I visited the Hase-Dera temple in Japan, which is dedicated to
Kannon (Kwan-Yin) and Jizo, the bodhisattva of children and
travellers. The temple is covered with tiny statues of Jizo
lovingly wrapped in red clothes: vests, hats, scarves. Each statue
represents a child stillborn, miscarried, aborted, or dead before
the age of two. There are thousands.
I hiked up to the main temple on a hot summer day, the sea
sparkling below. It's a long walk through bushes and gnarled trees.
I finally entered, grimy, sweaty, short of breath. The room was
silent and dark, lit by a few candles. A massive golden statue of
Kannon greeted me, 11 feet tall, camphor wood covered in gold leaf.
And in that moment, I felt the a grace within me as I had never
felt any religious thing, and started crying at the feet of that
shadowy, golden statue.
My husband rolled his eyes and said: "What's wrong with you?"
"Nothing," I said, and wiped my eyes.
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