Word 075
Tōtō stands quietly in a residential corner of Takabatake, Nara — an unusual stepped stone mound built in the Nara period. Once a site of Buddhist practice that drew a steady stream of visitors, it now rests just off an ordinary side street, easy to walk past without a second glance.
Weathered stone Buddhas are carved here and there across its terraced surface. Without the small signboard nearby, a passerby might never guess this modest mound once held a place of pilgrimage.
On a summer afternoon, cicadas filled the air as I looked up at the worn steps. I have no way of knowing the crowds it once drew. But the stones are still here, quietly gathering time, one day after another.
You often hear people grumble around town, "That place isn't as fun as it used to be."
But comparing it to how good it once was only weighs down the heart.
This world unfolds exactly as it is meant to.
And even the same place is never eternal — it is always changing.
That is why each and every day is ichigo ichie — "one moment, one encounter."
Whether or not anyone remembers what it once was, this place is still, undeniably, here today. The stones seemed to say that was enough.