A hidden temple, worship nature amongst the skyscrapers

We went to Tokyo, Japan for one of our anniversaries, and I can't imagine how I did it. By the second day, we both realized I'd be able to last a lot longer if I took my cane around. At least one other limb to let me know where the floor was as the trains, sidewalks and skyscrapers swung past me. I guess this little written travelogue is to remind myself that it is possible, that I can travel the world, even if sometimes, I stumble at the stoop at my door.

I wanted to see the large Meiji temple, a huge feature of the Shinto faith in Japan, and a beautiful temple to place your wishes. I never found out what I would wish for there. The temple wasn't just buildings to go visit and hanging boards of written characters. It was a huge park, with trees larger than the ones in Central Park, enveloping you, darkening the skies. Past the large Torii gate, I made it to the bridge, the one dividing this world from the spiritual one I wanted to get to. I ran out of breath halfway across. We gave up. Touching the gate, halfway across the bridge, the symbolism of the spirit world in the trees surrounding us, would have to be enough. At least at my current strength.

The corner coffeeshop back by the train station hid downstairs, dark lighting to ease my oncoming migraine. It was tea time, and time to try the famed fluffy pancakes. I was searching for these all through Tokyo! They were dense, like just a huge hostess cake, only natural, warm, calming. And a mont blanc icing on top, sweet, nutty, smooth chestnut and a light whipped cream underneath. The house blend was a gentle black tea. Basically just medicine at that time of the morning. I don't remember the details of the tea, I don't remember if I needed to take my regular pills or my emergency ones. I don't remember anything that wasn't captured by a camera... But I at least remember the atmosphere and feel of the place. I loved how it felt like a quiet hide out, like I could bury myself there, but still with a bit of a productive diner energy too.

But little did I know, that wasn't going to be my only opportunity to see a Shinto temple. Locked away, between two large skyscrapers, was a shaded alleyway, but the difference being the alleyway started with a Torii gate. I stopped dead in my tracks. My husband was worried that my legs were hurting again, or that I needed to sit. Then he saw what I was staring at.

I had to use my google translate camera to find out the lanterns were all donated by another individual. I thought the lanterns and cherry blossom on the side of the building was the temple, this hidden beauty, small wonders, subtle minimalism. My husband told me to keep going, there was another bridge, another gateway to the spiritual plane.

The river ran right through the city, and there was a temple across the way, facing the it. The rooftops of the temple buildings called to me. I nearly ran to the opposite street to a block that seemed more lived in. I went from a city of suits and high-pressured jobs, to basketball in the streets and tilted sidewalks, women pushing their shopping carts back home. The fence was 4 feet over my head and yet still wrapped in barbed wire. The second Torii gate was waiting for me. I took my time going through, trying to feel the difference in the air from the street to within the temple area. The stillness was sudden.

There were a number of buildings, a knotted tree, and a few shrines. One small one was angled oddly, facing the river for the dragon river spirit, another for a tunaki spirit, but the biggest one was for the Inari spirits. Two stood at sentry beside the donation box and bell. I threw in a 5 yen, go-yen, meaning lucky meeting. We prayed for a lucky meeting, either with the Inari spirits or someone else. Thinking back, I feel like I kept the dragon spirit with me. The dragon inspires me, makes me find my voice, reminds me. This hidden temple, locked away just for us, unplanned, opening my eyes to things we just couldn't have planned. When you can't do your plans, it doesn't mean that a void exists in that time. Something else happily meets up with you and beckons you forward. It was so much more meaningful, quiet and small, a restive place for a bit of worship and meditation.