From our house, the first thing we see in the morning when we open the curtains, and the last ting we see at night while the sun is setting behind the big pine trees growing on a hill next to our house, is Imayama. Imayama, 今山 is a small small mountain close to the sea with a little shrine on its top. 今 means now and 山 mountain, and for us it really is the Now Mountain since we see it every time we look out. My wife grew up often running all the steps top the top of the mountain for exercise.
Since there is a shinto shrine on the top, there are torii gates, archways, on the way up the mountain, marking the entrance to a sacred place. The kanji for torii is 鳥居, where 鳥 means bird and 居 means to be or exist. It is fun and interesting to think of these gates to the shrine as places where birds sit. My wife and her classmates used to throw up little rock’s in the air while running, hoping they would land and stay on top of the torii. When she was lucky to see the stone stay and not fall down again she happily exclaimed luck luck luck.
Since those school years my wife has not climbed the mountain. Until yesterday that is. Our son got a child carrier backpack from his Swedish grandparents and the maiden voyage took us up the Now Mountain. It was a warm sunny summer’s day with a nice breeze and not many people. Our son liked his new chair on my back and happily explained everything he saw to us as we climbed the stairs to the top. He was especially excited about the canopy of leaves high above, with the sun shining through. And of course the liondogs, aun, protecting the shrine, representing the beginning and the end.
For me, coming to a place like this, it is easy to emotionally understand why people long ago felt the urge to build a place of worship on top of the mountain. Being in nature, feeling the connection, the affinity to what is surrounding us, is one of the most precious and beautiful elements of life I feel. A day like this, when sharing the beauty of life with our wonderful little family, it is impossible not to be happy, not to feel joy, to feel grateful for being able to experience life on top of a mountain, eating onigiri and drinking ice coffee, enjoying the view of the sea outside Fukuoka City. And as joyful as our son was, on our way down he fell asleep on my back. I believe he was thanking his grandma and grandpa for the very comfortable chair – just the perfect way to enjoy the wonders of the world for a baby.
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