I am about to tell you a story about Shokoku-ji Temple, though I must confess—as a rather poor guide—that I know nothing of its sect or architectural style, nor have I ever stepped foot in the museum that is supposedly on its grounds. In fact, I only recently learned that its name is pronounced "Shokoku-ji" rather than "Sokoku-ji." When I finally got around to looking it up, I discovered that even the famous Golden and Silver Pavilions (Kinkaku-ji and Ginkaku-ji) are actually sub-temples of Shokoku-ji. It is, by all accounts, a temple of incredibly high status. But to me, none of that matters. To me, this place is simply "a beautiful path that I can pass through whenever I like," and that is what matters most of all.

Shokoku-ji is a massive temple located in Imadegawa, just north of the Kyoto Imperial Palace and right next to Doshisha University. Its grounds are as spacious as a small university campus. Broad stone-paved paths crisscross the premises, flanked by a garden of towering pine trees standing seven to eight meters tall, with temple halls even larger sitting solidly and quietly among them. The sky feels vast and open here, allowing the breeze to drift through. There are no grand gestures to force a sense of dignity or tension, yet a horizontal stillness and a timeless silence unique to temples flow through the air, always leaving me feeling just a little more grounded.

Back when I was working at a design firm in Tokyo, utterly exhausted and feeling as though I were at my wits' end, a friend invited me to come visit Kyoto. The moment I arrived, he said, "Let’s go for a walk," and led me outside. We walked down Karasuma Street, cut through Shokoku-ji, passed through the Demachi Masugata Shopping Street, and eventually came out by the Kamo River. During that walk, he hardly said a word. But as we neared the end, he murmured, "Kyoto naturally holds a larger sense of time." He paused for a moment to think, then added, "It makes you feel like you'll be okay, doesn't it? No matter what happens."

To have a colossal stretch of time, far exceeding one's own scale, lying quietly beside your daily routine. To simply pass through such a place as if it were the most natural thing in the world. This felt incredibly important to me.

Shokoku-ji remains open for anyone to pass through 24 hours a day, bustling with local women riding their bicycles and university students heading home from club activities. By the day after that walk with my friend, I had already made up my mind to move to Kyoto. Today, this path has become a regular part of my own daily walks.