Thoughts on "Hojoki"

Today I read excerpts from Hojoki, or "An Account of My Hut", by Medieval Japanese author Kamo no Chomei (1153-1216). It was in an anthology of Japanese literature, and I figured that I would read all the excerpts in one go (it wasn't very long).

I found it interesting. It begins with a rumination on the temporary, ephemeral nature of man's existence:

"The flow of the river is ceaseless and its water is never the same. The bubbles that float in the pools, now vanishing, now forming, are not of long duration: so in the world are man and his dwellings."

That first sentence brought to my mind the famous proverb of Heraclitus, "Everything flows," and the second sentence is so characteristically Buddhist in its metaphor and meaning. These two sentences encapsulate perfectly what Kamo no Chomei sets out to discuss: the impermanence of man's life, his world, and his accomplishments; and how they all can be swept away as though they were a speck of dust in a whirlwind.

Speaking of whirlwinds, the work goes on to give an account of the natural disasters and famines that swept through Japan in the late Heian era.

Chomei describes a great fire that burnt down a third of the capital city, Heian-kyo in Kyoto, in the year 1177. Many, many houses were lost to the blaze (including sixteen noble mansions), and several thousand people died in the fire. "Of all the follies of the human endeavor, none is more pointless than expending treasures and spirit to build houses in so dangerous a place as the capital." 

Chomei describes a great whirlwind which came about in 1180, and which destroyed house after house as it moved. "Even so must be the blasts of Hell, I thought." 

Chomei mentions the moving of the capital from Kyoto to Fukuhara-kyo, also in 1180, where it remained so for six months. It had been several centuries since the capital had been fixed at Kyoto, so this move caused a disturbance among the imperial court. The city itself was cramped, the environment inhospitable, and the nobles who should have worn elegant robes and held cultivated airs and manners now went about in simpler attire and with manners "like those of rustic soldiers."

Chomei then describes the great famine which swept across the land starting in 1181. It lasted two years, and people in the city became desperate for food and resources when the countryside on which they relied failed to produce sufficient food. More and more people began to beg on the side of the road and died of starvation. Some people began stealing from temples and shrines to provide for themselves. "It was because I was born into a world of foulness and evil that I was forced to witness such heartbreaking sights."

Chomei describes an earthquake of exceptional severity that took place in 1185 which utterly demolished temples, houses, shrines. Every structure that could be broken was torn asunder. "Of the four great elements, water, fire, and wind are continually causing disasters, but the earth does not normally afflict man."

After all these tragedies, and after considering the hardships of life in this world, Chomei makes up his mind to renounce the world, in true Buddhist fashion. He becomes a Pure Land priest and resolves to live out the remainder of his life in solitude. "For over thirty years I had tormented myself by putting up with all the things of this unhappy world." He had no family ties or stipend at the imperial court--what had he to lose?

He built a hut "ten feet square" and essentially lived a simple lifestyle. He enjoyed the simple pleasures of music, poetry, and admiring the natural beauty which the seasons brought to him in time, all the while meditating on the suffering of the material world. "Only in a hut built for the moment can one live without fears...The hermit crab chooses to live in little shells because it well knows the size of its body...Knowing myself and the world, I have no ambitions and do not mix in the world. I seek only tranquility; I rejoice in the absence of grief."

Yet, despite his affection for his hut, he is reminded of the Buddhist teachings of impermanence and non-attachment: "The essence of the Buddha's teaching to man is that we must not have attachment for any object. It is a sin for me now to love my little hut, and my attachment to its solitude may also be a hindrance to salvation...I told myself that I had fled the world to live in a mountain forest in order to discipline my mind and practice the Way. 'And yet, in spite of your monk's appearance, your heart is stained with impurity. If your low estate is a retribution for the sins of a previous existence, is it right that you afflict yourself over it? Or should you permit delusion to come and disturb you?' To these questions my mind could offer no reply."

These writings posed an interesting query to me. Do I think about impermanence enough? There are so many ways in which my life could come crashing down; indeed, it has come undone in a few ways in the course of my years. What can I do to prevent my life from crashing down, or can I even do anything? My house, my family, my education, my hobbies--is that all just foam on a river that is formed in the morning and gone by the evening?