Permission to Enter 14th Century Mystery

The Moss Temple at Saiho-ji

by William Will

Saiho-ji is situated at the foot of the Western hills of Kyoto, just a bit south of Tenryu-ji and to me it is the the most magical garden I expect to see in this lifetime. Our group approaches the small entrance gate by following a long moat that surrounds the southern side of the garden. Also known as Koke-dera, the Moss Temple, it is a large pond garden originally laid out in the 14th century in its current form, with origins going back to the 8th century. Today visitors must write for permission to visit the garden, so our group gets in line at the appointed time, waiting anxiously to see one of the most often cited and photographed examples of the Japanese garden.

Upon entering through a small gate we remove our shoes and are ushered into a small temple, in which lines of low tables each have a copy of a sutra, an ink brush and some fine Japanese paper waiting for us. While the buddhist monks in attendance start their service by chanting we each do our best to trace the Japanese characters in front of us, slowly falling into a meditative state that prepares us for the experience of this place. Although the Japanese visitors are expected to complete the entire sutra, foreigners are shown some compassion and may enter after showing honest effort in using the ink brushes in front of them.

We are directed to put our shoes back on and silently enter the garden thru another small gate that separates the current temple from the wider walled expanse of the garden. We descend slightly, following the garden path into a dark woodland with many Japanese maples and Cryptomeria trees. At the center, a winding pond reflects the light and outlines the single path we are to take to circumnavigate this place.

Most of the old structures disappeared a long time ago, now only visible as foundation remnants at the edge of the pond. It is this feeling of an ancient sacred place that makes Saiho-ji special. The path is constructed of single, different sized pavers, and reminds me of the old cobblestone streets I’ve seen in Europe, tread for centuries by generations of visitors.

Moss covers the entire surface of the forest floor, and only here and there does one encounter a leaf that has changed color and fallen to the ground. The atmosphere is quiet and moist, and just after we enter the sun breaks through the cloud cover and dapples of sun add highlights to the finely textured green carpet. The trees have started changing color and bursts of orange appear here and their as the light changes and the rays move through the canopy.

Saiho-ji defies any classification to me. It is a different kind of space due to its age and due to the moss carpet that has formed through the centuries. As I pass through this ‘garden of eden’ I watch a gardener here and there, sweeping the moss for leaves and carefully tending to this magical place with his hand made broom. I imagine the generations that have come before him, gently shaping and nurturing everything in a way that has determined the garden’s current state. In that moment I realize, what makes this garden unique, and I understand fully what distinguishes it from any garden I have seen before.

As I leave this place I am filled with a deep reverence for the Japanese people, their religions and culture for creating this sanctuary of the human spirit.