The eternal, ephemeral and modern of Japan

Recently, the weather in Tokyo has taken a turn for the worse. On Wednesday, there was snow slush in the streets. Thus the cherry blossoms, which are naturally short-lived, have suffered horribly and the streets are filled with brown and trampled petals. During the peak season, though, I luckily made it to Sensōji Temple, a prime spot in Tokyo for flower viewing.

Sensōji is Tokyo’s oldest standing temple and is dedicated to Kannon, a major bodhisattva in both Japanese and Chinese Buddhism. She takes on many forms but is most often venerated as the goddess of mercy, and many pray to her for success or freedom from suffering. I myself went up the grand steps of the main temple to throw a 5-yen coin (around five cents) into the offering box and ask for her divine guidance. As a good luck charm, I carry around a small omamori (protective charm) from the temple as well, with the characters 心願成就, which translates roughly into “the answering of one’s prayers,” embroidered upon it.

I have been to Sensōji many times, but this time, I came for the cherry blossoms. There are small, quiet gardens scattered all over the temple grounds, and every time a breeze came through, it would ruffle the trees and small pink petals would come sailing into the palm of my hand. Going down a wide sidewalk, I could see the cherry blossoms and temple to my right and in the distance, the hazy outline of Tokyo Skytree, one of the tallest towers in Japan. Looking at this blend of the old and eternal, the ephemeral and the new, I felt a deep affection for the aesthetics and scenery of Japan.