Having written up to here, I’m extremely perplexed.
No matter how I try, I can’t write down my mantra.
Even now, our society puts a lot of importance on the meaning of our mantras. They’re words offered to the gods that are the keys to activating our cantus. We are warned to never use them in vain lest the power be lost.
On the other hand, these are just the words to the spell — sounds without meaning. So revealing it here shouldn’t cause any harm.
I want to understand the reasoning behind that. In the deepest parts of my subconscious is a natural defense against exposing my mantra. Even now, I can feel the hand holding the pen being restrained every time I try to write it down.
So for those who want to know what a mantra is, I’ve written an example below.
Namo ākāśagarbhaya oṃ ārya kamari mauli svāhā.
Incidentally, this is the mantra of the Akasagarbha bodhisattva given to Satoru.
The rest of my initiation dragged on for a long time, so I won’t write it all down. When it was finally over, the sky was brightening in the east, and everyone was exhausted.
I slept like a log for a full day afterwards. When I woke up, I spent a day in service with the studying priests, and the day after that I was allowed to go home.
Head Priest Mushin and the other monks in the Temple of Purity wished me good luck and bid me farewell under the leafing cherry trees. I got into the window-less houseboat once again and traveled back to the village — the journey only took two hours this time.
My parents hugged me tightly for a long time. There was a celebration that night; the table was filled with all my favorite dishes. There were oven-warmed yam dumplings, raw altered-protein flounder filets, savory tiger crab soup…
With that, my long childhood had come to an end. The next day, I would start a new life.