Chion-in, Kyoto. 2003

I try to make at least one visit to Chion-in when in Japan: most days there seems to be a service at 11:00, discreetly captured here. People come and go, small children play on the tatami, old and young offer incense, as I did, while the chanting and sound of the gongs, some deep, some metallic, goes on regardless, as it has done for hundreds of years. Outside, the occasional murmur of voices and the cawing of the crows in the mid-summer heat.
The entrance is the massive San-mon, said to be the largest gate is Japan, and proportionate to the temple itself. A step over a large sill marks your entry into sacred space, emphasised by the very steep flight of stone steps ahead. The construction and steepness is such that you cannot see anything at the top other than the sky - not accidental I think. The steps and the occasional cawing crow emphasise the silence and the heat. Then the cleansing water ladled over the hands, and the sound of a gong from within the great hall. Shoes off, neatly to one side, the soft tatami underfoot, and the cool dark interior picking out the greenish-gold and mirror dark lacquered floor. I sit quietly at the back and go with the moment. Time stops.