Washing Statue Wanderlust – Chapter 1

YUKI

“Why do we keep coming here? I must really love you to keep doing this over and over again.” Koharu sighs and checks her phone again, for the eleven-billionth time since we got in line for the shrine.

“You do love me, and that’s why we’re such good friends and roommates.” My stomach warbles, performing its little “I’m hungry, feed me now” dance that I can’t ignore. I rummage through my purse until I find one of my favorite low sugar fruit and nut bars to tide me over, once again grateful that I’m prepared for just about anything. An old woman in front of me turns around and her eyes narrow in on the food in my hand. It’s considered impolite to eat on the street or eat and walk at the same time unless you’re eating ice cream.

“I’m sorry. Excuse me,” I say, opening the bar and inching forward in line. “I’m a diabetic. I need to eat.” I bow to her but Koharu elbows me in the ribs.

“Mind your own business, old woman,” she hisses at the lady as my face pales.

“Koharu, stop. Why do you have to be so mean?”

The old woman and I bow to each other, and she turns around to face forward again while I take a bite of my nut bar.

“I hate that you always have to defend yourself for eating when you need to. It drives me crazy.” Koharu sighs and drops her phone into her bag, even though it dings with new notifications almost immediately. She looks down Jizo Dori, a shopping street affectionately called “Old Ladies’ Harajuku,” checking which shops are open. “Let’s go get rice cakes after we’re done at the shrine.”

“Good idea.”

I finish eating while the line shortens. This beautiful, sunny mid-summer morning, I have dragged my best friend to Sugamo’s Koganji temple once again so we can stand on line with tons of old men and women and wait our turn to wash the Arai Kannon Buddhist statue in the front courtyard of the shrine.

I’ve been coming to this shrine since I was a toddler, since I was diagnosed with diabetes. Thankfully, I was never a picky eater growing up, and, though I struggled with the daily insulin shots and constant finger pricking, I was good about my diet. I’ve kept things under control, but only out of sheer terror I’ll get something wrong. The terror has kept me in one place, though. Tokyo is all I’ve ever known. I haven’t gone anywhere or done anything for fear the adventure will kill me.

My parents dragged me here every weekend until I was old enough to make the trip on my own, and I keep coming despite my own reservations about how silly the whole ritual is. Some habits are hard to break, and what if I suddenly become sick because I haven’t been visiting? I’m too afraid to find out.

Finally we’re within a few people of the statue, and I smile at it as I toss a coin in the offering box.

“Hello, darling,” it says, bright and cheery despite the water being dumped on its head. “It’s good to see you back here. How are you feeling?”

The statue and I have been good friends for quite some time, and it always asks after my well-being while I’m here.

“I’m doing well. Been feeling okay. A little listless, but fine.”

Koharu rolls her eyes at me. “Why must you insist on speaking to the statue every time we come?”

“Because it would be rude to ignore it. I don’t ignore you when you talk to me.” I draw my hands into prayer position in front of my lips. “Thank you, gods, for giving me the strength to continue through every day,” I say in my head. This is what I always pray when I come.

The elderly around us barely take notice. Half the old people have hearing aids but can’t hear anything anyway so I never worry about how I’m perceived for speaking with the statue.

“Why are you here washing today, Yuki?” the statue asks me. It waits while the people in front of us pour water from the cistern on rags. Each wipes down the statue before praying, taking care to rub the parts of the statue that correspond to their own aches and pains. This ritual is supposed to bring good health to the individual, and this washing statue is the reason people come here.

I often think of this ritual and why I do the things I do. So much of my life is superstition combined with a daily routine.

I step up to take my place at the statue with Koharu at my side. She always washes the statue too, since this is something we’ve done for years together.

“I’ve been feeling lost lately, like I don’t know what to do with myself.” I lift the water-heavy ladle up and pour its contents onto a rag. “All of my friends are off for the summer holiday break and many are traveling overseas. Koharu is going to Kyoto, and I want to go…”

“But?”

I pause with the rag over its head.

“But I worry about being far from home and something happening to me. What if I lose my insulin? What if I forget to take it?”

“You’re being crazy, Yuki,” Koharu says, picking up her white cloth and rubbing the statue’s head.

“I agree with your friend. Although I would use the term ‘overcautious’ instead. No need to throw around the word ‘crazy.’”

I sigh. “It agrees with you, of course,” I tell Koharu and she nods in response.

“Why can I never hear her?” Koharu pouts as she places the cloth back on the cistern’s edge.

I shrug my shoulders. “Maybe you need more faith or to listen harder? I’m not sure.”

“You should see the world, Yuki. That is what the gods have always wanted for you, to be free, to be happy.”

“I know, I know.” I squat down next to the statue, looking it in the eyes. These are eyes I’ve known for over a decade, and though I hear its voice and its wisdom, I can’t follow its advice. I remind myself this is just a statue that many people can’t hear, and then I hate myself. It’s an amazing thing I can hear this statue. Why do I dismiss this miracle so easily?

I reach up and wipe its head, down along the back, then clean off the raised hand and robes it’s wearing. The statue is short, only coming up to my shoulders when I’m standing, and made from black stone. Will it someday be worn away by all the washing?

“You should go and take me with you. I’d love to see the world.”

“But you’re a statue in a temple. I can’t take you with me!”

“I’m sure a smart girl like you could figure it out.”

I slide my eyes to the statue. “Flattery will get you nowhere, and it’s not like I’m going anywhere anyway.”

“If I could go with you, I would. Trust me.”

“Would you really? Sounds like you need as much courage as I do.” I set down my white cloth and lift my face to the sun for a moment before praying again with my hands in front of my face. Please, gods, bring me and this statue the fortitude we need to succeed in life. I clap my hands once and bow.

“Come back soon, Yuki. It’s always good to see you.”

“I will.”

I link arms with Koharu, and we walk away.

“Happy?” Koharu asks.

I shrug my shoulders. “Am I ever really?”

She laughs, her head thrown back. “No. You’ve been depressed your entire life. Sweet and kind but never truly happy.”

I glance over my shoulder at the statue being washed by an old obā-chan now. I come here once a month and sometimes it doesn’t feel like enough.

I always need more strength, more courage, and better health. I need guidance. I need a break from myself.

Perhaps the statue could use a break too.