A Step Closer to Peace

Looking for Calm in Unexpected Places

I can hear them coming well before I see them.

A family is tromping through the woods behind me, not far from where I sit on a bench. I’m alone, for now, but it appears not for much longer.

At the tail end of a four day trip to eastern New York, and on my way back to New Hampshire, I saw a small red and gold handmade sign nailed to a tree with an arrow pointing toward something called the Grafton Peace Pagoda.

I immediately made the turn.

There is nothing out here but farm land and woods. I make a couple more turns, find a small parking lot on a dirt road with a sign pointing up a wooded path. (To be fair, at this point, I did a Google search of the pagoda to make sure it was real and not some kind of back country trap!)

But even then, I wasn’t prepared for the size and scope of this stupa. Once I popped out of the woods, it took me a few minutes to orient myself to what I was seeing - the enormous white pagoda, with two tiers and delicate gardens. In the center was a large Buddha, and stations around the upper tier telling the story of Buddha’s life.

I’ve visited stupas in India and Nepal, but never expected to encounter anything like this here. So I sat down to try to make sense of the pagoda. That’s when the family approaches.

The boys in the group sound young, maybe teenagers. There’s an older voice, perhaps the dad, who is egging them on as they crash down the trail toward the opening, getting louder and louder as they walk.

Finally, a woman’s voice cuts through the noise. “Listen, you guys, there might be other people here so can you for once not act like a bunch of assholes?”

I laugh. They all laugh, but they don’t quiet down. Not even a scolding mom can make that happen.

But their back and forth does end, and abruptly, the moment they hit the end of the clearing and the enormous pagoda comes into view. One of them actually gasps.

“What the heck?” I hear one of the boys say.

Indeed. What the heck?

It turns out that this incredible place is the brainchild of a Japanese Buddhist nun by the name of Jun Yasuda.

For decades, Jun was an activist, holding peace walks and marches in support of Native American rights and anti-war causes. In 1983, while in the middle of an anti-war fast on the steps of the Albany capital building, Jun was approached by Henry “Hank” Hazelton. During World War Two, Hank was a consciencous objector, not an easy thing to be back then. After the war, Hank traveled to Japan and saw first hand the devestating effects of the atomic bomb.

He vowed to do something with his life to promote peace. Meeting Jun on those steps, he understood what that something was going to be.

Hank offered Jun this parcel of land and together they set about building their Peace Pagoda. Hank lived long enough to witness the dedication of the pagoda in 1995 and Jun still lives and caretakes here. Her small home is attached to a nearby, traditional temple.

Before the family arrived, I had already walked both tiers of the pagoda, and stolled around the small pond. Now, with the family here, I explore the small woodland area near the temple, and as I do, I come across the tiny burial marker of Hank himself.

From the upper tier of the distant pagoda, I can hear the boys calling to each other. “Look at this, look at this,” one is shouting and pointing at Buddha.

Maybe they’re a step closer to peace. Maybe not. Maybe this place will speak to them, like it does to me. Or perhaps they’ll forget about it all tomorrow. I don’t know.

But I’m glad the Peace Pagoda exists, its brilliant white dome sparkling to the heavens. I’m glad I’m on the road again, and I’m glad I followed that sign.

“Well done, Hank,” I whisper. The boys laugh as I step back into the woods to head for home

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