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A Visit From the East

I was recently discussing climate change with my brother and suddenly started telling him about the mysterious visit of a Japanese enlightened woman to Osho in Poona in 1989 and my subsequent visits to her in her beautiful little temple in Enoshima, near Kamakura, where I lived for 5 years. He was uncharacteristically silent when I finished and then said, "You must write that down. It is such a beautiful story, it should not be lost!"

So, here is the story...

We were sewing peacefully in the sewing room in Lao Tzu House when there was a call for Japanese Geeta to come to Neelam’s office. Someone had arrived and translating help was need.
On her return Geeta told us that an old Japanese lady called Tamo–San, a priestess from a temple near Kamakura, south of Tokyo, had arrived with three disciples. She explained that she had come to visit Osho to give all her energy to him as he could reach people worldwide in a way that she could not. We were awed to hear this amazing story and were very curious to see how Osho would respond.
In Buddha hall that evening I could see the exquisite tiny lady sitting in the front row with her disciples. She seemed so light and so full of light and so very still. When Osho walked on to the podium, unusually Anando came with him. I saw that she was carrying a beautifully carved brass bowl.

Osho walked to the edge of the podium and gestured to Tamo–San to come to him. She gracefully got up and stood in front of him, smiling up at him. He took the bowl from Anando, picked up a handfuls of rose petals and gently showered Tamo–San with the petals. When they were finished he namasted to her, she bowed in the Japanese way to him and they both returned to their seats.
I was transfixed. What was I witnessing? There seemed to be a transmission without words, a conveying of knowing and understanding – and an exchange of infinite love.

Tamo–San left the next day without saying a word of what had transpired.

I never forgot the wonder of this moment and when I went to Japan a few years later and heard that Tamo–San was living in the next village from where I was, I of course went to see her with 3 other Western sannyasins who were also living in Kamakura. (We were all teaching English).
It was a winter afternoon when we arrived at the beautiful, beautiful, traditional, Japanese-style, old, thatched building. As when entering all Japanese buildings, we took our shoes off at the entrance and stepped into the slippers offered to guests. We were then welcomed by Tamo–San’s daughter who spoke quite good English. First we went into the temple where people were meditating. A faint fragrance of Japanese incense hung in the air and Tamo–San was – it is hard to explain – kind of singing a chant. She was, apparently, famous for this kind of chanting. Sitting there I felt the same energy as I felt sitting with Osho, although it was lighter and softer – maybe because she was a woman and older.
After the short ceremony, Tamo–San got up and welcomed us, giving us all an incredibly strong hug, surprising for its strength considering her size and age. This, we learnt later, is how she transmits energy to people, along with her singing.
She first gave us water to drink which she told us, through her daughter, came from a sacred well in the temple grounds and which contained healing properties. She then took us into her inner sanctuary where she had a shrine in the centre of which was a statue of Buddha. On Buddha’s left side was a Christian crucifix and on his right was a picture of Osho. She told us that these were the three most important beings the world had ever known and she meditated on all of them everyday.
I was blown away and felt myself part of a great mystery – particularly where Osho was concerned. How was this eight-five year old lady, who spoke no English and who lived in comparative isolation in a tiny village in Japan, so clear and sure about Osho’s importance in this world, equating him with Buddha and Christ? And what existential force or knowledge directed her to leave her sanctuary, get on a plane and go to Poona to see Osho for an evening and then return. It is a huge journey for such a frail old lady. I felt I was getting a tiny glimpse of something far beyond my understanding.
We also learnt something quite unexpected. It seemed that after getting a university degree in ecology, Tamo–San had spent much of her life campaigning tirelessly in Japan and many other countries for people and their leaders to wake up and do something about the damage we were causing to the environment. We were shown some albums of photos and newspaper clippings of her as a young woman leading rallies to raise awareness about saving the planet. She had also written a small book, the title of which, translated into English, was "Stop the Boat!" On the cover there was a sketch of people in a boat sailing towards weir. The people in the boat were facing the other way, unaware that disaster was only a few minutes away.
After all this, her daughter, who did not seem to share Tamo–San’s love for Osho and was rather abrupt with us, made it clear that she felt we had had enough attention and wanted us to leave. Tamo–San had other ideas, however, and created considerable consternation when she told her disciples that she wanted us all to stay for dinner. Not only that, she wanted to make us a treat – mulchi, a Japanese sweet which is rather strange but quite delicious.

I can’t find the words to express how incredibly sweet Tamo–San was – playful, childlike, delicate, gentle – but incredibly strong. She delighted in cooking for us and watching us eat the food she prepared for us.

Then it was time to go so once more she gave each one of us her incredible hug and we were ushered to the front entrance where we took off the slippers and stepped down onto the ground to put on our shoes. We were in a state of total bliss which was increased by the sight of snowflakes softly falling. We stood in awe at the now altered Japanese garden and trees all powdered with the glistening new snow.
Then there was a call and we turned back to look at the entrance and Tamo–San was there, gesturing us to wait. She then disappeared and we stood in the falling snow for a few minutes. We heard her softly singing before she re-appeared in the entrance – as if on a stage – and proceeded to dance a beautiful dance for us, accompanying herself with her own song. She ended by kneeling down and bowing to us, then got up and waved as she floated back into the house.

Needless to say we were all in tears at the incredible beauty and energy we had just been part of. We, too, floated back home.

Text by Veena, January 2008