most profound experience wasn’t waiting for me at the top, or even at any of the temples along the way. It wasn’t an insight, a vision, or some kind of revelation.
It was picking up a flower.
A curious red blossom
Prior to making it out to Mount Kurama or even Kyoto, I was on a hike with my husband to an Edo-era tea house. Shortly after getting off the bus and walking for a short while, we passed by a small peeling red Torii gate right off the historic Tokaido Trail.
I felt drawn in after expressing a desire to see one of the less frequented shrines, especially after several days in Tokyo. As I walked up the stone stairs, I noticed delicate red blossoms scattered like deliberate offerings...until I looked up.
It was a flowering tree overarching the stairs—a Japanese camellia. Nature Herself had been placing fresh offerings along the steps.
After a moment of awe, I paid my respects at the shrine, made an offering, and took my leave...and a couple photos on the way out to memorialize the encounter.
An unexpected offering
Only a few days later, after taking the shinkansen to Kyoto, I went on a hike again, this time alone.
After getting my ticket and walking up the steps to the first set of shrines, I spotted another camellia tree dropping its red blossoms into the stream off the side of the path and more bruised blossoms scattered around. “I see You left me breadcrumbs,” I said under my breath.
As the path began to wind and ascend, I spotted a remarkably fresh bloom that looked as though it had just fallen onto the gravel below. I snapped a photo and kept walking...
...until the voice said seconds later to turn around and pick it up.
I did.
I thought I was going to carry it to the top. Not long up the path I saw exactly why it said that:
I looked over the three dozen blossoms along the stone pillars, wilting from resting there for some time, my eyes starting to water. I placed my offering on an empty pillar...just like I had done on a lone pillar at the Meiji shrine in the most quiet section. Just like the other people did here.
I started crying and had to sit on the bench I had most recently passed for several minutes—and I mean the kind of crying that leaves a string of snot hanging from your nose. I was just so overwhelmed by the significance of the moment—how it felt like it was staged for my participation—that I had to collect myself before I could proceed to the summit, Kurama-dera Temple, or even the Diamond Floor that I’d heard was a “power spot”.
The nexus of the mountain
After tripping and scuffing my phone, I eventually made it to the Diamond Floor in front of Kurama-dera Temple.
There was no one there yet since it was only 9 AM. I got to enjoy the late-season cherry blossoms and the quiet grounds for a few minutes before taking a deep breath and stepping into the center of the mandala. I gazed up at the mountain in reverence and closed my eyes.
But I felt nothing.
I tried stepping out, walking around some more, and stepping back into the center, but it was the same sense of nothingness. No change in energy, just…a nice view. I decided to just enter the main hall for the Goshuin entry—the temple’s calligraphy stamp.
I got the entry, a woven bracelet that was intended to remind me of the Buddha within me, and prayed at the main hall, but goofed with the Shinto style praying when this was a quiet Buddhist temple. Feeling embarrassed despite only the staff being present, I left and was on my way to the next (hopefully more promising) stop—the summit.
The summit
Eventually I made it to the part of the trail with roots raised out of the ground and a tree stump filled with stones left as offerings.
I sat on a bench in the designated meditation space nearby and tried to meditate, but ended up crying, asking what I was even doing here. I felt stupid—a random white lady crying on a mountain trying to find something. I felt like a fool. I sat there for about half an hour, but the meditation wasn’t very peaceful or deep.
The way back
I continued on my hike until I reached the last shrine on the other side of the mountain after hiking down from the meditation area near the top. After another Goshuin entry, I found a handkerchief tucked into the corner of the shrine shop. It felt incredibly fitting, providing the exact change needed for the water fortune paper.
I decided to skip lunch on the river, interested in making my way back. As I was nearing the meditation space again, sweating my ass off, stomach growling, a prayer came:
God, all my life I thought I had to earn You—to earn love. It’s second nature. I forgot my first.
Please help me remember.
Please help me remember.
Please help me remember.
I sat on one of the benches again and this time felt the Presence—more strongly than anywhere on the mountain. I left a final camellia in offering that I’d been carrying since I picked it up near the entrance on the other side of the mountain.
When I did make it back to the Diamond Floor, there were about a dozen people there in groups and chatting on the periphery. I walked into the center of the mandala one last time, looked up at the mountain, and closed my eyes. For some reason, I felt energy through my entire spinal column like I was plugged into something. It wasn’t intense, but it was definitely noticeable. I’m not sure what changed, other than the time of day and my blood sugar levels.
As I was making my way back down to the entrance of the mountain, I heard one of the hikers coming up make a delighted remark to his partner about the row of blossoms that I had placed my offering in earlier. I couldn’t help but smile.
In the end, it wasn’t a mountain summit or a power spot that stuck with me most, but a simple blossom.