Life behind the temple walls

IN IRIS FIELDS: REMEMBRANCES AND POETRY OF ABBESS KASANOIN JIKUN

Edited by Barbara Ruch

and Katsura Michiko

288 pages

MANILA, Philippines - Until very recently, most people would not have heard of the Imperial Convents of Kyoto and Nara. Largely unknown to the public and open on rare occasions, these convents hold treasures and stories of Japan’s imperial past and its classic art forms. From the 13th century until the fall of the Tokugawa Shogunate in 1868, a long line of abbesses — the daughters of emperors and shoguns devoted their lives to the practice of worship rituals and preserving the traditions of court that spans centuries. Through its research and publications, the Institute for Medieval Japanese Studies in Kyoto, with director Barbara Ruch, has shed light on a little-known world where women played a leading role in the establishment of Japanese Buddhism, founding convents and temples, and presiding over ceremonials and seasonal celebrations. In time, these women of faith became the guardians of a storied heritage. Professor Barbara Ruch explains: “The medieval wars and the deteriorated conditions within the court itself would have wiped these things away had they not been lovingly preserved by the women who lived in the imperial convents over the centuries.” 

The writings of the late Abbess Kasanoin Jikun, In Iris Fields: Remembrances and Poetry, takes us back to those former times. Life in the Daishoji Imperial Convent of Kyoto was marked by the practice of age-old rituals, a reverence for nature, tales told from times past, reflections on gentle days and trying times. 

The essays take us through the childhood and the last days of Abbess Kasanoin, who served as the 27th Abbess of the Daishoji Imperial Convent. She entered the convent at the age of five and remained there for 90 years, witnessing momentous changes in Japanese life for most of the 20th century while engaged in preserving the most refined aspects of Japanese culture.

Daishoji was founded in the 14th century as one of the main Rinzai Zen convents in Japan and named the highest-ranking convent by Imperial decree in the mid-16th century. Since then, it became known as “The Temple Palace.” The duty of the princess-abbesses who led this temple was to pray for the health and longevity of the emperor, and the peace and security of the nation. The imperial princesses came to these convents as young girls to dedicate themselves to Buddhist learning and training. Early on, they were schooled in Japanese classical literature and the fine arts. Some of them stayed for a short period and others chose to devote their lives to spiritual practice. As the young princesses lived in these convents, they often received letters and gifts from the emperors and empresses. These fine objects included rare books, furnishings, scrolls and screens, paintings, lacquer ware and implements used for the tea ceremony and flower arrangement. The items were handed down from one generation to the next as part of the imperial legacy. After 1868, when Shinto became the official religion of Japan, the princesses of birth were not allowed to take Buddhist vows. Young girls with illustrious family backgrounds then took their places to become the future abbesses of the convents.

As extensions of the Imperial Palace, the rituals of court life were observed in the convents and viewed with much anticipation. The Abbess recalls the days filled with excitement leading up to the annual Doll Festival in early March. The Convent dolls were carefully kept in an old storehouse only to come to life again for the festival — each dressed in patterned clothes or in fine garments. The dolls were deemed as special beings with personalities all their own. During the festival, the dolls were arranged in a tiered display stand representing the entire court — from the emperor to the ministers and guard attendants along with miniature furniture and food offerings. Behind the display, stood a paneled screen in gold leaf depicting a scene from the classic novel, The Tale of the Genji. There, courtiers played kick-ball beneath a blossoming cherry tree, and Count Kashiwagi caught a first glimpse of his future love interest, Princess Sannomiya. The Abbess relives these moments with child-like wonder and joy. In lyrical prose, she writes of her offering to the festival dolls: “In the early evening now, when spring is still new, as I make my offerings of sweets to the festival doll on their little trays, and I light their paper lanterns, I feel that I am being transported back into the distant past.”

The past is remembered in light of the changing seasons, its rituals and those who personified the refinement of the age. There was Emperor Higashiyama, a devotee of Japanese poetry, who in a few lines captured the last days of autumn and the transitory nature of life in a letter written to his sister who entered the convent. There was Lady Yanagiwara, the birth mother of Emperor Taisho, who was one of the most esteemed lady poets of her day and who carried out court customs in such a manner that the Abbess likens a visit to her home to “watching a stage drama.” A deep appreciation for the past was not confined to the nobility. In 1922, when the convent lost part of its land to give way to a city plan to construct a streetcar line, the convent supporters from a nearby district pooled their resources to purchase several garden rocks that were uprooted from the temple grounds. The garden rocks were originally found in the estate of Shogun Ashikaga Yoshimitsu in the 14th century that later became the site of the Daishoji Imperial Convent. Eventually the rocks were used to decorate the new tea garden of the convent, essential to the practice of the tea ceremony. The Abbess looks back to those days with fond memories: “After all our labors, even today, I have not forgotten the joy we felt in 1937 at the opening of our tea house. That was the same year as the Marco Polo Bridge Incident and the fall of Nanjing. In my thoughts the singular passion and devotion that a woman named Fujiwara Musuko brought to the tea ceremony and our ancient rocks, transcend events of the ages… I pray that these calm and peaceful days will continue forever, and that no matter how much the world may change, one will always take full pleasure in practicing the way of tea.” Since her formal induction as the 27th Abbess of Daishoji in 1968, the convent has welcomed enthusiasts to attend its special school of tea and flower arrangement.

 Apart from a gift for prose, the Abbess was an accomplished poet and a member of the poetry society Hahakigi. The short poem form of the Abbess known as tanka is based on the classical waka form, but is free from the formal tone of these poems, as the translator Janine Beichman points out. In these few lines, the Abbess distills the essence of a moment:

 In the white plum blossoms

Outside the window

twilight glows—

wishing time would stop

I listen to the kettle boil

Bird voices pass by

The garden of cherry trees in leaf

undoing

The deep stillness

Of the tea ceremony room.

Her poems meld simple words and passing thoughts with natural imagery and references to the seasons. In her essays, the Abbess writes with elegance and grace as she rekindles the past and all its cherished memories. The life and times of the Abbess unfold slowly in these pages with its share of joys and lessons learned. She lived her days with gratitude for the gift that every moment brings. Even in times of personal loss, she turned to the all-encompassing power of nature to find solace and healing. As she shares personal stories and relives meaningful encounters, the Abbess brings to light the nuances of a culture and the aesthetic sensibilities of a people.

 A tribute to her life’s work and purpose came with the formal visit of Emperor Akihito and Empress Michiko in August 2004. The Emperor and Empress offered their gratitude for the historical objects that have been preserved with great care at the convent for nearly a thousand years. “Thank you for preserving the long history of this Imperial convent.” Their Imperial Majesties told the Abbess.

The stories told by Abbess Kasanoin Jikun, may seem like fairy tales from a time long gone — of court ladies who become fine poets and scholarly emperors who pause to reflect on life and the virtues of nature, of young girls who devote their lives to prayer, then grow up to become erudite women and guardians of a nation’s religious and imperial heritage. It may be the stuff that dreams are made of — yet it could not be more real.

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