Reflecting on the background of the Kinkaku-ji arson incident, this essay revisits Temple of the Golden Pavilion by Mizukami Tsutomu and contemplates the profound bond between mother and son.
It is a quiet meditation on sacrifice, suffering, and a mother who truly deserves spiritual peace.
Published on May 13, 2017.

This is the mother who truly deserves to rest in peace, I thought so strongly, from the bottom of my heart.
May 13, 2017.
It is the mother of Hayashi Kenyo who should find peace.
January 4, 2011.
Good morning.
I live a life of going to bed early and waking up early.
I do not watch meaningless television, nor do I even read newspapers.
Until last year I always watched the Waseda–Meiji rugby match, but now I do not even watch it, nor read the results.
Yesterday, I was looking through photographs that needed to be uploaded, and although I went to bed a little later than usual, after half past midnight, I woke up around six in the morning.
At the beginning of the completed photographs of Kinkaku-ji, there was a wooden signboard written by Kyoto City, and the roots of a massive tree hundreds of years old.
I had not even properly checked the name of the tree, so I searched online for “the tree at the entrance of Kinkaku-ji,” but nothing came up.
However, thanks to that, I encountered a very fine article.
Within it, the part that captured my heart is quoted below.
In Mizukami Tsutomu’s Kinkaku Enjo.
Omitted above.
Emphasis within the text is mine.
At the time, there was no one in Nariu who went on to middle school.
Another reason was that although tuition was one thing, the cost of school supplies was supposed to be covered by her brother in the village.
If that was the case, she might have decided to entrust her child to her brother until graduation.
The final reason was that Dogan’s illness had progressed to an extreme degree, and it is reasonable to think they feared infection.
It feels as though all three of these reasons overlapped in the move to Yasuoka.
From around that time, Shimako could be seen making the round trip from Nariu to Yasuoka in a single day, holding a parasol, not even riding a bicycle.
The people of Nariu encountered Shimako sitting under the shade of oak and chinquapin trees along the three-ri cliff path, gazing out at the sea.
Before visiting this site, I had been reading about the essence of the Muromachi period represented by Kinkaku-ji, Ginkaku-ji, and Tenryu-ji.
Then I remembered that the person who set fire to Kinkaku-ji had been a young monk, had he not?
Thinking that Mishima Yukio’s novel might have been based on a true story, I searched and encountered this wonderful body of work by Tokyo Kurenai-dan.
Why did this passage capture my heart so deeply?
A man and a woman.
A mother and her son.
This mother, I thought with all my heart, is the one who truly deserves to find peace.
Even now, tears overflow from my eyes.