As I stare at the carved maxim of the three wise monkeys pinned on an overhead panel at Tōshō-gū, the proverbial mantra it personifies was made apparent to me almost immediately; "See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil". Recognizing where I stood at that very moment, surrounded by temples—concealed under a canopy of autumn leaves—I couldn’t fathom how any of my senses can conjure a negative energy.

As the yellow glare of the sun seeps through the gap of intertwining tree branches, I feel the cool wind of the fall season penetrating through my thin sweater. Proceeding forward, I gingerly slid my strides taking my sweet time and directing my eyes to the centuries-old structures around me. With each step of my feet, I can hear a feint crackling sound of fallen shrubberies—hued with a synthesis of dark red and gold—spread out on the ground like the tail end of a dotted brushstroke.

After a couple of hours watching the fast-moving slide show of Japanese countryside from my train’s window seat, I alighted at the Tobu Nikko Railway station instantly feeling the airy wind of the city. Following a few days walking and trainspotting around Tokyo, I’ve gotten used to hearing the symphony of clackety-clack from the walking hordes of Japanese commuters. Here in this station though, the sounds of footsteps were a little muffled and the movements of the crowd were more relaxed.

A quaint town vibe greeted me outside—and a walkable one. There was a tourist bus heading to the temples outside waiting for travelers to board. I opted to proceed on foot for more sightsee opportunities. Circling my first destination on my tattered old-school map; the Shinkyo Bridge, I casually started my exploration.

Lining up both sides of the immaculate road are small establishments; cafes and sushi joints secreting scrumptious aroma tempting my starving self. I stopped a couple of times to check on the menu prices—each time retreating to the road—after realizing its not within reach of my food budget.

After fifteen minutes, I reached a curve where I turned left, and immediately, I caught sight of a red lacquered length arching stunningly across the Daiya River. There it was; the sacred bridge erected in 1636 at the entrance of Nikko's Futarasan Shrine. Raved to be as among Japan's three most beautiful bridges, Shinkyo Bridge—which is now off limits to people—is such a Zen sighting blending beautifully against the green forests behind and the clear waters streaming underneath.

Buoyed by excitement, I advanced with hurried steps into the grounds of Futarasan Shrine where the foliage-covered grounds mirror a Jackson Pollock unfinished canvas. Inside the complex, the crowd seem to thicken as a Mounted Archery competition is being held. I stood among the spectators as I watch a few archers wearing colorful traditional Samurai armor and Kamakura-era clothing, fired three arrows at the stationary target while riding their respective horses at full gallop.

Following a foot path that passes through a small forest, I started marveling at the small temples and shrines that seems to increase in size as I go further. The 400-year old Shintro Shrine—flanked on both sides by old giant trees—met my gaze and dropped jaw as I could only mouth the word "Wow".

As the three wise monkeys; Mizaru, Mikazaru and Mazaru attract a crowd of onlookers all marveling at its 17^th century carved form by Hidari Jingoro—to depict man’s life cycle—I continued to the other temples and shrines of all sizes.

I passed by the 1619 Honden—considered as the most sacred building in every Shinto Shrine—It is here where the three Futarasan deities are enshrined. Nearby, are the Haiden worship hall, and a giant Tori leading to more worship halls and hondens.

The Shrines and Temples of Nikkō covers 103 structures built inside two Shinto complexes: Futarasan Shrine and Tōshō-gū—as well as a lone Buddhist Temple; the Rinno-ji. These three complexes are all located beside each other and can be explored in a day. Inscribed collectively as a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1999, these sacred buildings are also classified as National Treasures of Japan and Important Cultural Properties.

As my mind reels from a morning filled with newfound learnings; about feudal Japanese history, I started feeling hunger pangs. Taking a break from my educational exploration, I walked towards a long line of people standing near a white tent. I saw them ordering food I initially thought was an ordinary Japanese dish. It turned out to be Soba Noodles (buckwheat), which is one of the local dishes Nikko is known for.

As I sat to chow down my food, I let out a sigh of relief at finally resting my weary feet. Looking at the reddened tree leaves and the blue sky above me, I nodded at the invisible Gods—whom the many shrines and temples in Nikko were built for—and delivered a short message; “Arigato for letting the universe bring me here”.

“Life is a loom, weaving illusion” [1] and in Mindanao’s storied sundry of woven heritage, a diverse weaving art scattered across the region abounds with dream-like patterns and fascinating backstories. Anecdotes encompassing historical origins and local legends shaped the roots of the various cloth creations of the Dreamweavers’ T’nalak of South Cotabato, the Langkit of Maranao, the Dagmay of the Mandayas, the Tausugs's Habul Tiyahian, the Inabal of Davao del Sur’s Bagobo-Tagabawa tribe, among others—and in this case, ushering a festivity called the Inaul Festival.

Stepping out of cultural obscurity is the renaissance of Maguindanao’s living weaving tradition of Inaul. Literally translated to "weave" in local Maguindanaon language, the Inaul is a fabric conveying Muslim culture and heritage through a myriad of vibrant colors and intricate designs.

The Inaul's common colors are said to symbolize true Maguindanaon principles: Red for bravery, yellow and orange for royalty, black for dignity, green for peace, and white for either mourning or purity.

Most of the Inaul weavers we met at the trade expo during the festival hails from the municipality of Sultan Kudarat in Maguindanao. It was here where we also talked with Noraina Ansing, an Inaul master weaver for more than 30 years. She discussed to us the five main designs they usually create. These are the Sikukaruwang, Lombayan, Karanda, Biyaludan and the Sikuaundune.

The Sikukaruwang blends the main pattern shaped like an elbow, with a diamond-shaped figure called the 'kinayupu'. The Lombayan evokes the emotions of love and sadness. The third design meanwhile, came about from a friendly weaving competition Ansing’s grandfather Sultan Umping of Butig, asked her four wives to participate. The winning design woven by his fourth wife became known as the karanda. The Biyaludan is the most expensive among the five designs and used only during special occasions. The process of weaving this design involves the more complicated tie-dyed process. The Sikuaundune is characterized by a small tip with a shorter tail. The patterns on this one is achieved when weavers combine two designs.

In hopes of sustaining the reemergence of this traditional weaving art, the province of Maguindanao organized a festival named after it in 2017. Since then it has been held every month of February in the municipality of Buluan.

The Inaul Festival - unlike most festivals in the country, is not a one weekend spectacle. The festivities lasted two weeks consisting of various events like cultural shows, local cuisine exhibition, rodeo contest and a beauty pageant called the "Palamata Nu Maguindanao". Young women from Maguindanao showcased long gowns made of Inaul fabric hence making the event a beauty pageant slash cultural show. During the Governor's Night, the Inaul fabric once again took center stage as beauty queens and fashion models swaggered over the catwalk wearing fancy Inaul formal wear.

The highlight of the Inaul Festival occurred on the streets of Buluan where contingents from various towns and municipalities paraded their Inaul themed floats along with street dancers and musical bands.

All of the performers were adorned with malong and gowns made of Inaul cloth created from the three types of threads: tanor (cotton), silk (rayon) and the katiyado, commonly used by the skilled Maguindanaoan women weavers.

The dazzling display of the Inaul Festival street parade performers covered in vivid colors, even under the bright sheen of the sun, made a lasting jovial impression on myself. Not only have I learned more about the Inaul woven art of Maguindanao, I have also seen it up close worn by men and women of all ages engage in all sorts of celebratory movements.

As the decibels of the drum beats starts to drown out and the street parade contingents wrap up their performances, I ran my fingers at the smooth surface of a piece of Inaul cloth our hosts have given us. It made me imagine the tedious process of shedding, picking and battening – all repeated thousands of times, just to finish a woven bit.

Afterward, I recalled the glowing face of Noraina Ansing as she narrates to us the intricacies of Inaul weaving. Buoyed by her and fellow women weavers' passionate efforts in keeping this wonderful living art to live on, I felt the pride covering her appearance becoming contagious.

[1] Quote from Vachel Lindsay