Rock gardens and moss gardens

I visited Ryōan-ji on my Kyoto trip, I had previously read that it had a big influence on Steve Jobs and wanted to see what he saw.

The first impression was very underwhelming, the garden was small, rectangular rather than a natural shape, and there was paint peeling off the walls around it. I sat and counted the large rocks, remembering what I read: there are 15, but from any vantage point you can only see 14. I verified that it’s true. I looked closer at the rocks, the tiny patch of moss they sit on, and the circular patterns raked into the white gravel around, and try to imagine them as tall mountains, on islands, in oceans. Then I stared at the white gravel.

At this point my mind started to drift, I imagined jumping off a cliff into the ocean, something that I knew people enjoyed but was too scary for me. I noticed that even in my imagination I avoided doing it, which felt absurd since there was no ‘real danger’ to the imaginations, so I tried to force myself to at least imagine doing it. The first few times I vividly imagined being on the cliff with the intention of jumping, but never making it. Then I did, but ‘backed out’ mid jump by ending the imagination. I kept at it, and each time it got a little bit easier, I jumped off with a bit more gusto, I stayed in the air a little longer, and I dove into the water with a little more flair. I was sweating, clenching, and hyperventilating by the end. I was mildly saddened by the realisation that my imagination was being held back by real world fears.

I then notice a subtle, odd, illusion of controls. I was sitting cross legged, leaning slightly back, and my fingers were clinging tightly to the edge of the wooden platform I sat on, as if to prevent me from falling backwards. It was odd because the fingers weren’t bearing any load (my back was), but in my subconscious they were. I then remembered coming up with narratives like this (hold on tight so I don’t fall) when I was a kid to amuse myself. I found it curious that the made up nature of the story was forgotten but the ‘moral of that story’ persisted in my subconscious.

I left the temple, not seeing what Steve Jobs saw, but happy with what I did see.

The next day, I visited a moss temple. The moss was incredibly beautiful, layered with many different textures. From any angle of the long winding corridor it looked like a perfectly painted landscape, and it was a stark contrast to the first impression of the rock garden. I sat to meditate, after an hour or so I realised something odd, layers started to fall apart, the well groomed trees don’t look as sharp anymore, dry patches in the moss became more noticeable, the miniature gourd shaped lake with a bridge started to look a bit incomplete.

Then it occurred to me how incredible it was that the rock gardens look better the longer you look at them, the intense simplicity almost forces me to project my thoughts on them, and it was as much about what was taken away as what was placed there.