Author: John D. (Page 79 of 202)

Sponsorship

May 31, 2015 / John D.

Gratitude for water, streams, and underground springs are an essential part of Shinto – and especially of Kamigamo Jinja. ‘Revering, cherishing and celebrating water,’ runs a shrine leaflet.

Green Shinto has posted recently on the financial woes of certain shrines in Kyoto. The terrible state of Shimogoryo Jinja was noted. The decision of Shimogamo Jinja to build an apartment block next to the sacred woods of Tadasu no mori. Plus the unfortunate erection of a ‘mansion’ within the outer torii of Nashinoki Jinja.

A packet of Koyama-Yusui Kohi (Coffee), specially prepared for the divine spring water

An interesting way of raising money was recently in evidence at the Aoi Festival, jointly held by Shimogamo and Kamigamo Shrines. As the procession wound up at Kamigamo, those amongst us in the crowd were intrigued to be handed packets of ‘holy coffee’. The idea was part of a scheme by the well-known Ajinomoto General Foods company, who are co-sponsoring various events related to the shikinen sengu renewal of the shrine.

Together with the coffee, a leaflet was handed out explaining its nature and purpose. Perhaps as an effect of prime minister Abe’s efforts to make a ‘beautiful Japan’, there’s a chauvinistic ring to what one might have imagined would be a universal taste:

“We at Ajinomoto General Foods have a deep sense of admiration for Kamigamo Jinja for preserving the source of renowned spring water Koyama-Yusui for such a long time in history and wanted to make its efforts known to a wide range of people. On this occasion, we made a premium quality coffee called Koyama-Yasui Coffeee which brings the most out of the pure spring water of Koyama-Yasui and satisfies the hearts of Japanese. Blended with the renowned natural water, the coffee is sure to be a great companion for a time spent on thinking about beautiful nature of Japan, its waters and forests.”

In sponsoring the spiritual, Japanese companies are sponsoring Japanese heritage

As well as handing out packets, the company put up a booth at the festival constructed out of Yoshino cedar by carpenters whose families had been involved with the shrine for centuries. Clearly here was an ideal form of sponsorship that worked to the benefit of both parties – on one side material gain and on the other a spiritual glow.

Perhaps sponsorship will become an attractive alternative to selling off land or using shrine woods for car parks. It’s a traditional part of shrine practice after all, evident in the company names written on sponsored torii or bottles of saké. It’s evident too in sponsored festival floats. It’s not inconceivable that in the future whole festivals and shrines will be sponsored as soccer teams in Japan once were, with names like Toyota Hachiman Jingu or Kawasaki Jidai Matsuri. Now there’s a thought…

Oh – and by the way, the coffee tasted divine!

(Next chances to sample the coffee will be at Kamigamo Jinja on July 25-26 and Oct. 17.)

Awata Jinja’s festival floats bear prominent sponsors names

The shrine water at Kamigamo Jinja is not only good for coffee making but for purification too.

Poetry contests

May 31, 2015 / John D.

Heian Verse and Winding-River Parties

Think of Heian-kyo (the old name for Kyoto), and what comes to mind? Aristocratic villas, perhaps, and The Tale of Genji for sure. Behind the images this evokes is an aesthetic called miyabi, or courtly refinement. It affected all areas of life, from clothing to pastimes such as moon-watching. At a time when much of Europe was mired in feudal struggle, the Heian court produced one of the world’s great cultural flowerings.

To convey their delicate feelings the aristocrats used verse as a means of expression, in particular the short poetry form known as waka. This was based on a 5-7-5-7-7 syllable pattern (haiku was formed later by dropping the last two lines). Topics ranged from nature appreciation through the whole gamut of love found and lost.

Of the many anthologies, the most famous are the tenth-century Kokinshu (Collection of Ancient and Modern) and the thirteenth-century Ogura Hyakunin Isshu (One Hundred Poems by One Hundred Poets). The former, containing 1,111 poems in all, was the first of twenty-one imperially sanctioned collections. In a perceptive preface by Ki no Tsurayuki, it identified the characteristics of the genre as sensitivity to nature, awareness of transience, and cultivation of harmony.

The preface built on the creed of Prince Shotoku (573-621), who had begun the country’s first constitution with the following: ‘Respect above all harmony. Your first duty is to avoid discord.’ It was not coincidental that the Chinese characters for ‘Japan’ and ‘harmony’ had been collided into one and the same ideograph, pronounced ‘wa’. Japan literally spelt harmony. Tsurayuki’s genius lay in the articulation of an aesthetic to underlie this.

Since humans resonate in tune with harmony, runs his thesis, the poet can promote unity by capturing the ‘good vibrations’ in words. These were communicated to others through sound, for waka were not simply written words but meant to be chanted out loud. (Translated literally, waka means ‘Japanese song’ and the verse are referred to as uta, or songs.) You could say then that the poems are a form of harmony in more ways than one.

Representative Poets
One noteworthy writer of waka was the ninth–century courtesan, Ono no Komachi. She is known in Japan as one of the ancient world’s three great beauties (along with Cleopatra and the Chinese, Youkihi). At her death she left behind some 80 poems, most of which speak of longing and frustration.

Komachi was apparently a lady-in-waiting, who later retired to a hermitage. The best-known story about her tells of how she once asked a suitor to prove his sincerity by visiting from his distant home for a hundred successive nights. He completed the journey ninety-nine times, but died on the hundredth occasion when he was caught in a snowstorm.

There is a tragic air to Komachi’s life as she plummets like Greta Garbo from pin-up to recluse, and not surprisingly the transience of beauty forms the theme of her best-known poem:

The flowers withered
Their colour faded away
While meaninglessly
I spent my days in the world
And the long rains were falling

Another female writer of distinction is Izumi Shikibu (c. 1000), who lived in the Golden Age of Heian-kyo when The Tale of Genji and The Pillow Book were written. Over 1,500 of her waka remain, from which it is evident she was a woman of passion with a turbulent emotional life. She was brought up at court and married twice to middle-ranking men, but her great love is described in her Diary where she tells of an affair with Prince Atsumichi. He installed her in his palace, but not long afterwards died in an epidemic. Izumi was plunged into grief, and the intensity of her poems echoes down the centuries:

Yearning for you
My heart has shattered
Into a thousand pieces
But never will one particle
Of my love be lost.

A third poet of note is Saigyo (1118-90), a wandering priest who was a forerunner of Basho. Born into the warrior class, he had a prestigious job as a bodyguard but dropped out to take orders at Shoji-ji in Katsura, south-west Kyoto. It was here he first wrote of cherry-blossoms, a topic for which he became famous.

They disturb the peace
The crowds of people who come
To view the blossom:
Who is there to blame except
The blossoming tree itself?

Later Saigyo left the capital to base himself at Mt Koya while wandering around Japan. He identified himself with the moon, whose passage across the sky mirrored his own solitary journeys. At the same time its ever-changing shape was a reminder of impermanence, and its ethereal beauty suggestive of life’s pathos. In one of his poems he movingly combined his two poetic passions by asking to die in cherry-blossom time under a full moon. According to tradition, he did.

Capturing the Past
Every year in April Kyoto shrines offer two wonderful chances to appreciate ‘Japanese songs’ in recreations of a Heian poetry contest. These Kyokusui no Utage (Winding–stream Parties) are held at Jonan-gu and Kamigamo Jinja, featuring elegant Heian-era robes Contestants sit by the banks of winding streams penning calligraphic verse to the sound of gagaku. Topics are set in advance, and sake cups placed in the water to float downstream. Completion of a verse means the writer can take a drink.

Here can be seen the salient traits of the Heian nobility. The beautiful clothing; the aesthetic care; the sensitivity to nature. And with the winning waka being performed in song amongst the spring blossoms, one catches a sense of what Tsurayuki meant by cementing harmony between man, kami and nature.

For a brief moment of time one has a sense of having stepped out of the concrete jungle and into a realm of elegance and elevating verse. As with Alice in Wonderland, you feel you’ve entered another dimension altogether, one where time slows down and the voice of nature can make itself heard. Try it and who knows: you may start writing waka too.

(The article is adapted from John Dougill’s book on Kyoto: A Cultural History).

A reenactment of Heian-era poetry contests at Hiraizumi in northern Japan

Snyder on Shugendo

May 27, 2015 / John D.

A Yamabushi (mountain ascetic) conducts a fire rite in which wooden prayer tablets are borne on the smoke up to heaven

In 1956 Gary Snyder came to Kyoto to study Zen. He stayed several years, wrote poems and kept a journal which sheds light on the city and its characters in those heady postwar times. One of the most interesting accounts he wrote was of his experiences with Mountain Asceticism, or Shugendo. A lengthy piece about it appeared in the Kyoto Journal, from which the extracts below are taken (with thanks to the KJ managing editor Ken Rodgers).

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In the first part, Snyder gives a general description of Shugendo, which includes this short historical overview:

The sixth-century En no Gyoja, alleged founder of Shugendo

It must have started as prehistoric mountain-spirit folk religion. The Yamabushi (“those who stay in the mountains”) are back country Shaman-Buddhists with strong Shinto connections, who make walking and climbing in deep mountain ranges a large part of their practice. The tradition was founded in the 7th or 8th centuries CE by En-no-Gyoja, “En the ascetic,” who was the son of a Shinto priest from Shikoku. The tradition is also known as Shugendo, “the way of hard practice.” The Yamabushi do not constitute a sect, but rather a society with special initiations and rites whose members may be lay or priest-hood, of any Buddhist sect, or also of Shinto affiliation. The main Buddhist affinity is with the Shingon sect, which is the Sino-Japanese version of Vajrayana, esoteric Buddhism, the Buddhism we often call “Tibetan.” My mountain friends told me that the Yamabushi have for centuries “borrowed” certain temples from the Shingon sect to use as temporary headquarters. In theory they own nothing and feel that the whole universe is their temple, the mountain ranges their worship halls and zendos, the mountain valleys their guest-rooms, and the great mountain peaks are each seen as boddhisattvas, allies, and teachers.

A yamabushi in typical clothing leads a hiking group into the Yoshino hills

The original Yamabushi were of folk origin, uneducated but highly spiritually motivated people. Shugendo is one of the few [quasi] Buddhist groups other than Zen that make praxis primary. Zen, with its virtual requirement of literacy and its upper class patrons, has had little crossover with the Yamabushi. The wandering Zen monk and the travelling Yamabushi are two common and essential figures in No dramas, appearing as bearers of plot and resolvers of karma. Both types have become Japanese folk figures, with the Yamabushi the more fearful for they have a reputation as sorcerers.

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The second part of the Kyoto Journal article consists of Snyder’s notes about a five-day Shugendo experience when he slept in the mountains and performed rituals like a yamabushi. This passage is taken from Day One:

Yoshino village of sakura-blooming hills, cherries planted by En-no-Gyoja (“ascetic” but it would work to translate it “mountaineer”) as offerings to Zao the Mountain King. In a sense the whole of Yoshino town stands as a butsudan / altar. So the thousands of cherry trees make a perennial vase of flowers — (and the electric lights of the village the candle?) — offerings to the mountain looming above. Here in the Zao Do is the large dark image, the mountain spirit presented in a human form, Zao Gongen — “King of the Womb Realm.” (“Manifestation (gongen) of the King (o) of the Womb (za).”

Zao Gongen, deity of Shugendo

I think he was seen in a flash of lightning, in a burst of mountain thunder, glimpsed in an instant by En the Mountaineer as he walked or was sitting. Gleaming black, Zao dances, one leg lifted, fierce-faced, hair on end. We four bow to this wild dancing energy, silently ask to be welcome, before entering the forest. Down at the end of the vast hall two new Yamabushi are being initiated in a lonely noon ceremony by the chief priest.

Zao is not found in India or China, nor is he part of an older Shinto mythology. He is no place else because this mountain range is the place. This mountain deity is always here, a shapeshifter who could appear in any form. En the Mountaineer happened to see but one of his possible incarnations. Where Fudo is an archetype, a single form which can be found in many places, Zao is always one place, holding thousands of shapes.

We adjust our packs and start up the road. Pass a small shrine and the Sakuramoto-bo — a hall to En the Mountaineer. Walk past another little hall to Kanki-ten, the seldom-seen deity of sexual pleasure. Climb onward past hillsides of cherry trees, now past bloom. (Saigyo, the monk-poet, by writing about them so much, gave these Yoshino cherry blossoms to the whole world.) The narrow road turns to trail, and we walk uphill til dusk. It steepens and follows a ridge-edge, fringe of conifers, to a run-down old koya — mountain hut — full of hiker trash. With our uptight Euro-American conservationist ethic we can’t keep ourselves from cleaning it up and so we work an hour and then camp in the yard. No place else level enough to lay a bag down.

I think of the old farmers who followed the mountain path, and their sacraments of Shamanist / Buddhist / Shinto style — gods and Buddha-figures of the entrance-way, little god of the kitchen fire, of the outhouse, gods of the bath house, the woodshed, the well. A procession of stations, of work-dharma-life. A sacramental world of homes and farms, protected and nourished by the high, remote, rainy, transcendent symbolic mountains.

Kimpusen-ji at Yoshino is the main Shugendo temple in Japan and houses a huge statue of Zao Gongen.

Hata pt 5 (Early Buddhism)

May 27, 2015 / John D.

Those of us who live in Kyoto are aware of two vital clans in the river basin’s early history – the Hata and the Kamo. They played a decisive role in the religious development of the area, and their legacy remains evident nearly 2000 years later.

Though there were other clans, the Hata and Kamo achieved preeminence and the shrines they founded are amongst the city’s best-known. The Hata are associated with Matsuoo Taisha and Fushimi Inari, the Kamo with the Kamigamo and Shimogamo Shrines. At some point the two clans appear to have intermarried and formed an alliance.

It was with interest therefore that I came across an article about the early developments in Kyoto entitled ‘Activity of the Aya and Hata in the Domain of the Sacred’, by Bruno Lewin (tr. Richard Payne with Ellen Rozett, Pacific World, New Series, No. 10, 1994).

Sacred rock at Matsuoo Taisha in Kyoto, which recalls the rock worship of Korea and the immigrant origins of the Hata clan who founded the shrine

The article starts by pointing out that immigrants lay behind the introduction and dissemination of Buddhism in Japan. This was exemplified above all by the powerful Soga clan, who were opposed by conservative aristocrats backing vested interests in their tutelary kami. It even led to war between them.

Amongst the incoming waves of immigrants the most powerful were the Hata, who may have arrived in two waves before and after the turn of the fourth century. Their continental origins are unclear, and though they arrived in Japan from Korea it is thought they had previously entered the peninsula from China (there’s been much speculation about their Silk Road ties, leading to fanciful talk of middle eastern origins and Jewish or early Christian beliefs).

It is possible the Hata moved through Tsushima into Kyushu, then along the Inland Sea to a landing area in the Kobe/Osaka vicinity, before settling in Yamashiro (present-day Kyoto). There these Buddhist-inclined immigrants were to have a surprisingly strong influence on the native kami tradition, as we see in the extract below. The evidence suggests close connections of the ‘unique’ Japanese faith with its continental cousins.

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(Extracted from ‘Activity of the Aya and Hata in the Domain of the Sacred’

From amongst the old kikajin, the Hata acquired a special position in the domain of the sacred. It is remarkable that the Hata found entrance into the national kami cult, that they established Shinto shrines and were active as Shinto priests.

It is hardly probable that the Hata took on foreign religious forms, but rather that the Japanese cult of ancestors and nature deities may have corresponded with their own ancient religious form, which along with their ancient conceptions of the sacred had been influenced by many centuries of living with the Korean peoples.

Osake Jinja in Kyoto may once have represented the Hata family shrine where its ancestral founder Hata no Kimi Sake was worshipped

In contrast to the other old kikajin, the Hata possessed larger ancestral shrines, which were probably located at all of their places of settlement. The Osake shrines in Yamashiro (Kadono district) and Harima (Akaho district) are well known, which were consecrated to the memory of Hata no Kimi Sake. Also, a few Hata shrines should be noted which are mentioned in the Engi Shiki, but which no longer exist.

All of the kikajin (immigrants) have a close connection with the introduction and dissemination of Buddhism in Japan. In the same way that Buddhism was brought to Japan via China and Korea, they came into the country, and there are numerous monks to be found among the Korean and Chinese immigrants who had made Japan their adopted country since the sixth century. But also, the oldest strata of immigrants, who had already been residing in Japan for a century and a half prior to the introduction of Buddhism, show a certain affinity to the new teaching.

It is well known that beginning in the second half of the sixth century the powerful Soga clan brought their influence to bear in support of Buddhism, against the opposition of the conservative, high aristocracy. In close contact with the Soga stood the Kura families of the Aya and Hata, who-under the supervision of the Soga were to administer state finances. This may have contributed to the oldest foreign aristocrats, who, being under the influence of the Soga, accepted the Buddhist teachings early on.

Hata no Kawakatsu, close advisor to Shotoku Taishi

The proof is found in some temple foundations which go back to the activity of the Kochi-no-Aya no Obito, the descendants of Wani, and of the Hata no Miyatsuko, the descendants of Yuzuki. [They founded] the Koryuji in Yamashiro. According to the Nihongi this temple was established in the year 603.’ In the Suiko-ki it is reported:

“The crown prince (Shotoku-taishi) spoke to all the dignitaries: “I have a statue of the Buddha who is worthy of worship. Who would like to receive this statue and devotedly venerate it?” – Then Hata no Miyatsuko Kawakatsu stepped forward and said: “I would like to venerate it.” Thus he received the Buddha statue and constructed the Hachiokadera for it.”

Hachiokadera is the original name of this temple, named for the settlement beside Uzumasa, the site of the main family. It was henceforth the house temple of the Hata, therefore it was also known as the Hata-no-kimi-dera. It is the oldest Buddhist temple in the district of today’s Kyoto.

In the year 818 the temple burned down for the first time. In the reports transmitted by the Nihon-kiryaku it is called Uzumasa-no-Kimi-dera, a sign that its ties with the name of the Hata lasted after its founding in Heian-kyo. Besides, on the temple grounds there is an Uzumasaden, in which Hata no Kawakatsu is venerated as the temple’s founder.

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For earlier articles on the Hata, see Part One (Overview), or Part Two on Hata Kawakatsu, or Part Three on the Silkworm Shrine (Kaiko no Yashiro), or Part Four on the Triangular Torii.

Koryu-ji, once known as Hata-dera, is Kyoto’s earliest Buddhist temple and was founded by the powerful Hata clan

For earlier parts in this series on the Hata clan, please check out the following links:
Part 1: an overview of the Hata clan
Part 2: Hata no Kawakatsu
Part 3 on the silkworn shrine
Part 4 on the triangular torii

Shimogoryo festival

May 24, 2015 / John D.

A hundred and fifty pairs of hands help the Shimogoryo mikoshi round the corner of Gosho (Former Imperial Palace). Notice the unusual-shaped bells attached to the beams.

This weekend sees the annual festival of Shimogoryo Shrine, just to the south of the Former Imperial Palace in Kyoto. It’s notable for having eight deified kami, known as the Hassho-goryo (eight angry spirits). Pacifying the spirits of those who died with a grudge was a particular concern of Heian times, with Sugawara no Michizane being the most well-known.

The Honden has a rather fine roof which originated in Gosho (Former Imperial Palace Grounds)

I dropped in at the shrine before the main events to take in some of the atmosphere, and got talking to a couple of parishioners in festive dress. One of them suggested that because people in the past were so preoccupied with angry spirits, they had deified enemies with particular zeal so as to avoid retribution. That explains why so many kami are from Izumo or exiled members of the imperial family.

One of the most striking aspects of the shrine is the discrepancy between its former imperial connections and its present run-down state. This is particularly evident in the contrast between the resplendent mikoshi and the sorry state of the roofs and peeling plasterwork. The parishioners told me that three billion yen was needed to repair the shrine as a whole, but that they had only been able to raise thirty million yen so far.

Normally the city authorities would subsidise the repairs, particularly when it involved an important cultural heritage site such as here, but Kyoto had so many more prestigious shrines to look after that a relatively small shrine like Shimogoryo did not rank high on its priorities. The burden fell on the parishioners, who struggled to cope with the burden. They talked enviously of Shimogamo Shrine’s recourse to building a high-class apartment block on its land.

But the main treasure of the shrine is its mikoshi. Two were on display, one of which weighs a ton and a half. It requires one hundred and fifty stalwarts to carry it around the parish, though there is only room for fifty to carry it at any one time. Two other teams of fifty are needed to stand by and take turns, because of the crushing weight.

Whereas in Kanto the mikoshi is raised straight up and down, in Kansai it was explained to me the mikoshi is raised alternately front and back like a seesaw. And in Shimogoryo’s case, uniquely, it causes a bell to ring – a pacifier no doubt for the angry spirits. As Donald Richie pointed out, the kami at festivals are like wilful babies that need to be jostled around and given constant attention.

The gorgeous mikoshi contrast with the run-down condition of the shrine.

The plaster work on the earthen walls had clearly seen better days.

The southern gate hardly presents an auspicious entrance to the shrine…

The roof on the subshrines is hardly a mark of respect, but the expense for the handicraft involved is considerable…

…. but why worry about the fabric of the buildings when you can have such compelling simplicity as this sacred sakaki branch festooned with paper ‘nakatori’.

Shinto’s greenness

May 18, 2015 / John D.

New greenery at Tadasu no mori, Shimogamo Shrine’s sacred grove. These abodes of the kami are held up as shining examples of Shinto’s greenness, but preserving a grove can go hand-in-hand with environmentally destructive policies elsewhere.

Michael Pye is an English academic who has worked at Marburg and Kyoto. He is on the committee of ISSA (International Shinto Studies Association) and has just published what looks like an interesting book on Japan’s Buddhist pilgrimages. On the academic.edu site, he has recently posted a revised version of a talk on the environment and Shinto he first gave in 1995 entitled Can Shinto think Green?

The conclusions Pye reaches are central to the concerns of Green Shinto, and the premises on which they are based will be of interest to the readers of this blog. Many Westerners are drawn to Shinto in the belief that as a nature religion it must be ‘green’, but within Japan such thinking seems simplistic. ‘In fact, Shintō, like most religions, has a somewhat ambivalent relationship to environmental matters,’ writes Pye.

What follows is a summarised account of the paper, and quotations are given with the permission of the author. (The full paper of ‘Can Shinto think Green?’ can be accessed here.)

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Can Shintō think Green? Introductory Remarks on Shintō, the Environment and Industry
by Michael Pye, Marburg.

Sacred waterfall at Matsuo Taisha. Shinto is particularist, and not all waterfalls are sacred…

One of the first issues Pye addresses is the orientation of Shinto in terms of ethics, and he notes the juxtaposition of ‘a religion of the Japanese people’ which ‘mainly promotes a national perspective’ as opposed to the universal nature of the environmental crisis. In terms of Shinto’s early development which grew out of its close relationship to nature, Pye asserts that it was ‘a question of the regulation and manipulation of natural forces, rather than of any kind of romantic love of nature.’ Moreover, as Green Shinto has noted on previous occasions, it is by no means evident that worship of particular items of sacralised nature leads to any significant change in environmental attitude or behaviour. The conservation of sacred trees for instance has gone hand in hand with the large-scale destruction of forests in south-east Asia .

In terms of moral values, Pye notes the emphasis on purity, sincerity and honesty. He notes too a contrast between the particularism of Shinto, whose concern is broadly limited to the frontiers of Japan, and the universalism of Buddhism. Given that water, air and sunshine are shared by humankind, Pye suggests that geographical restrictions are out of place in the face of a global crisis and that, while refraining from being seen to meddle in Japan’s affairs, ‘It is good to emphasize that progressive efforts for environmental protection would meet with world-wide recognition. That is always welcome.’

Pye then gives a concrete example of how change might be encouraged in Japan, which is worth quoting here at length:

Calling for a change of attitude is best done in conjunction with political and economic pressure. Specially targeted conferences and symposia are probably the most effective means of mounting influence from outside Japan, because they are often reported in the media. Responsible participation can be encouraged by the psychologically effective method of planning such symposia on the basis of mutual partnership and exchange.

International collaboration is one way of drawing Shinto into matters of universal concern.

A meeting on environmental questions in Germany, for example, could be complemented by a follow-up meeting to be held in Japan, and so envisaged in the planning stage. Moreover, funding is more likely to be forthcoming. Since the meeting in Japan then refers back to the previous meeting in Germany, it is able to have a much stronger effect on public opinion. For similar reasons, the participation and financial support of industry in both countries should be aimed at. Support in the form of subsidies only may lead into the blind alley of alibi-production, and would be analogous to the donations which flow from the major Japanese companies to the Shintō shrines. Such donations have above all an exorcising function and are supposed to ensure peace, safety and prosperity. It is therefore desirable to have direct representation from industry to industry, in the presence of other experts, ensuring that the environmental aspect remains on the agenda.

By way of conclusion, Pye considers whether Shinto representatives will be prepared to truly ‘go green’, or whether they will just use the word ‘nature’ as a feelgood factor to win popularity. In other words, will the Shinto establishment adopt ‘greenwashing’ as a tactic to project a sympathetic image? Noting that Shinto is an adapted primal religion, he states that throughout history it has undergone change reactively rather than proactively. If indeed it is to be truly a nature religion rather than a national religion, then it will probably need to be nudged in the right direction.

‘So, in the last analysis,’ Pye concludes, ‘there is a question to be posed. Are Shintō leaders prepared to think “green”? The question is urgent.’

Westerners sometimes have an idealised view of Shinto as a religion of nature worship, but Shinto in Japan often has concerns that are far removed from environmentalism.

Post-Aoi (Kamigamo)

May 16, 2015 / John D.

The inner torii in festive garb

Yesterday Kyoto’s Aoi Festival took place, and since I’ve seen the festival several times I thought I’d take a stroll this year around Kamigamo Shrine after the proceedings had ended. I was glad I did, for I found the shrine to be full of interest and activity, without the crowds that can make such occasions irksome. Though I only had my old iphone camera to hand, there was sufficient light left in the day for a few rough shots…

Attractive suzu bells were fixed to the top of the rope at the small enmusubi shrine. Notice the five colours on the banner representing the five elements.

A long queue at the Honden (Worship Hall), which unusually was open for worship since the kami is temporarily absent during the shikinen sengu cycle of renewal due to be completed later this year.

Sprigs of the aoi-katsura tree were on sale for ¥300 to fix at the entrance to homes as a protection against evil spirits and illness. At the bottom is a picture from a medieval scroll to show that this was ancient practice.

Even though the crowds had dispersed, the shrine office was still doing brisk business…

…. one of the most popular items were sheep omikuji fortune slips (this being the year of the sheep).

Afterwards the omikuji were tied up in an arrangement that with a bit of imagination can be seen to be a sheep.

In creative fashion, the omikuji were tied up in an arrangement that with a bit of imagination can be seen to be a sheep.

In fact, sheep seemed to be everywhere. This one, at the entrance to the compound, was carved by a chainsaw.

The shrine boasts a fine collection of newly printed ema. This heart-shaped one with a Heian-era court lady and short poem is for finding a good love relationship.

On the back of the love relation ema are two leaves of the shrine's emblematic plant known as Futaba Aoi.

On the back are the two leaves of the shrine’s emblematic plant known as Futaba Aoi. This person, who gives her name and address, asks to find a good connection to someone.

This ema shows the display of horse archery that is one of the pre-events for the Aoi Festival

Another of the ema shows the display of horse skills that is one of the pre-events for the Aoi Festival

Here is displayed a manifestation of the shrine’s kami, Wakeikazuchi no mikoto, a thunder deity

An example of the new-style privacy covering for people who don’t want others reading their love wishes. Unfortunately the innovation hasn’t been perfected yet for when it rains the covering strips off to reveal all…

On the way out I came across this curious monk who had wandered in to take a look at the shrine. His hat was covered in yellow tape, the ‘deerskin’ that shugendo ascetics wear on their backs was some kind of rug, and his wooden pole looked like an old broom handle. I asked him if he was a yamabushi (mountain ascetic) and rather brusquely he answered that he was Zen. The picture on his case by the way is of himself – perhaps it’s his way of reflecting on the ego.