Anxiety Is Born of Not Knowing
In the south of Nara Prefecture, in Kitozumi in Tenkawa Village, Yoshino District, lies Mitarai Gorge. It opens along the lower reaches of the Sanjo River, a tributary of the Tenno River in the Shingu River system, near the point where the Kose River joins it. Boulders large and small lie piled upon one another, and the water drops between them in many separate threads. Beyond the rocks are deep pools, glowing emerald green and yet clear enough to show the stones on the bottom.
A walking path has been laid along the river. You climb wooden steps, round the shoulder of a boulder, and follow a narrow track through the trees. Standing on a suspension bridge, you find a waterfall beneath your feet. There are not many places where a waterfall can be seen from above. One of them is called the Waterfall of Light. The path runs along the gorge from the Dorogawa side out to Route 309, and at an unhurried pace it takes about two and a half hours.
Mitarai is written with characters that mean a place of purification. One account of the name holds that a prince of the Southern Court performed his ablutions here. The gorge changes with the seasons. In spring the new leaves are almost too bright to look at; in summer, azaleas stand out along the water. Its autumn colors are said to be among the finest in the Kansai region, at their best from early to mid November. For now, the green of the trees is still deep.
In life, there are times when a vague anxiety takes hold of us.
At such times, however much we turn it over in our heads, far from subsiding, the anxiety only swells, larger and larger.
What is the cause of that anxiety? Once we have a rough idea of it, let us move to actual action.
If, as a result of acting, we can track down the cause of that anxiety and take measures against it, that is, if we can come to 'know it with our own body', the anxiety will have disappeared before we notice it.
Anxiety is born of not knowing. Know with your own body, and it goes.
On the way back, you return along the path you came by. Going up, you watched only your feet and a little way ahead, the next step, the next rock. But once you turn around and begin to descend, the same path shows you different things. The shape of the branches that had been arching overhead, and a thin thread of water running behind a boulder you had already passed, come into view for the first time. The water keeps falling in the same way, whether anyone is walking there or not. In November, they say, this gorge fills with autumn color and the path grows crowded. Until then, the stones at the bottom of the pools go on shining beneath the same green water.