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  • Even if Buddhism is not your religion, the Okunoin cemetery deep in the monastery village of Koya-San, Japan recognizes your human essence and invites you to become a part of it's forested memories anyway.

    As each ray of morning sun sinks in through the spaces between the canopies, and sparrows flap their tiny wings, you will hear the true conversation the natural world has been yearning to have with humanity all this time. The conversation of comfortable silence. Walking through this cemetery is akin to meditation with all senses open to an audience of trees, infinite in their verticality. Each bridge crossed, each step taken brings you closer and closer to becoming one with yourself in a place where no raging Tokyo city traffic, or workaholic schedule can find you.

    Lie down among the graves.

    From a birds eye view, you are ant-like, and even the gravestones appear larger than you.

    From a birds eye view, Okunoin cemetery is a monochromatic crown of treetops whose branches and leaves are capillaries that soak up the oxygen of the sky and releases it back into the soil, filtering through gravestones, into an entire country's decaying bones, into the day your body too will dissolve into vapor among them.

    Your life held by the palm of time's ever-shifting hand is one level of impermanence.
    The gravestone your loved one erects to remember you is another.

    But these trees carry the wisdom of a hundred centuries, and they will gently absorb your passing life into the network of memories where we are all interconnected in.

    City and ghost of city, memory and ghost of memory.

    A cemetery of past and future humanity dancing with the trees.
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