Hindu cosmology: The mountain as axis mundi

The arrival of Buddhism in Japan led to the adoption of a particularly potent archetypal image from the cos mology of a foreign culture: the image of Mount Meru (Shumi-sen in Japanese), the cosmic mountain at the centre of the universe. Representations of this moun tain can be found in many Japanese gardens. The earli est written Buddhist sources, themselves based on even older concepts of Hindu cosmology, see the universe as "a single, circular world system surrounded by a mountain range of iron, cakravala, from which its name is derived"

Buddhist cakravala cosmology exists in a number of forms, varying according to tradition. All, however, ap pear to share the same central concept of the universe as a circular disk with Mount Meru at its centre. Lying in concentric circles around this axis mundi are seven golden mountain ranges and an eighth and last moun tain range of iron, the cakravala. There are oceans be tween the mountains; only in the ocean between the seventh mountain range and the cakravala are there four islands inhabited by man. A further eight unin habited islands float in the other oceans. The disk rests on a foundation of golden earth, which in turn floats on water.

It is important to remember that this image portrays the universe as a whole, and not just our own earth. Mount Meru is the axis of that universe; the golden mountain ranges which encircle it denote the various realms of meditation and heavenly spheres.⁵This origi nally Indian cosmography was taken up by the Japa nese garden. Mount Meru can thus often be found as a single, towering rock, sometimes surrounded by sub sidiary stones, prominently located within an individual garden. In other cases, the representation of all nine mountains and eight oceans underlies the design of an entire garden. One of the most beautiful examples here is the garden in front of the Golden Pavilion in Kyoto, where the various islands and rocks in Mirror Lake can be seen as an illustration of an originally Hindu concept of the universe.

Touching the soul of the Japanese islanders even more profoundly than the details of Buddhist-Hinduist cosmology was, however, the powerful image of the mountain at the centre of the universe and of the wafers of both life and death. Mountain and water converge in the image of the island, which appears in Japanese cosmology - as indeed elsewhere - as the first manifestation of land, indeed of form as such.

The recurrent appearance of the cosmic mountain throughout the history of the Japanese garden points to the resonance which the simplicity, power and beauty of this pre-scientific model of the universe finds in the collective Japanese subconscious. What I have here termed an "archetypal image", Mircea Eliade calls a "symbol". A true "symbol", says Eliade, "speaks to the whole human being and not only to the intelli gence". The concept of the island in the ocean is pre cisely such a symbol.

Just as the ancient civilizations of East Asia built stupas, temples, even entire cities in the shape of the mandala, symbol of the structural principles of the cos mos as a whole, so it comes as no surprise to find this same mandala, with the axis mundi at its centre, inspir ing the design of many a Japanese garden.

Sakutei-ki: "The Classic of Garden-Making"

The Sakutei-ki, the classic manual of garden architec ture, provides another inexhaustible fund of informa tion regarding Heian attitudes towards nature and gar den design. Japanese scholars consider it probable that the treatise was written in the latter half of the elev enth century by Tachibana no Toshitsuna, a son of Fujiwara no Yonmichi. the builder of Byodo-m temple This attribution would make the author not a profes sional gardener but a member of the Heian nobility, and probably one who avidly followed - and perhaps actively oversaw - the creation of many a palace gar den. The Sakutei-h appears to be simply a compilation of the contemporary rules of garden-making Whether these rules were already common knowledge and found in other books now lost to us. whether they were passed from teacher to pupil as part of an oral tradition, or whether they were stnctly secret, remains a matter of speculation. Nevertheless, the book by Tachibana originally consisted of two scrolls and bore the more appropriate title of Senzai hisho. "Secret Dis courses on Gardens".

The colophon of the scroll, a tailpiece which tradi tionally identifies the writer and place of composition, reads: "A foolish old man. This is a very precious treas ure; it should be kept stnctly secret'." There is reason
to believe, however, that this colophon was only added much later, when the knowledge contained in the scroll had acquired commercial value for a Japanese nobility which had lost most of its power to the samu rai warrior class.

At one point in the Sa'kutei-ki the author himself ad mits: "I have recorded here, without attempting to judge what is good or bad, what I have heard over the years concerning the erecting of rocks The priest En no Enjan acquired the secrets of rock-setting by mutual transmission. I am in possession of his scriptures Even though I have studied and understood its mam princi ples, its aesthetic meaning is so inexhaustible that I frequently fail to grasp it Nor is anyone still alive to day who knows all there is to know about the subject By taking natural scenery of mountains and water, but forgetting the rules and taboos of garden architecture, I fear we will end up with gardens upon which we have forcibly imposed our own forms "
In Heian times, "mutual transmission", like "secret transmission", probably meant simply the passing of knowledge between members of the nobility and Bud dhist priests, the two classes of Heian society actively involved in the study and practice of the arts, and par ticularly garden design Furthermore, "secret" in a Buddhist context did not mean that a text was physically hidden away, but rather that a "key" was necessary to its understanding This "key" would be transmitted orally from master to disciple only when the latter was deemed worthy to receive it

The Sakutei-ki discusses garden art and architectural details within the context of the Shinden-style palace. Sadly it contains no illustrations. The book opens with an introduction to the general principles of garden de sign, and then proceeds to describe the five types of garden which may be laid out along the banks of ponds and streams. It distinguishes between eight types of island and offers some practical advice on ac tual construction. The author further identifies nine ba sic types of waterfall, discusses the various possibilities of garden streams, the different forms of rock settings, and concludes with a jumbled assortment of orally-transmitted dos and don'ts.

Heian attitudes towards nature and garden design

Neither the few surviving remains of gardens of the Heian period nor the hypothetical reconstructions of those lost to us provide sufficient bases upon which to judge contemporary Heian attitudes towards nature and garden architecture. We are thus obliged to rely on historical records of the day, of which two literary sources of particular relevance shall be discussed here The first illustrates the social function of palace gar dens, while the second paints a useful picture of gar den design and construction.

Japan has four distinct seasons, and their transition

Japan has four distinct seasons, and their transition

can be predicted to within one or two days The subtle transformations taking place during these periods of natural change are the central themes of Japanese poetry and painting and the Japanese festival calendar Thus the patterns of kimonos, the flower arrangements in the decorative alcoves of traditional houses, even the type and timing of food served in tradition-conscious Japanese restaurants all reflect the time of year. It is rare even today to receive a letter which does not open with a reference to a seasonal flower or the currently-prevailing humidity or cold

Although the Japanese garden has. over the course of the centuries, evolved through a remarkable variety of sizes and styles, it nevertheless displays a design logic which rs intimately bound up with the genius too of the Japanese landscape - in other words, with the essence of the country as it appears to the human imagination.

Buddhist faith:The paradise of Amida Buddha

Meditation and magic were not the only paths traced in the architecture of Japanese gardens. A third path, that of devotion, inspired a vision of paradise which found concrete correlation in the pond islands within 8uddhist temple precincts

Mahayana Buddhism speculates that space is divided into ten realms which contain countless numbers of world systems Some of these systems lie under the influence of specific Buddhas One such system is Sukhavaii. or Jodo in Japanese, a "Pure Land" under the influence of Amida (Amitabha). a transhistoncal Buddha of infinite light and eternal life. It is located, according to this cosmology, at the "provisional limit of the worlds to the West" in an otherwise "unlimited universe".

To be reborn m Amida's Pure Land after ones death m this world was considered a significant step towards Buddhahood. Belief in Amida and his paradise can be traced back to three Indian sutras, which arose be tween the second and fifth centuries AD, m which Shakyamunt tells of Amida's vow to save anyone who faithfully devotes their life to him. Shakyamum then proceeds to give a vivid description of Amida's para dise, where magnificent palaces are set m beautiful gardens of shady terraces and lotus ponds

The Mahayana Buddhism from which this idea stems is often called the "Great Vehicle" of Buddhism. In place of the arduous meditalional practices of other Buddhist seas, it employs "easier" methods such as chant, prayer and the contemplation of images Per haps this explains why Pure Land Buddhism has at tracted the largest following of all the Buddhist sects m China and Japan It is only natural, therefore, that it should also have the largest number of temples in Ja pan. When looked at more closely, however, the mod els underlying human representations of Amida's para dise reveal themselves to be worldly rather than heav enly in origin The visions of Amida's Pure Land both as painted on mandalas and recreated in garden architec ture bear close resemblance to the royal pleasure gar dens of the ancient Middle East. It is probable, there fore, that Ihe mythological Pure Land of the original Indian sutras was based on descriptions of Middle-Eastern palaces; this would in turn explain why the legendary country lies in the West, and not in the East. The fear of death, as we have already said, runs deeper than all other fears, and goes beyond the bounds of mere history. And thus these last three archetypes of Japanese garden architecture, based respectively on Hindu cosmology, Chinese myth and Buddhist faith, all have one thing in common: they are expressions of man's desire to outwit the laws of nature to which he is subject and to escape death. Paradoxically, man seeks to transcend Nature by means of man-made nature.

The rock archetype: iwakura and iwasaka

The Japanese fascination, indeed obsession with binding, manipulating and even crippling plants for gardens or miniature landscapes thus has its roots in a cultural phenomenon dating back literally thousands of years.

The appreciation of the beauty of natural rock has been one of the most pronounced characteristics of the Japanese garden throughout its history. Rocks are employed in garden composition for their sensory, scenic and symbolic effects, a distinction David Slawson introduced. Many Japanese and Western academics trace this love of pure, unadulterated stone to the worship - possibly dating from neolithic times - of huge boulders and rocky outcrops such as those found in ancient Shinto shrines. These rocks were often bound with the shime-nawa ropes mentioned above to indicate their sacred character, as is the case in the Omiwa shrine near Nara. Rocks thus identified are accepted as go-shintai, the abode of a deity, leading many to conclude that prehistoric Shintoism must have undergone an animistic phase. It is my opinion, however, that the appreciation of the beauty of rocks, and the worship of a divine presence concealed behind them, is a relatively late phenomenon in the history of Shintoism. Such rocks were originally called iwakura and iwasaka, literally meaning "rock seat" and "rock boundary", suggesting that they were placed in preanimistic times as markers, denoting occupation of land or property. At some stage their original meaning and function were forgotten, and they acquired religious as well as territorial significance. Later still even similar naturally occurring (not man-made) rock-formations came to be seen as abodes of deities.

Mirei Shigemori, on the other hand, argues that certain unique natural stone and rock formations were considered sacred from the very beginning. To these were added, over the course of time, other rocks, thereby creating a sacred precinct which was at least in part man-made. In the final phase, a particular sanctuary might have all its rocks imported. This marked the beginning of Japanese garden architecture proper.

However different these standpoints, both underline the special status afforded the natural rock in Japan. Castle walls aside, natural stone has never played a mapr role as a building material in traditional Japanese architecture. On the contrary, stone is finely appreciated for the subtle distinctions of its form, colour and texture, and an individual rock may even be assigned the human characteristics of head and feet, front and back. Rock has thereby acquired archetypal status, and a Japanese garden without an unusual rock or rock group, natural or carved, is quite inconceivable.

Gardens within temples of Pure Land Buddhism

The urban temple complexes of the Asuka and Nara eras were built around large, open inner courtyards, which functioned as a setting for religious ceremonies and thus paralleled those in the imperial palace used for state ceremonials. Indeed, in the highly formal and symmetrical alignment of its lecture halls, pagodas and corridors, the sacred architecture of these early Bud dhist temples largely followed the secular model of imperial Chinese palaces.
The inner courtyards of these early temples were largely devoid of gardens, a situation which began to change as from the middle of the eleventh century, when the Fujiwara princes started funding the building of Pure Land temples inside and outside Heian-kyo. These new temples all included ornamental pond-and-island gardens of the first Japanese prototype category, and sought to emulate the Shinden-style palace archi tecture of the early Heian period.

In order to understand the temple architecture of the Heian and Fujiwara eras, it is important to consider the underlying mood of the times. There reigned, at least amongst the privileged classes, the feeling of mujokan, a sense of the impermanence of the world and of the dreamlike quality of one's own existence. Japanologist Ivan Morris cites a number of images from the litera ture of the Heian period which reflect such preoccupa tions. In a poem by lady-in-waiting Akashi addressed to Prince Genji, life is described as akenu yo no yume,
a "night of endless dreams"; in another example, the last volume of Murasaki's famous "Tale of Genji" is entitled Yume no ukehashi, "the floating bridge of dreams" over which man passes from one life to the next.

This sense of impermanence was largely inspired by the widespread belief that the world had entered the last phase of its history. According to Pure Land Bud dhist thinking, humankind had passed through shobo, the period of true law covering the first 500 years after Buddha's death, and zobo, the period of false law which had lasted the 500 years after that, to reach mappo, the period of ending law. It was believed that salvation could only be attained in this final stage through contemplation of the Buddha or by simply uttering the name of Amida Buddha.

This sense of fin-de-siecle gloom, of the futility of all human endeavour, was the inevitable fate of a wealthy society seeking to cure the problem of endless free time with cultural pursuits such as poetry competitions, calligraphy, banquets, semi-religious rituals and state ceremonies, as well as the more physical sports of horse racing, cockfighting and archery. Mujokan, the sense of impermanence, and eiga, the sense of worldly pomp, are simply two sides of the same coin. But true religion, the understanding of the self, is the greatest luxury of all. Only when man's material and aesthetic needs are met does he become aware of his spiritual deficiences.

Rather than leading to hopeless immobility, however, the worldy boredom and religious despair of the Heian period resulted, paradoxically, in a blossoming of the arts. It produced some of the finest poetry and novels m Japanese literary history, and some of the most beautiful sculpture and gardens.

The temple gardens of the Fujiwara era were seen as representations of that Pure Land believed to be located somewhere in the West. Just as two-dimen sional, painted mandalas of Amida's paradise had ear lier taken imperial Chinese architecture as their inspira tion, so the architects of the later Heian period similarly looked back to concrete models when composing their three-dimensional mandalas of buildings and gardens. But these models were now the Shinden-style palace complexes of the early Heian period, with their rectan gular "armchair" design and pond gardens enclosed within a south garden. Thus the Buddhist temple com plex may be seen as a logical continuation of that first Japanese garden prototype. But whereas it was for merly a mere backdrop for courtly entertainments, it now assumed a new, religious significance.

Nothing survives of the early temples of Pure Land Buddhism in present-day Kyoto. A hypothetical recon struction of Hojo-ji temple suggests that Buddhist com plexes shared the same north-south orientation and symmetrical ground plan as the palaces of the aristoc racy. Hojo-ji was begun in 1019 by Fujiwara no Michi-naga, who is also said to have died within its walls reciting Amida's name. The large temple covered an area of nearly 300 square yards. New to Buddhist tem ple architecture was the size and position of its Amida Hall, west of the mam court, with its eleven bays and
nine Amida statues each some fifteen feet tall. New, too, was its pond garden with a central island, housing a stage for religious ceremonies and concerts.

The splendour of the Heian vision of paradise on earth can still be glimpsed outside the former capital in Byodo-in, the "Temple of Equality and Impartiality" built in 1052 by Fujiwara no Yorimichi on the banks of the Uji river. This temple centred entirely around the Hoo-do, the famous Phoenix Hall. Inside the Phoenix Hall was a large statue of Buddha; since cosmological considerations required it to face east, the entire com plex was in turn oriented east-west. We know from historical sources that the Buddha statue was wor shipped from a platform in the pond, the worshipper thereby facing due west, the direction in which the Pure Land of Amida was believed to lie. Musicians would play from decorated barges floating on the wa ters. The pond itself has changed shape a number of times in its history, but continues to fulfil its original function: to mirror in its waters the elegant symmetry of the temple architecture.

Towards the end of the eleventh century, a northern branch of the Fujiwara clan built a dazzling succession of temples and Pure-Land paradise gardens. The major ity lay in Hiraizumi in northern Honshu; all employed the familiar armchair ground plan, in which a garden is cradled by surrounding buildings, and were thus illus trations of the first Japanese garden prototype. Little has survived of these gardens, however. Only Motsu-ji Temple, built by Prince Fujiwara Motohira (died 1157), still preserves something of the original shape of its pond and islands. The bold rock settings on its shores are amongst those best preserved from Heian times

Garden and temple were treated as an integral unit throughout the entire era of Fujiwara temple-building. Over time, however, certain changes nevertheless took place Whereas the gardens of Hojo-ji temple, which marked the beginning of the great phase of Fujrwara building, are entirely subordinate to the right angle of the temple architecture, the architecture of Motsu-ji Temple, which closed this magnificent era. is entirely subordinate to the design of the garden. The nght an gle has abandoned its framing function to the garden's powerful embrace.