Word 091
Within Todai-ji's Hokke-do Hall, known as Sangatsu-do, statues have stood since the Tempyo era. Deep within the altar, quietly enshrined behind closed doors, stands the statue of Shukongojin — rarely shown to visitors.
Its gaze is stern, yet it speaks no words. It simply stands, watching over the footsteps of each person who passes through. It offers no hand, and points to no path.
Visitors walk through the hall, each carrying their own wish, each moving at their own pace. The statue hurries no one's steps and judges no one's hesitation. It simply remains.
"If only they would do it this way..."
It's a thought I have about others more often than I'd like to admit.
But that very thought is proof that I haven't yet let go of my own "ego."
No matter how good the advice, it means nothing until a person experiences it for themselves.
And so, to watch over someone gently is nothing other than to respect them.
To say nothing, and only remain — perhaps that, too, is a kind of tenderness.