Calendar

It would take many tomes to relate the history and traditions that make up the fabric of Kyoto, this city which was the capital of Japan for over a millennium. In this year’s calendar, we take up a few old sayings related to certain famous historical events, places, and customs. Through them, we are able to draw out some of the finer threads which lie interwoven in that fabric, and fill in a bit more of the intricate tapestry that represents the city of Kyoto in all its dimensions and shades of color.

The artwork on the January-February page shows the Kamogawa River which flows from north to south down the eastern side of the city, and which is among this city’s most familiar scenic features. In the context of this year’s calendar theme, it leads us to the old saying that “Heian-kyō, the Capital of Peace, is a city that matches with ‘the four godly spirits’.”

Heian-kyō, or “Capital of Peace,” was the name given to Kyoto when this city was originally constructed and established as the seat of the emperor and his government in 794 A.D., following its move from Nara and its short period of residence in Nagaoka-kyō, located west of Kyoto. The reigning emperor at the time was Kanmu (737-806), whose remarkable accomplishments ― especially, his establishment of the “Capital of Peace” ― place him among the most famous emperors in Japanese history. When he was searching for an appropriate site to build his new, magnificent capital that would be a fortress-like haven from the forces attempting to invade and overrun it ― forces which had caused him to abandon Nara in the first place ― his concern was to find a site that met four topographical conditions. Those conditions had their basis in Chinese theories of geomancy, and were related to the Chinese concept of “the four godly spirits” which reign over the four cardinal directions of the constellations.

“The four godly spirits” take the imaginative form of four fantastic creatures. Governing the north is Genbu, a tortoise encircled by a serpent; governing the east is Seiryū, an East Asian form of dragon; governing the south is Suzaku, a giant vermilion bird resembling a phoenix; and governing the west is Byakko, a white tiger. Emperor Kanmu, when he came upon the Kyoto basin, had found the perfect site. It had the necessary mountain in the north, river in the east, lake in the south, and roadway in the west. Specifically, there was Mount Funaoka in the north, the Kamogawa River in the east, the large Oguraike Pond (no longer extant) in the south, and the San’indo Road along the west. Emperor Kanmu had his new capital built on the model of China’s cosmopolitan capital of the Tang Dynasty, Chang’an. It was laid out in a grid pattern, with a wide central avenue which dissected the eastern and western quarters. Here, in and around the Capital of Peace, there flowered the elegant culture of Japan’s Heian Period (794–1185).

Moving to the March-April page, the artwork offers a view through the massive front gate of Konkai Kōmyōji temple on a spring day when the cherry blossoms are at their peak. This serene temple, also known as Kurodani, traces its founding to the year 1175, when the founder of Japan’s Pure Land (Jōdo) sect of Buddhism, St. Hōnen, stayed at this location after leaving the monastery at Mount Hiei in the northeast of Kyoto, and came down into the city to propagate his new Pure Land teaching. Among the impressive structures on the temple grounds, there is a three-storied pagoda which enshrines a statue of the legendary bodhisattva Manjusri (Monju bosatsu). Manjusri was endowed with great wisdom and thus has been revered as a symbol of wisdom. The Japanese have an old saying, “If three people get together, the wisdom of Manjushri,” which is to say that the combined wisdom of three people can produce astoundingly wise results. With its reference to Manjushri, this familiar old saying, often likened to the English proverb that “two heads are better than one,” is revealing of the pervasive influence of Buddhism in Japan.

The artwork on the May-June page shows the entrance gate of Chohōji temple, familiarly known as the Rokkakudō or “Hexagonal Temple,” located near the center of downtown Kyoto. It is summer, and the willow tree that stands just within the old gate is lush. Venture through gate, and one can see the hexagonal main temple pavilion with its unique slate tile roof, as well as other six-sided things here and there. Among them is a relatively flat stone just 45 cm in diameter, having a hole in the center. It is said to represent the navel of Kyoto.

The history of the Rokkakudō supposedly predates the founding of Emperor Kanmu’s Capital of Peace. According to legend, it was founded by Prince Shōtoku (574–622), who was camped at the site after having gone swimming in the pond there on that hot summer day. In the night, he had a dream in which the bodhisattva Kannon, “Goddess of Compassion,” appeared before him and told him to build a six-sided temple on the spot and enshrine her within it. Going by this, the Rokkakudō was in existence almost two centuries before Emperor Kanmu drew up his city plans. The plans had it that a street would cut through the Rokkakudō. Something had to be done to save it, so the Emperor sent a messenger to make prayers and plead, “Please move a little.” And what do you know, the six-sided pavilion enshrining the bodhisattva Kannon moved to its current location about 15 meters north overnight. However, one cornerstone was left behind; the so-called navel stone, or “hesoishi,” that has come down to the present day. For centuries, it was situated in the middle of Rokkaku-dōri street, and closely marked the center of the city, but because of traffic concerns, it was relocated to its present site at the temple. It may not exactly mark the center of Kyoto, but still is known as “the navel stone of the Rokkakudō,” or also, “the navel stone of Kyoto.”

For July-August, we see a feast of gourmet delights such as one might enjoy in Kyoto around the time of the famous Gion Festival that takes place over the month of July. The festival is represented in the picture by a red, miniature festival float rooftop halberd decorating the table, and the paper lanterns which are hung as offerings of light to the Shintō deities to which the festival is dedicated. All the various foods have hamo, the Japanese word for pike conger, as their chief ingredient. This is all to represent the old saying that “the Gion Festival is the hamo festival.”

In ancient times, hamo was one of the few fish tough enough to survive a multi-day journey to the inland capital. It is an aggressive fish with sharp teeth and long, eel-like body, and it has an astonishing 1,200 bones which are impossible to remove. It was prized by the Kyoto aristocracy, and it remains an expensive Kyoto delicacy. Especially at the end of the rainy season, this white-meat fish is rich in umami and nutrition, and that is when it is considered hamo season in Kyoto, where chefs are highly trained in the art of making the bones virtually disappear. This involves using a very sharp, large and heavy knife to make precision cuts in the fish’s opened body without cutting the skin, at about 24 cuts per inch, or 8 cuts per cm. This renders the bones unnoticeable and edible. The Kyoto aristocracy, with their delicate cultural tastes and sensibilities, were directly or indirectly responsible for the development of many of the fields of craftsmanship for which Kyoto has been known, and we could say that the art of preparing hamo is among them.

On the September-October page is a view of the magnificent main building of one of Kyoto’s most famous temples, Kiyomizu-dera, the “Temple of Pure Water,” located halfway up Mount Otowa, one of the peaks in the mountain range along the eastern side of the Kyoto basin. Kiyomizu-dera actually comprises thirty Buddhist buildings, spread over thousands of square meters along the slope of Mount Otowa. Its National Treasure main building is the one famed for its wide balcony overhanging the steep slope below, supported on wooden pillars and crosspieces which act as scaffolding and have sturdily upheld the building through centuries of earthquakes and heavy storms. This balcony offers a picturesque view of the city nestled in the basin beyond, with gorgeous scenery that spreads out in the foreground below. The wide balcony, referred to in Japanese as the temple’s butai, or “stage,” is the place given in the old phrase, “To jump off the Kiyomizu stage,” used to mean “take the plunge and hope for the best.”

The year’s last page, for November-December, has to do with the saying that “if the Kōbō-san day is fair weather, the Tenjin-san day will be rainy.” The artwork shows a scene around one of the entrance gates of Tōji Temple on one of its “Kōbō-san” festival days held on the 21st of each month, which attracts throngs of pilgrims and others out to enjoy the flea market for which the festival is well-known. Just five days from this monthly festival at Tōji Temple, there is the equally popular monthly Tenjin-san festival held on the 25th at Kitano Tenmangu Shrine, with its flea market.

The weather around Kyoto, even in these unpredictable times, tends to change in a relatively regular cycle, so that oftentimes if skies are clear on one day, rain clouds will dominate around five days later. People with interests in the Kōbō-san and Tenjin-san festivals, including the flea-market vendors themselves, are keen to have the festival fall on a clear, dry day, for the weather greatly affects the number of visitors, and the vendors might not be able to even set out their goods. It will be especially wonderful if both festivals this year, 2022, can be held amid fine weather, removed from pestilence and the ravages of any natural disasters.

Gretchen Mittwer