Daitoku-ji Temple: The Heart of Zen Buddhism in Kyoto

The city of Kyoto was for centuries the imperial capital of Japan. Famous for its thousands of temples, it is the cradle of Buddhism in the Japanese archipelago. It was here that this new religion from the continent in the 6th century developed dramatically. On a hill north of the city stands one of the most sacred and secret places in Japan, the temple of Daitoguchi, a monastery built in the 14th century which still today trains many monks in the millennial practice of Zen Buddhism. In the heart of Daitoguchi, the day of the apprentice monk begins well before dawn. Gathered for the collective daily prayer, they recite the sutras, the sacred Buddhist texts, under the watchful eye of the Grand Master. The novices here receive one of the most renowned courses in Japan, which can last several years. Zen is considered as the purest form of Buddhism. It returns to Buddha's original teaching, which advocates a return to simplicity and to nature. Dominique Buisson, a writer and photographer, is a specialist of sacred Japanese architecture. The Daitoguchi is one of the most important temples of Zen Buddhism, particularly in Kyoto. It is a monastic complex that promotes this new religion, which arrived in Japan in its most radical form. Here we return to the basis of Buddhism, to a direct form of teaching. Therefore, in the monastic community, we no longer need images, no longer need sacred texts, no longer need complicated esotericism. Here, what counts is the teaching from man to man, from master to disciple. After the morning communal prayer, the apprentices prepare for the most important part of the training, the private meeting with the master. The master will ask a question, a koan, a paradoxical riddle to awaken the intuitive understanding of the student. The novice arrives with all his doubts, all his fears, all his imperfections, and the master must then start from here to help him reach a state where, potentially, thanks to the koan and thanks to meditation, he may be able to attain this famous satori, this temporary awakening which is close to the true awakening. To reach enlightenment, that is to say the state of Buddha, requires intense practice which is declined in each gesture of daily life, even the most insignificant. It must be done with as much fervor as possible to strengthen the ability to concentrate. Meditation is the other essential practice of monks. It takes place in these extremely simple rooms that highlight the geometry of the space and the nobility of the raw materials. Buddhist architecture reaches its purest form with Zen, where nothing is left to chance, and architecture, mainly of wood, where the relationship with nature is omnipresent. The sliding partitions create with the exterior framed scenes that constantly evolve with the seasons. The rooms can be adapted to the needs of the monks and are connected by open corridors. These passages have a practical but also symbolic function. They are a metaphor for the different cycles of life. Daitoku-ji, also known as Ryuho-san, which means Dragon Treasure Mountain, is a gigantic ensemble made of 22 small private temples spread over 23 hectares. Surrounded by their gardens, each of these temples is like a world in itself, a world integrated into nature. This is a monastery, not a site for visitors. Nevertheless, visitors do have access to three exceptional buildings. The monumental entranceway, which is called the Sanmon or Mountain Gate, which is followed by a huge building that houses the statue of Buddha. And finally, the preaching room. Thanks to its fabulous acoustics, this room can also exceptionally be used as a concert hall. This preaching room is called the Hato. It's a cube of perfect proportion. Today, an exceptional event is being prepared under the complicit gaze of the guardian of the place, the dragon. Tsutomu Yamashita, after a brilliant international percussion career, notably with Mick Jagger, returned to his hometown of Kyoto. He now performs with the monks of Daitoku-ji and is organizing a unique concert tonight. He became the master of Sanukite, the last to know how to play these stone percussions from another age. It is for me a prodigious stone that connects me to prayer and Buddhism. The Sanukite stone is a 13 million year old volcanic rock. It was used in the 4th century in China by Buddhist monks to announce the opening ceremonies. What I finally seek through music is the world of sacred silence. I would like to hear it through the sound of Sanukite. I think that's the basis, the principle of everything. And it is this original principle that triggers inspiration in me. What is necessary to create the sacred silence? A sacred place. The Nahato of Daitoku-ji is a space built specifically for sacred silence. The Daitoku-ji was built at the time on the hills surrounding Kyoto. Since then, sacred architecture has set up in the imperial city. Today, temples and sanctuaries blend with the contemporary landscape. 1200 years ago, Kyoto was founded under the name of Heian-kyo, the capital of peace. It's a city that was built around the ideas of peace, of security and of safety. It has no walls. The historic cities of the world are almost all surrounded by ramparts. 1200 years ago, it was built without thought being given to separating it from the outside, without protection from outside enemies. Although Kyoto is naturally protected by its hills, the entire Japanese archipelago, due to its geographical location, has long remained isolated from the Asian continent. It has thus been preserved from the great movements of civilization. When the first Buddhist missionaries arrived in the 6th century near Kyoto, they discovered islands where the cult of the spirits of nature was omnipresent. For here, men have always faced an all-powerful end. In Japanese beliefs, mountains, rivers and the sea are revered. We believe that mountains, grass and trees are alive. When we refer to myths, human beings, like nature, are born divinities. And that is why nature and human beings are considered brother and sister. The presence of these spirits of nature, the kami, is indicated by a torii, a massive wooden gate marking the border between the secular world and the sacred world. Scattered in nature, small ephemeral sanctuaries continue to shelter the kamis. Today, the Japanese still share their beliefs between Buddhism, which has become the state religion, and Shinto, the ancestral cult of spirits. Omiwa is one of the oldest and most important Shinto sanctuaries in Japan. It stands on the sacred mountain of the same name a few kilometers from Kyoto. For 15 years, Hiraoka Masahiko has been the officiating priest of this sanctuary. The sanctuary of Omiya, as it is located on one of the greatest mountains where the kamis live, has the architectural particularity of not having a main building as the central point of the sanctuary. Here there are only buildings for those who come to pray to the mountain. As in Daitoku-ji, Omiwa is composed of many temples scattered in nature. But here, there is neither master nor pupil. Spirits are everywhere, even in the material that makes up all of the structures. Here, there is no stone, there is no brick, there is only wood. So we build in wood, therefore on the scales of the tree. These thousands of pieces of wood are all assembled without nails, obviously. It is only pegging and insertion. The millinery art of Japanese carpenters allows very complex realizations, entirely interlocked, creating bridges between spaces. The wood is sacred here. It is a living material that is beautifully maintained. Everything must be new to welcome the kamis. The Shinto celebrates the greatest stages of Japanese life, and until today, most birth and wedding ceremonies are celebrated in sanctuaries. When they face nature, the Japanese see life unfold in all things. They have a very strong sense of the cycle of life, being born, aging and disappearing. This link with the cycles of nature is common to both religions, Shinto and Buddhism, thus cohabiting in harmony. If nature is at the heart of Shinto beliefs, it is omnipresent in the practices of Zen Buddhism, but in a sublimated form. It is how the Daito-guji keeps within its sight the most astonishing and the most beautiful Zen gardens of Japan. In Zen, we have a sort of sophistication of nature. We want to find nature, but the nature of men. The Zen garden presents life, from birth to death and reincarnation, as a journey of discovery. Thus, life is represented by raked gravel, a symbol of flowing water and eternity. The rocks are mountains, which alter the current. Of moss, stone or gravel, the garden magnifies the landscape of the temple. Its composition is a supreme art. Master Yamato, the superior monk, watches over the maintenance of these meticulous gardens. The building couldn't exist without the garden, any more than the garden alone could. Really, Hondo, this building and the garden only make one. They're necessary to each other, they just can't exist without each other. The garden is a fundamental element in the design of the Zen temple. An essential support to meditation, it must be constantly in view. The most important is to feel it. It's a dry garden, there's no water flowing through it and no waterfall gushing from it, but you should be able to hear the sound of water. The daily maintenance of gardens is part of the practice, in this constant search for perfection. These two mountains are called Kiyome no Morizuna. They are mounds of purifying sand. In Japan, a mound of salt is placed in front of the entrance of houses to purify it. It's the same here. In one of the most secret corners of the Daitoku-ji complex is a Shinju-an temple. Here were trained illustrious masters of Zen, who developed the art of tea and the archipelago. It's early afternoon. Master Yamada Sosho, superior monk of Shinju-an, welcomes the architect Mr. Nakamura, a specialist of tea houses. In Zen, we add Do, the way, to the word tea or other arts like Sado, the way of tea, Kendo, the way of the sword, Kodo, the way of incense, Kado, the way of flowers. This, though, is a way to reach something. And I think that thanks to this tool, the common denominator, which is Zen, becomes somehow easier to understand. The art of tea has been very influenced by Zen culture, and therefore tea and Buddhism are inseparable. And the tea house has played a very important role in its development. At the back of the garden, the Shinju-an tea pavilion is a quintessence of Zen architecture. Its small size makes it even more precious, because the humility of the place is a sign of accomplishment. Ideally, the pavilion should evoke the simplicity of a modest fisherman's hut. The smell of the tea is completely different. Master Udagawa has long been a disciple of Master Yamada. Now a recognized tea master, he invites his master and the architect to a tea ceremony in this place steeped in history. It's about inviting guests and serving them tea, and the Japanese have a great aesthetic sense. It's a process of moral and spiritual formation in which the personality of each person also comes into play. Master Udagawa indulges in this millennial art under the gaze of his teacher. This practice especially helps the control and perfection of the gestures. Purified water is poured three times into a container before being gently mixed with green tea. At Daitoku-ji, the day will soon end with an unusual concert initiated by Stomu Yamashita in the hatto. For the apprentice monks, this is a much-awaited moment, which is also part of their teaching. This building, the Hatto of Daitoku-ji, has many qualities. It is not only conducive to prayer, but it also completely awakens the five senses. It is a sacred building that has been nourished by the fervor of men's prayers. This performance, called the Onsen, brings together Zen monks and Shinto priests. It is a collective prayer for peace in the world. Thus, the monks, through their daily practice, keep alive these secret teachings that have passed through the centuries. The Daitoku-ji, the temple of Dragon Treasure Mountain, nestled for centuries on the hills of Kyoto, is still part of present time.