Word 117
Deep in the mountains of Uda, at the end of a gorge known as Fukatani, Ryuchin Shrine stands in quiet stillness. Crossing the small stream in front of the sanctuary, a waterfall of about four meters comes into view beside the hall of worship. Depending on the weather and the angle of the light, the water in the pool below is said to shift between emerald green and cobalt blue.
In the early Edo period, those who served at nearby Kai Shrine are said to have searched the mountains and fields for a sacred place fit to enshrine Takaokami-no-kami, the dragon deity who governs rain. Believing that such a place surely existed somewhere, though yet unseen, they kept walking — and it was this gorge they finally reached.
When drought continued, people would wait for the sun to set, then climb this mountain path carrying torches. Even before a single drop of rain had fallen, they offered their prayers without doubt, trusting that the blessing of rain would surely come.
Goals and dreams will not come true unless you pursue them.
Yet it is a strange nature of this world that pursuing them too hard doesn't work out either.
Only by releasing attachment and pursuing them along a sound, steady path do goals and dreams truly come true.
The trick is this: live each day as if that goal or dream has already come true, and enjoy it — and the realization of that goal or dream draws nearer.
Even now, the Ryuchin Falls hold their clear water, whether or not anyone comes to visit, quietly reflecting their color as they always have. Just as those who once carried torches prayed with certainty for rain not yet fallen, picturing an unseen future as something already present may, too, be a form of prayer.