A Walk Around the Kyoto Garden in Holland Park

This is probably going to be like “putting legs on a snake” as the Buddhist’s saying goes – i.e. something completely unnecessary to your enjoyment of the garden.

However, I do hope that my interpretation lifts a corner of the quilt of Western ignorance with which we collectively cover this garden and that you leave here with a slightly better understanding of some of the stitches employed in the tapestry.

I am not a professional lecturer, a Buddhist nor an academic. I am a gardener trained in the English garden tradition so bear with me if my knowledge is at times not as sharp as one might wish.

Granite entrances:

Our walk starts at either gate with us walking on granite. Kyoto is surrounded by granite and therefore it is of no surprise that the principle rock used by them is their native igneous rock. Some of the granite (particularly the dressed stone) is actually from Kyoto but most is from Scotland. We will talk much more of rocks and stones on this walk.

This isn’t a temple so the normal etiquette required in Japan is not followed. However, if you do want to take your shoes off – please feel free to do so. You’ll learn more through the soles of your feet than perhaps listening to me! Either way please be mindful of where you place your feet.

The steps were originally going to be faced with wood but that was not followed through.

We enter the garden by following movement along the diagonal. This is a Buddhist tradition that will be explained later. It doesn’t matter which gate you enter by – the direction that you are naturally encouraged to follow is on the diagonal and in a clockwise direction and I will talk more of both points shortly.

To the left is a bronze plaque that records the many very generous people who contributed to the building of the garden in 1991. Designed by SHOJI NAKAHARA, it was opened by HRH the Prince of Wales and HIH the then Crown Prince (and now Emperor) of Japan in September of that year.

The Kyoto Chamber of Commerce have looked after the garden ever since by sending over small teams of gardeners from the Kyoto Gardens Association every three or four years. From this year that arrangement has been changed to a more formal Service Level Agreement between the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea and the Kyoto Gardens Association.

To mark that change, the Kyoto Chamber of Commerce paid for a fresh team of gardeners led by Yasuo Kitayama to carry out substantial alterations and additions.

Yasuo Kitayama is probably the most well respected Japanese gardener of today and heads the Kyoto Gardens Association. Remember the name: Kitayama.

There are four main principles behind Japanese gardens: nature; geomancy; Buddhism and a system of taboos, all of which we will encounter as as we go round. These principles are set out in a book called Sakuteiki – a subject we will return to later in our stroll.

Standing back and surveying the garden in front of us it is pretty obvious that what we’re looking at is indeed a natural scene.

In front of us are trees, grass, plants, a pond, waterfall and rocks laid out in an attractive order.

Primitive people have always been close to nature and their environment and thus winding the clock back about 4,500 years we find the earliest known religion in this garden’s time-line is Tao.

Taoists believe that the essence of all things is found in Tao. What is Tao? There are plenty of theories – however, the key point is that they see “Tao” in all things – particularly the natural world.

This vision of the natural world was then adopted by the Buddhists who happily co-existed along side Tao and used the natural imagery of that religion to develop gardens as examples of heaven on earth.

When the original, ritual rich, Buddhism was introduced to Japan from China a similar assimilation took place with the native Shinto religion which also saw gods and spirits living in natural objects. This strong tradition of nature in the garden was developed further with the development in particular of Zen Buddhism in Japan.

Now let’s consider as we look at this natural scenery, the next principle of Japanese gardens – geomancy:

Geomancy is a catchall expression describing a complex group of interrelated concepts that are popularised today as feng sui but which is probably best described as a form of Eastern astrology.

It originated in China and there are three sources of Chinese theoretical geomantic principle with which the garden has to comply:

1. The theory of Yin and Yang (or the theory of mutual opposites) which the Japanese call In and On.

2. Yi (the theory of changes), also known as I Ching; and

3. The Five Phases Theory.

To those must be added the four guardian gods – black tortoise in the north, blue dragon in the east, scarlet bird in the south and white tiger in the west.

We could go into a lot of detail on this and it is a fascinating subject all of its own – but I propose to push on and just ask you to accept that when I say such things as “the movement of change is in a clockwise direction” – you accept that and that the source of is the Theory of Yi.

Modern Japanese gardens still have to comply with these ancient principles and there are plenty of examples in this garden.

The next principle that I want you to consider is Buddhism and because this is a Japanese garden, Zen Buddhism in particular.

Zen was first formulated in China (as Ch’an) and evolved in Japan into the type of Buddhist philosophy that we now see practiced all around the world.

Zen means “meditation”, and consequently you can be of any faith and still practice Zen. Buddhism is not a religion in the sense of “faith” as Siddhartha Gautama, the historical Buddha from northern India, never claimed to be anything more than an Enlightened Individual.

Many people will say that Zen gardens are dry, consisting of raked sand and stones – the one at Ryokan-ji with its fifteen stones perhaps being the most famous. They are right.

But Zen gardens are also wet – being made up of moss, trees and stones. As moss will not readily grow in our climate – we use grass.

If you are going to meditate you need to concentrate your thoughts on just one thing at a time. To help, followers of Zen use unanswerable puzzles called koans to concentrate the mind. (“What is the sound of one hand clapping?” for example)

Another instrument they use is a garden such as this one. This is called a stroll garden and the idea is to hide and reveal different natural scenes as you walk.

You cannot pay attention to the whole garden at once – and that is why it is made up of different scenes or view points.

I mentioned just now one of the most famous Zen gardens in the world - the one in Ryoan-ji which contains 15 stones set in a bed of sand. Although it isn’t a stroll garden such as this, no matter where you stand – you will never ever be able to see all 15 stones at once and hence the principle of hide and reveal!

The final principle that I mentioned earlier relates to taboos. And this is where our physical walk probably first demonstrates compliance with the four basic principles.

This stone on the left of the entrance is a Tsukubai – a small basin in which to wash your fingers and rinse your mouth before starting the stroll through the garden to the Tea Ceremony. It is taboo not to cleanse yourself before entering a mosque. It is taboo to not cover your head (if you are a woman) when entering certain Christian buildings or not to wear a skull cap when entering a synagogue if a man. We all have taboos! This is a Japanese one.

The basin is designed to look like an old Chinese coin. Remember Buddhism came from China to Japan and this evokes age.

Age is an important component of Zen as it implies wisdom and experience. Opportunities are found in many areas to deliberately evoke age – through arts such as bonsai and the pruning of trees in the garden called niwaki.

To read the inscription, you have to include the square in the centre. Translated, the inscription reads, rather aptly I think, “Know enough – Enough to know”.

Normally there would be a small ladle on the top – this now lives in my office for photographs and special occasions.

Across the path – we have the meadow.

A principle of the garden is that it must be natural. This evolved under the Zen influence in particular into a series of natural scenes that were viewed and contemplated on the way to a Tea Ceremony.

Tea was introduced to Japan at about the same time as Zen and they came together as a ritual to focus the mind as much as to provide a welcome stimulating shot of caffeine to otherwise dozing medidator’s!

Earlier gardens were laid out as natural views to be enjoyed from the house – particularly the Southern Court or as pleasure gardens representing a sort of heaven on earth – spaces for earthly delight.

Zen introduced a much more austere view – simple needs, simple means. Abstract and fluffy rituals were banished in favour of meditation and in particular sitting meditation (Zazen) to assist with attaining enlightenment.

So what are we to make of the meadow? It is one of the views provided in this garden stroll. The Tulip tree’s aerial roots are now much lower than they would ordinarily be as the ground as had to be raised. To prevent that harming the tree and causing collar rot, a thick layer of pebbles in bags was wrapped around the base. This is a novel solution to a common problem rarely seen anywhere else.

The stones (and I am going to be pointing out a lot of stones to you for very good reason) these are called Chasing Stones. These are so called as they evoke either a pack of dogs at rest, pigs in a field or calves at play.

Looking beyond the chasing stones we see the pond:

The pond is roughly shaped like a tortoise (Kame) “because water takes the shape of the vessel it enters”.

It could also be in the shape of a crane (Tsuru).

A tortoise (do you remember that I said the Black Tortoise is the god protecting the north of the garden?) is the symbol of longevity and good fortune while the crane is revered as a symbol of eternal youth and happiness: “Cranes live a thousand years – tortoises 10,000”.

The pond shores: The closest shore line to us is called the Pebble Beach (ara iso). Originally only the Emperor had this feature in his garden but the rules were relaxed in time. It is deliberately uninviting to sit upon.

Next to it is the Rocky Cove shoreline (sahuma). These evoke the rocky shores of the Japanese coastline and the dangers that they present are emphasised by the Lighthouse lantern.

And over there on the far south eastern corner is the Boggy Marsh. I would have expected this to have been in the south west corner for two reasons – the geomantic tradition that the waters of the Blue Dragon shall flow and wash evil away following the path of the White Tiger (ie the water should flow as it does from NE to SW) and as an anagram for Kyoto where fresh springs traditionally were found in the NE and boggy soils in the SW.

The islands: Japan is of course made up of many islands and so it is not surprising that we see them included in the pond. Tradition has it that these evoke the Tortoise and Crane myths that I described earlier, however the thinking now is that these represent Pine Bark Island (matsu kawa) and Mountain Isle (yamajima).

A very famous 17th Century Japanese poet, Matsuo Basho (1640-1694), once wrote a haiku that translates as “Islands shattered / into thousands of pieces / the summer sea”. [Shimajima ya / chiji ni kudakete / natsu noumi]

Looking back now we see the granite viewing area. Granite is the predominant rock of the Kyoto region. Standing here we have a new view of the Cascade – the feature most people think of as the key component of this garden.

It is located in the NE corner for reasons that I gave just now – the waters of the Blue Dragon shall flow and wash away all evil by following the path of the White Tiger.

There is another reason too – according to geomantic tradition the cascade has to face the moon and if you remember my earlier explanation of mutual opposites – Heaven and Earth; Wind and Thunder; Mountain and Lake etc – you will probably now realise that the Sun is placed in the East and the moon in the West.

There are two very similar cascades as this to be found in a temple complex TAIZO-IN near Kyoto. The original one is in a dry ZEN garden and the most recent one, has running water. Ours was dramatically altered this year and if you look closely at it you will notice that the water flow roughly follows the kanji symbol known as Fudo Myoo.

Fudo Myoo is the Japanese name for a Sanskrit Buddhist God called Acala who is one of the Five Wisdom Kings of the Womb Realm revered mainly by adherents to the Shingon sect.

He is reputed to live in cascades but when drawn or sculpted has a curtain of fire behind him: why? The answer is found in the earlier explanation of geomancy – as water puts out fire they are mutual opposites.

Fudo Myoo’s presence is important here as he protects, instructs people in the teachings of the Buddha and assists us with self control – mainly because he, the immovable one, is unmoved by all things and in particular, carnal attractions.

At the top of the cascade is the mountain. In the mountain the holy man lives, living off moss and drinking the mists. Flanking its sides are the forested ravines.

We move now to the bridge:

I suggested you might want to take your shoes off at the start of this walk – and here is why. These stones are deliberately difficult to walk on as a lesson that life is difficult and we always need to watch our step. Take care. Without shoes you will probably appreciate this point of the walk more than if your feet are soled.

The bridge is almost identical to one in TENJU-AN – another temple in Kyoto.

Originally it was planned to be located between the Tulip tree and the Headache tree, but once on site, SHOJI NAKAHARA, the original designer of this garden, changed his mind.

It is staggered because evil travels in straight lines. Unable to change direction, the evil thought or demon drops into the sea.

This also reminds us to consider the barriers to the ramped entrance and the wall in front of the main steps. Walking directly into a Tea garden or building as one does an western office block is unlucky – it’s taboo. There – that word again. Taboo.

Taboos can occur at any time and in any place and the only way to avoid them is to skirt around them – ie step aside or to change direction.

People can be affected by taboos as well as places. Traditionally anyone with a taboo on them would advertise that by putting a taboo stick on the entrance to their house or room that they were in. People would then approach them by another direction or avoid them until the taboo had passed. If they had to go outside, they would wear a taboo stick as an adornment on their heads.

Old hat? You may think so – but today we see people in Japan walking down the street particularly in winter with face masks on to avoid spreading a cold to their fellow citizens – a modern version of a taboo stick.

As we pass over the bridge we see the largest snow lantern (yukimi) in the garden on our right. This would be lit with a candle for snow viewing – a winter occupation akin to moon gazing, Zazen or even train spotting.

To our left we see a new lantern – also a snow lantern but with natural scenes carved into it most noticeably a deer on the northern side. And just beyond – to scare the Munchak deer that have been recorded in the park for the first time this year - a deer scarer (or Shisi-odoshi).

Beside it is the well – a new feature that is particularly evocative of temple gardens. You will notice the shape is square. This draws upon the famous CIRCLE – TRIANGLE – SQUARE calligraphy of an 18th Century Buddhist called SENGAI GIBON. “All things in the universe are represented by these forms.”

And this brings me very neatly to another aspect of this garden: why so much green?

The original Buddhist gardens of the Heian period in Japan were quite floral and represented as I said earlier, as sort of heaven on earth – a space for earthly delights as it were. However once Zen started to be formulated, that all changed.

Around about the 11thC monks returning from China brought with them highly prized black monochrome landscape drawings – called SUIBOKU SANSULGA – which allude to the belief that “black is the one true colour in which all others can be seen”. Translated into the Zen garden, green becomes the new black.

Flowers are still included as can be seen with the Hydrangeas over in the Black Tortoise territory and the water iris that flower in the marsh each spring. And of course, I re-iterate the point that were we to be in Kyoto, this garden would almost certainly be covered in moss rather grass.

The two pine trees (Matsu) have been deliberately shaped and pruned to age them. Pines represent something unbending and sturdy and there is another famous Haiku written by the poet Issa that reads: “Look to the pines of our godly land! The orishiya ships”. [Shinkokuno / matsu o itoname / orishiyabane]. This is a commentary on the Russian ships that were seen particularly in the north of Japan at a time when they were trying to remain cut off from the outside world … and something that opera goers will know from the sad story of Madam Butterfly they were unable to do when Commodore Matthew Perry arrived in 1853 from the United States of America.

Buddhists normally arrange things in odd numbers and so initially I wasn’t quite sure why there are only two pines here until I looked back through them to the new well and snow lantern. They frame a marvellous view of two more of Kitayama-san’s new elements in the garden and this view will be added to in the coming years as that part of the garden is to be further developed.

Feelings of enclosure in this garden are much more pronounced now by the various bamboo fences. This is in keeping with the reality of Kyoto gardens being mainly courtyards as well as providing a defined space for our walking meditation. The hooped fences are a very polite request not to walk on the moss / grass. Stepping over a straight piece of bamboo is akin to asking to be executed!

And now we look back near the entrance but not directly in front of it to those three rocks beside the Headache Tree. They are the Buddhist Trinity – Buddha and his two attendants. They are not directly facing the entrance because to do so is taboo (bad luck).

I drew your attention earlier that the flat rock behind the chasing stones – well, in addition to being a part of that group it is also the “fore stone” for this Buddhist Trinity. On there you may sit in Zazen or pay homage to the Buddha on the other side of the pond.

Stones are extremely important in the Japanese garden and the book that informs all Japanese Gardens is called Sakuteiki – which means “the setting of stones”. Written in the 11th Century it is the oldest surviving book on Japanese gardening ever written (and probably on any gardening for that matter) and survives today as two brush written scrolls. Later editions have fortunately included illustrations.

And now – we return to the point at the start of our stroll where I asked you to remember a man’s name – Yasuo Kitayama, reputedly the greatest garden builder and designer of his generation, head of the Kyoto Gardens Association, creator of gardens all over the world etc.

Why?

For the answer we need to return to the cascade. You will see that very large yellow coloured rock in the centre of the cascade and which took many hours to place correctly this year. The water rushes around it to provide the curve in the kanji symbol for Futo Myoo – the immovable one. The rock is made up of calcite rather than the igneous granite used elsewhere and comes from the mountains to the north of Kyoto.

Just as every great painting has the artist’s signature on it, I am sure you will not be surprised to learn that this garden is also signed. That rock is Kitayama-san’s signature on this garden – for that rock, shipped over from Japan, was actually quarried in the Kitayama mountain range.

Time for tea.

(With considerable thanks to my mentors: Yasuo Kitayama, Steve Hagan, Marc Treib, Prof. Jiro Takei and Prof. Marc Keane amongst the many others . . .)