31 pages • 1 hour read
Hōjōki: Visions of a Torn World
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Themes
The Appreciation of Impermanence
Impermanence, or mujō, is a major part of Japanese culture. Japan has many terms revolving around this idea. Mono no aware is the specific awareness of transience, and it is often used to convey an appreciation for the things that do not last. Cherry blossoms are a common symbol in Japanese literature—as they only last for a few weeks, they are perfect representations of the beautiful but fleeting nature of life. The tradition of hanami, or flower viewing, continues in 21st-century Japan—people will gather under cherry trees and eat and drink, appreciating their fleeting beauty for the short time it lasts. Wabi-sabi is another term relating to transience and imperfection; it typically relates to the aesthetic of these concepts, such as ikebana, flower arranging, and kintsugi, the art of repairing broken pottery with gold to emphasize its changed appearance.
Chōmei repeatedly refers to impermanence throughout “Hōjōki,” citing it as a major consideration in both his decision to become a recluse and the way he built his hut. Chōmei even opens “Hōjōki” with a metaphor about the transience of life: “Ceaselessly the river flows, and yet the water is never the same” (1). He notes how few people he recognizes on the street in adulthood, implying that childhood friends move away or die as time passes. Houses, too, are often torn down or destroyed and replaced with new ones, such that the landscape of the neighborhood is constantly changing.
Chōmei believes that “all the difficulties of life spring from this fleeting evanescent nature of man and his habitation” (10-11). In society, people grow too attached to their homes, and they are burdened with numerous considerations about their estates. Most people must consider the size and location of their homes, and they must make room for their family and their servants while remaining conscious of their status in relation to their neighbors. If they must move, such as when the capital was relocated to Fukuhara, they must deal with the hassle of dismantling their houses, finding new property, and rebuilding, when their homes were not designed to be transported. Alternatively, they may abandon their old houses and start fresh at a great cost, or they may remain where they are, giving up opportunities for societal advancement. And all of this, Chōmei points out, is still subject to the inevitable impermanence of life: Either the head of the estate will die, or the home will be destroyed in some disaster, but one way or another, it will not last.
Chōmei’s hut reflects his deep understanding of the impermanence of the world. He writes that he purposely built it out of “rough plastered earth” and “thatch” (13), with metal hinges to make it easier to dismantle and move, showing his detachment from any permanent locale. Because it is made of cheap, natural materials, it is not difficult to repair. It is simple and natural, which means he has nothing to mourn if it gets destroyed, since he can easily make another one.
Chōmei’s description of the mountains also illustrates his appreciation of the ever-changing nature of life. Removed from society, Chōmei has little to do: He practices Buddhism, writes, and plays music, but he also spends much of his time simply admiring nature. When he describes the walks he takes with the teenager that lives nearby, he writes, “[A]ccording to the season, there will be the cherry-blossoms to pluck and the maple or the bracken or some sort of berries to gather” (16). The cherry blossoms, as noted, represent impermanence, and this line shows that no two outings are ever quite the same. Even Chōmei’s schedule changes by the day: Since he is detached from society, he is able to choose his activities based on his own mood and preferences, which means his days are constantly shifting.
There is, however, some conflict in Chōmei’s reclusive lifestyle. Chōmei’s hut is built to represent impermanence, but ironically, he has lived in the same hut at the same spot for five years. Chōmei also expresses concern over his fondness for his detached lifestyle: He worries that “the affection [he has] for this thatched hut is in some sort a sin, and [his] attachment to this solitary life may be a hindrance to enlightenment” (20). For all that the inevitability of impermanence has taught him to live detached from the material world and to appreciate the constant changes in life, Chōmei has, like the city-dwellers he criticized, grown fond of his home and his lifestyle. He fears that, in attempting to appreciate impermanence and practice enlightened detachment, he has grown too used to his way of living. He derives too much joy from watching the changes in nature and choosing his own schedule, which conflicts with the sort of lifestyle he's attempted to lead in seclusion. Chōmei never settles on an answer to this problem, but he does recommit himself to Amida Buddha, showing that he wishes to try and remain detached per his teachings.
Perceptions of Suffering
A major element of Buddhism is the concept of the “three marks of existence”: impermanence, suffering, and the non-self. “Dukkha” (also spelled “duhkha”) refers to both large-scale suffering, like great tragedy, and small-scale dissatisfaction and stress. Buddhism teaches that “dukkha” is a fundamental element of existence, around which Buddha’s Four Noble Truths—the core of many Buddhist teachings—are structured.
Along with highlighting themes of Impermanence, Chōmei structures “Hōjōki” around the inevitability and prevalence of suffering. The first half of the text lists one disaster after another, most of which are natural phenomena. Living as a Buddhist through such a turbulent period inevitably shaped Chōmei’s perception of these occurrences. Raised around Buddhism and Shintoism, even taking Buddhist orders himself, Chōmei was highly familiar with the teachings of Buddha, and, thus, with dukkha. This background leads to Chōmei’s ultimate conclusion:
Thus it seems to me that all the difficulties of life spring from this fleeting evanescent nature of man and his habitation. And in other ways too the opportunities he has of being troubled and annoyed by things connected with his locality and rank are almost infinite (10-11).
Chōmei believes that people struggle to understand that suffering is inevitable and that nothing lasts. They strive for satisfaction that they will never find, and they grow attached to things that will not last, and they find themselves mired in the complex obligations of society, which cause them great stress. As a result, they suffer and fail to grasp the fundamental truths of the world.
Chōmei, on the other hand, demonstrates his understanding of these concepts. Upon determining the major sources of suffering, Chōmei chooses to remove himself from them by leaving society and building a small, temporary hut rather than lingering in his estate in the city. By designing his hut around impermanence, Chōmei eliminates—or at least intends to—those troublesome feelings of attachment. This frees him from despair in the event that his hut is destroyed or he must move it for one reason or another. Similarly, retreating into the mountains frees Chōmei from many sources of frustration, such as societal expectations. Though it is not official, many people believe that Chōmei moved to the mountains because he was not chosen to take on his father's role at Shimogamo shrine; it is possible that Chōmei’s background allowed him to interpret his frustration as “dukkha,” and his retreat into the mountains would thus reflect his freedom from that particular source of suffering.
The Freedom of Isolation
Chōmei makes no secret of the joy he derives from seclusion. The second half of “Hōjōki” is characterized by descriptions of his leisurely days, which are filled with art, nature, and beauty. Chōmei has no obligations to the court, nor to his neighbors. He can dress how he pleases, go where he likes, and nap during the day. He can compose music without caring about how he sounds, because no one is around to praise or criticize him. He lives a very sparse lifestyle, with few belongings and little food, but he does not live near wealthy nobles, so he feels no shame for his few belongings. Additionally, he feels that living off the land teaches one to appreciate their meals: “If you do not go into society you need not be ashamed of your appearance, and if your food is scanty it will have the better relish” (19). This mindset is a direct result of living through the Famine of Yōwa—to Chōmei, having access to wild food and the space for a small garden is more than enough to live on and feel content.
Additionally, isolation ties into Chōmei’s Appreciation of Impermanence and his commitment to the Buddhist idea of detachment. By removing himself from society, Chōmei makes the active decision to contribute to the notion of impermanence within society. At the beginning of “Hōjōki,” he comments on how few people he recognizes in the streets, as so many that he once knew have moved on in some fashion; in moving to the mountains, he, too, has changed the social landscape of Kyoto. By living in a tiny, natural hut alone, Chōmei leaves no trace of himself on the world except for his writing, and he leaves behind no legacy and very few people to mourn him.
Notably, Chōmei is not entirely alone on the mountain. He talks about the “keeper” who lives nearby, and he goes on frequent walks with the man’s teenage son. Chōmei mentions visiting temples on these walks though he does not name anyone they meet at these locations. He also talks about getting news from the capital, which indicates some degree of connection to society. Historically, Chōmei’s writings were featured in imperial collections, which also supports the reality that Chōmei’s isolation was only partial. This does not, however, diminish his argument for seclusion: Chōmei still lives alone, and he is still far enough removed from others that he no longer needs to take societal norms into consideration in his day-to-day life. Though Chōmei may not be entirely alone, he remains detached from most parts of the material world and is thus able to celebrate the extent of his freedom.
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