The Japanese folktale of the selfish scholar - Iseult Gillespie

In ancient Kyoto, a Shinto monk lived a
simple life,

but he was often distracted from his
prayers by the bustling city.

He felt that his neighbors
were polluting his soul,

and he sought to perform some
kind of harae–

a purification ritual that would cleanse
his body and his mind.

He decided to travel
to the revered Hie Shrine.

The trip was an arduous climb that
took all day.

But he was glad for the solitude it
afforded him,

and the peace he felt upon returning
home was profound.

The monk was determined to maintain
this clarity for as long as possible,

and resolved to make this pilgrimage
another 99 times.

He would walk the path alone, ignoring any
distractions in his quest for balance,

and never stray from his purpose.

The monk was true to his word, and as
days stretched into weeks,

he walked through driving rain
and searing sun.

Over time, his devotion began to reveal
the invisible world of spirits

which exists alongside our own.

He began to sense the kami, which animated
the rocks underfoot,

the breeze that cooled him,
and the animals grazing in the fields.

Still he spoke to no one, spirit or human.

He was determined to avoid contact with
those who had strayed

from the path and become
polluted with kegare.

This taboo of defilement hung over
the sick and deceased,

as well as those who defiled the land
or committed violent crimes.

Of all of the threats to the monk’s quest
for spiritual purity,

kegare was by far the greatest.

After paying his respects for the
eightieth time,

he set out for home once more.

But as darkness fell, he heard strained
sobs in the night air.

The monk tried to push forward and
ignore the desperate moans.

But the desperate cries overwhelmed him.

Grimacing, he left his path to follow
the sound to its source.

He soon came to a cramped cottage,
with a woman crumpled outside.

Filled with pity, the monk implored the
woman to share her sorrow.

She explained that
her mother had just died–

but no one would help her with the burial.

At that news, his heart sank.

Touching the body would defile his spirit,

draining his life force and leaving
him forsaken by the kami.

But as he listened to her cries,
his sympathy soared.

And so, they buried
the old woman together,

to ensure her safe passage
into the spirit world.

The burial was complete, but the taboo
of death weighed heavily on the monk.

How could he have been so foolish,

to shirk his most important rule and
corrupt his divine journey?

After a tormented night, he resolved to
go back to the shrine to cleanse himself.

To his surprise, the usually quiet temple
was filled with people,

all gathering around a medium who
communicated directly with the kami.

The monk hid himself, not daring approach
in case anyone glimpse his polluted soul.

But the medium had other ways of seeing,
and called him forward from the crowd.

Ready to be forsaken, the monk approached
the holy woman.

But the medium merely smiled.

She took his impure hand in hers, and
whispered a blessing only he could hear–

thanking him for his kindness.

In that moment, the monk discovered
a great spiritual secret:

contamination and corruption
are two very different things.

Filled with insight, the monk set himself
back on his journey.

But this time, he stopped
to help those he met.

After his one hundredth pilgrimage,

he began to venture through the city
he had previously shunned.

Others cautioned that he risked kegare–

but he never told them why he so
freely mingled

with the sick and disadvantaged.

For he knew that people could only truly
be moved to good deeds

through a journey of their own.