Slow Times in Japan: Strolling Through Shrines

Passing through a torii, I found myself standing in front of yet another shrine, Yushima Tenji Jingja, my rustling steps slowing down.

Just a few blocks apart, neon lights would shine brighter than the quiet blue hour here, salarymen bustling, fun seekers dancing.

But the air here was so peaceful, I could hear my heart slow down, to the rhythm of a lullaby, right in the heart of Tokyo.

The heart of Tokyo, a mosaic of neon lights and tranquil temples, one that can beat both fast and slow, depending on where you stand.

--Ode to the shrines in Japan, by Leo

Peaceful moments in shrines & temples

As you might have seen in clips of anime or Japanese shows, shrines sit quietly and solemnly inside cities, on mountain waists, and even by the sea. The vermilion pillars framing the stone staircases, the beam shaped like birdwings as if to soar, and the halls hosting myriads of deities from Japanese religion of Gods, Shinto -- shrines are portals to the past full of stories, as well as to the future full of your wishes.

Don't we pray the most when we are the most empty-handed?

Behind the curtain of colourful anime characters and neon light cityliners, Japan has been a country of scars, marked by the earthquakes, landslides and volcanic eruptions. The taunt of nature deprived them of hand-plowed food, and so their hands learnt to pray, in the forms of shrines, where they bow and clap their hands to the Gods, for a blessing in good seasons, safe travels, loveful relationships, and even for passing exams and being promoted.

And that's merely the past, millions of sunsets before me.

I did not come to Japan for pilgrimage; I first came for the well-seasoned ramen and 7-Eleven, for reminiscence of my childhood days of anime and songs. I first came because in spring, the breezes might bring sakura to my feet, and clouds might stop masquerading Fuji. Yet whenever I strolled past by a shrine, or temple - they are different because temples are constructed for Buddhism, not Shinto - I found my paces slowed down, and I was allowed to feel the flow of the air and the daylight cast on through cracks of leaves, allowed to hear the quiet of nature or the silent prayers - instead of the imploring voice in my head, telling me "you're late; hurry up".

What's so late when you're in front of a holy place that stood for hundreds of years, anchored in time and culture?

Intended to relive this new-found peace, I started to look for quiet corners of shrines. Fushimi Inari, in Kyoto, is famous for its hundred torii gates and its climb to mountain top, yet it's filled with tourists during the day, and your pace is forced to slow by people, not by time; but I found a quiet way down to Tokufu temple, where torii stand alongside tall trees. Sensoji, in Tokyo, sits in a vibrant neighbourhood full of markets of souvenirs and food by day, yet at night, it shows another magnificent side, its vermilion walls inked tangerine by lights, mooring me to peace, perfect for a relaxing night walk.

I did not come to Japan for pilgrimage, but I left as a self taught to believe again, not in Japanese Gods, but in life itself. I was taught to believe in something bigger than me and than us, and only by slowing down your pace chasing it, will you truly reach it. This philosophy is not only shown through their buildings for deity, but also reflected in their mundane life.