Author: John D. (Page 90 of 202)

Purity (shamanic cleansing)

December 13, 2014 /

I was once shown round a shrine by a Shinto priest, who claimed the concern with cleanliness and purity was because the high humidity in Japan fostered disease and germs.  It struck me as a typical Japanese way of seeing things, as if the practice was somehow special to the country.   An alternative viewpoint would be to see the concern with cleanliness as integral to the wider shamanic concern with spiritual purity.

In this way Shinto is very much part of East Asian spirituality as a whole.  But whereas shamanism remains a living tradition in Korea and Siberia, Shinto is a fossilised form of shamanism that retains the form though the original intention has been lost.  Hence the simple waving of a purification stick (haraigushi) to signify cleansing, which in ancient times may have been carried out by a miko shamaness in tandem with otherworldly spirits.

The piece below about Spiritual Hygiene in Shamanic Healing illustrates what is meant in shamanic terms by impurity.  The article demonstrates that the goal of shamanism is restoring a pristine state, which is the essence of Shinto too.  Living in a material world means the inevitable accumulation of pollution, and wiping clean our spiritual self is akin to cleaning away the dust that accumulates.  When the soul is cleansed, the spirit is pure.

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The following piece is an abridged version of an article by Caitlin Matthews in the magazine Sacred Hoop, issue 86.

WHAT ARE INTRUSIONS?
Shamanically speaking, everything has power and spirit. Power and spirit are not ‘evil’ in themselves, they are neutral, but when they are in the wrong place, we experience this as an ‘evil.’ Take beetles, for example. While beetles are fine in the garden where they eat away diseased foliage, beetles in your bed or on your plate are another matter; I’m sure we would all agree.

Symbolic extraction of spiritual impurity through waving the stick over the body and disposing of 'the pollution' in a nearby stream

Throughout the world, there are clear boundaries about keeping things separate from each other: most cultures, for example, keep a strict barrier between the living and the dead, with people of a certain caste or skill-set there to attend to the deceased’s body. Similarly, when it comes to matters of psychic health and spiritual hygiene, shamans and medicine people have their own craft in separating what has become mixed and bringing clarity and integrity once again.

For most healers, spiritual cleanliness and clearing are akin to housework: we all need to do a little cleaning everyday so that our home environment stays healthy.  When spirit intrusions, residues, and miasmas are present in our souls, we can feel unclean, polluted or invaded.

So what is an intrusion? An intrusion can be anything in spirit form that enters, invades or clusters within its host. What do intrusions look like? How do we recognise them? The inheritance of dualistic faiths in our society can still fuel our paranoia, shaping intrusion in human imagination into many monstrous forms. Both the demons and homunculi of medieval times, as well as the resurrected Gothic horrors of the Romantic era, inform our cultural imagination, veering uneasily between the thought of suppressed psychological entities, or forms of uncleanly fears and fancies.

Intrusions can have the appearance of a host or swarm of colonisers, like the gatherings of dirt or residue that you find in a long-forgotten outbuilding where cobwebs and other detritus pile up.  An intrusion can also have humanoid forms: ancestral presences who are lost or astray, or who still hold undue influence over the host, or residues of abusive people still alive, whose lives have tangled with our own. Intrusions are rarely depicted, for good reason.

The sense of a ‘foreign body’ is often very clear to the host, who will report feeling a strange displacement that they can’t account for. They may also feel ‘overseen,’ stalked, or ‘uncomfortable’ in an undefined way, overshadowed or in the presence of something alien. Some people have even described this discomfort with a metaphor of indigestion, ‘it’s like I’ve eaten something bad, it just sits there, it doesn’t move, but it feels toxic.’

The nature of dirt of any kind is that it builds up and accumulates. The same kind of thing happens when we do not observe psychic hygiene in our own beings. When there is a gap or space in our power or soul, intrusion can build up there and become a more serious matter.

THE FORMATION OF ENTITIES
Because we live in a sanitised world of tidied-up order, our society has purged the imagination of the kinds of beings that our ancestors feared, beings that they called by a variety of names: demons, imps, incubi etc. Such names are not so helpful to us now because they make us demonise intrusions.

Opportunism is the name of the intrusions’ game. If we leave an opening, something may come in… we can easily see how the spirits of addictions come to fill up empty spaces in our lives… binge drinking, substance abuse or other kinds of behaviour can invite a spirit of intrusion to take up residence within us.

If you are practising your shamanic craft, then you can journey regularly to maintain the pathways of life clearly and keep your practice bright. Good missions to journey on include:  ‘What needs to be cleared away so that life can flow once again?’  ‘Reconnect me more strongly with the sources of power and inspiration.’  In this way, in the words of Gandhi:

Your beliefs become your thoughts
Your thoughts become your words
Your words become your actions
Your actions become your habits
Your habits become your values
Your values become your destiny.

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Caitlín Matthews is the author of ‘Singing the Soul Back Home,’ ‘The Psychic Protection Handbook’ and ‘Celtic Visions,’ and is currently at work on her study of the ancestors, ‘The Book of Ancestral Welcome.’ She has had a shamanic practice in Oxford for 25 years.  Click here for her website.

For more on the postshamanic nature of Shinto, see an earlier Green Shinto posting here.

Symbols of purity - young girl holding the purification stick (haraigushi)

Two tools of purification can be seen here, the sakaki branch being waved and in the background the purification stick

Miyazaki’s Shinto themes

December 11, 2014 /

Fig 1c - symbolic marker of an entrance into another realm

 

The Japanese director of animated films Hayao Miyazaki received an Honorary Award from the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences on Nov. 8 at a private dinner event. “My wife tells me I’m a very lucky man,” said Miyazaki, 73. “I was fortunate to be part of the final era where movies were made through the use of paper, pencil and film.”  It’s only the second time that a Japanese national has received such an award, the first being Akira Kurosawa in 1990.  By way of congratulations, Green Shinto is here reposting a paper by Par van Zoelen about the spiritual nature of Miyazaki’s movies.  For the original, please click here.  All illustrations courtesy of the author.

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Hayao Miyazaki: Recovery of Japanese Cultural Values
Par van Zoelen, Aurora – 13 December 2012

Hayao Miyazaki is arguably the best contemporary Japanese animator. Over the last 30 years he has developed a particular style, both aesthetically and through his work habits, that separates him from other animators. Miyazaki works without scripts, so his stories develop in the production stage of each movie. His films have recurrent themes such as ecology, opposition to war and state, and a recovery of old Japanese values in today’s context. These values are deeply rooted in Shinto and Buddhism. Miyazaki materializes ideas from these two life philosophies and adds his own personal experiences either in characters or in scenarios.

This essay revolves around four images: a 14th century Buddhist mandala, and three stills from the movies Princess Mononoke (1997), My neighbor Totoro (1988) and Spirited Away (2001). The characters in Miyazaki’s movies interact with kami (gods or spirits) because they are placed in sacred sites or areas that facilitate this contact. In Princess Mononoke it is the mountain, in My Neighbor Totoro, a tree and in Spirited Away, a kami bathhouse. Miyazaki employs fundamental Shinto symbols in his movies in order to retrieve Japan’s cultural heritage in today’s context.

The spiritually charged world of Princess Mononoke

Shinto predates historical records. It is Japan’s native belief system, which consists of honoring nature and kami, purification rituals and continuity between the deific and profane space within the world. Traditionally, Shinto was an oral transmitted religion whose fundamental teaching was to respect all living things. It is devoid of scriptures and its rituals have changed over time.

In history, Shinto has been supported and suppressed by the standing government but without success to either eradicate it or elevate it as the only religion in Japan. It has however, survived into the 21st century. Buddhism was introduced around the sixth century and has too become a predominant ideology in Japan’s belief system. Moreover the two religions have adopted ideas from each other:

“Buddhist figures adopted complementary Shinto identities and Shinto kami were thought to strive toward Buddhist enlightenment. […] It was not until the arrival and influence of Buddhism, with its long tradition[al] of producing anthropomorphic representations of Buddhist deities, that statues and paintings of Shinto divinities started to be produced, around the eighth century.”[1]

By complementing each other, these religions have been able to appeal to a larger population. Moreover, Shinto gained the ability to communicate its ideas through new forms of representation and specific symbols.

The definition of sacred space in Japanese religions is very important. One can interact with kami and other spirits in areas or with objects that serve as mediums for this communication. A ‘sacred site’ is “a well-structured, clearly delimited space seen as the actual residence of a divinity. The sacred site is the oldest form of sacred space in Japan, which we find emerging out of the early myths and Shinto rituals.”[2]

Fig. 1 - Kasuga Deer Mandala

From the interaction between Shinto and Buddhism appeared the idea of a ‘sacred area’, which consists of the territory travelled by pilgrims into the mountain. A sacred site is a specific site or object where a kami was thought to have materialized whereas the sacred area is a larger space, for example a mountain, which has to do with the divine. The mandala, a traditional representation of the residence of the Buddha, is a projection of the sacred area. It depicts symbols of the journey and the aim of the pilgrim.

Although the mandala comes from a Buddhist tradition, the imagery of Fig 1 is heavily influenced by symbols of Shinto. For instance, nature is the overpowering symbol. In relation to the five Buddha depicted, the deer, the mountain and the tree appear much larger. The Kasuga Deer Mandala is read vertically from the bottom to the top. One starts at the bottom center of the image passing through the torii, a Shinto symbol and architectural piece that delineates the space between the profane and the sacred. This symbol indicates that one changes from the realm of men to the realm of the gods. It then continues in vertical ascent to the deer, a sacred animal and the tree on its saddle, also a sacred symbol. The golden circle symbolized either the sun or the moon, depending on the interpretation, and the five Buddha within are representations of five shrines. Lastly, at the very top are the mountains, mysterious areas where humans could become in contact with the divine.

The vertical reading of the image is evocative of the Japanese family system ‘ie’, where unborn members of the family are represented at the bottom and ancestors at the top with the living in the middle in the realm of men. To enter either category, one must pass through a threshold much like when a pilgrim passes through a torii to enter the foreign land of the mountain. Miyazaki uses Shinto symbols as the torii in his movie Spirited Away (2001). At the beginning of the film the characters pass by an old torii (Fig 1c) that is indicative of an entrance into a sacred site. It is the delineation between the mundane and a space where the characters will interact with kami.

The early attitudes towards mountains as sacred spaces have to do with the geographical location of humans. People lived and worked in plains while mountains were “untouched and were areas of non activity. Corpses were abandoned or buried on mountains; hence the mountain was seen as a space whose nature was Other (not belonging to common categories of experience within the profane).”[3]

Figure 2 is a still from the movie Princess Mononoke, a historical epic set in the Muromachi period (1333-1568) the same period as the Kasuga Deer Mandala. This time period is the threshold between rural Japan and the beginnings of urbanization. It is the time when gods and human were at war for the possession of nature and humans entered and destroyed the realm of gods. The first function of Figure 2 is to depict the Japanese mountainous landscape and how forests overwhelm these areas. The trees in the foreground are later lost in perspective to the receding mountains but one can assume that they are as occupied by nature as the plants depicted in the forefront. It is important to note the lack of any source of artificial light. Only the moon illuminates the picture. Both of these elements support the impression of a natural world yet untouched by urbanization.

Fig. 2 - the giant from Princess Mononoke

In this night still, Miyazaki visualizes a daidarabotchi -a legend of a giant, who creates lakes with his footsteps-. Miyazaki attributes life and death to this forest god, who during the day is transforms into a shishigami (fig 2b). In daylight it embodies the shape of a deer with a traditional Japanese mask for a face that moves within a closed-off space within the mountain. At night, it changes into to the giant Night Walker, as tall as the mountains. He is of another nature as is the space around him; he is a spirit, a god, and a mountain.

The depiction of the daidarabotchi illustrates the earlier ideas of Shinto that mountain were sacred spaces, which gods took as residences. Miyazaki expands this view and implies that the gods in the mountains can affect directly the life and death of the immediate surroundings. During the film, a gun (a man-made tool) severs the forest god’s head and all nature around him dies too. The principal characters have to then reunite the god with its head in order to appease the destruction. It’s clear that Miyazaki is providing a commentary on the importance to respect nature.

Fig 3 - My Neighbor Totoro

 

Miyazaki’s films display the rich cultural heritage of Japanese religions and belief systems. The film My Neighbor Totoro takes place in a rural setting, where superstitions regarding kami are still common in today’s Japan. The movie revolves around the adventures that two small girls share with the spirit of a tree. At the beginning of the movie the father talks to them about the great tree that overshadows their house. He tells the girls that “It’s been around since long ago, back in the time when trees and people used to be friends.”[4] This dialogue is reminiscent of the fundamental principle of Shinto belief: to respect all living things.

­In Figure 3, the characters are paying their respects to the spirit of the tree and asking him to look after them. As in the Kasuga Deer Mandala the representation of nature, in this case the tree, outsizes the representation of people. Another symbol from Shinto employed in this image is the rope with white paper zigzags around the tree. The rope or “Shimenawa […] is a Shinto device for marking off the sacred from the secular.”[5] Moreover, “in the mythological age, a sacred site surrounded by trees was set aside as a place to invoke the kami for worship. These sacred groves themselves were shrines. The primitive Japanese believed that they could invoke kami within the trees, so they fixed pieces of cloth and paper, called shide, on the trees to guide the kami.”[6]

Scene from Totoro

 

The interaction that the characters have with the forest kami Totoro revolves around this tree. In the movie, it serves as his dwelling to which the two girls are allowed to enter because of their pure nature. In Shinto an individual must have kokoro, a condition where the individual demonstrates a pure heart and mind, in order to interact with kami.[7]

Fig 4 - Spirited Away

In his film Spirited Away Miyazaki indicates that the younger generation (of Japanese children) are not aware of their cultural heritage. The character of Chihiro is inspired in the daughter of a friend. He was interested in this age group because “girls like her see films that contain characters their age, but they can’t identify with them, because they are imaginary characters that don’t resemble them at all.”[8]

Chihiro is an ordinary girl that becomes a capable person by surpassing the challenges she encounters in the world of the kami. Spirited Away is one of the heaviest religion-loaded movies from Miyazaki. He incorporated many of the precepts and symbols from Shinto and Buddhism.

Figure 4 depicts the end of Chihiro’s journey. She is holding hands with the river spirit that has helped her throughout the movie. She is looking forward into the green field and to the continuation of her own journey, her life, with the teachings and experiences that she had throughout the movie. The frog statue is reminiscent of statues in the entrances of shrines or statues placed by roads to assure the traveler that he is safe. In the background Miyazaki includes the mountains, to remind that the setting is Japan. Oddly enough there is only one house in the expanse shown, a house part of the world of the kami, everything else is devoid of architecture, alluding to nature.

Fig 4b - the bathhouse in Spirited Away

Spirited Away depicts another important idea from Shinto. Shinto states that all living things and natural phenomena, like a tree, a person or a river are inherently pure but can become contaminated. The movie’s setting is a bathhouse (Figure 4b) to purify gods and spirits so they can again do good to the world and humans. A challenge that Chihiro overpasses is cleaning a ‘stink god’ that turns out to be a polluted river. This segment of the movie comes from a personal experience of Miyazaki. A river near his house was excessively polluted and when they decided to clean it up a bicycle and other waste was removed.

Hayao Miyazaki illustrates the precepts of Shinto and Buddhism in his films in order to re-appropriate their values in today’s context. He makes direct links to Japan’s history in plotlines like Princess Mononoke’s and incorporates religious symbols and imagery in movies as My Neighbor Totoro and Spirited Away. To his Japanese audience, he is reminding them of their rich cultural heritage while to foreigners he is transmitting meaningful universal values. Shinto originated even before Japanese writing was created and yet it has survived to the 21st century where capitalism is an antagonist to its teachings. The ideas of respect towards all living things are especially significant in the context of a post-war Japan and to create a new national identity, which its people may be proud of. Hayao Miyazaki recalls Shinto’s long-lasting ideas so that they can be exercised in a contemporary setting.

[1] Elizabeth Hammer, “Shinto: A Japanese Religion.” Asia Society. http://asiasociety.org/countries/religions-philosophies/shinto. [Accessed 26 November 2012].
[2] Allan G. Grapard, “Flying Mountains and Walkers of Emptiness: Towards a Definition of Sacred Space in Japanese Religions.” History of Religions, Vol. 21, No. 3 (Feb., 1982): 196.
[3] Allan G. Grapard, “Flying Mountains and Walkers of Emptiness: Towards a Definition of Sacred Space in Japanese Religions.” History of Religions, Vol. 21, No. 3 (Feb., 1982): 200.
[4] Hayao Miyazaki, My Neighbor Totoro. Internet. Directed by Hayao Miyazaki. Japan:Studio Ghibli, 1988.
[5] Editorial Staff, “Shinto Symbols (Continued)” Contemporary Religions in Japan, Vol. 7, No. 2 (Jun., 1966): 100.
[6] Ibid, 94.
[7] Boyd, James W. and Tetsuya Nishimura. “Shinto Perspectives in Miyazaki’s Anime Film “Spirited Away”.” The Journal of Religion and Film, Vol. 8, No. 2 (October 2004): 3.
[8] Tom Mes. “Interviews: Hayao Miyazaki.” Midnight Eye: Visions of Japanese Cinema. http://www.midnighteye.com/interviews/hayao-miyazaki/. Accessed 4 December 2012.

Cold water (Misogi)

December 9, 2014 /

Once a year at the summer solstice participants prepare to enter the sea for sunrise misogi at the Ise Meoto Rocks

 

The Shinto tradition of misogi (cold water immersion) is one shared with many cultures around the world.  Nowhere is this more evident than in India, where Hindus believe the river Ganges is sacred and that bathing in the river will wash away sins and facilitate liberation from the cycle  of suffering.

One form of asceticism in Japan is to stand under a waterfall, deadly cold in winter, while reciting prayer.  Another is to immerse oneself in the sea or a river.  Shinto has a set form for how to do this, which is part of the training for priests though only a small percentage practise it on a regular basis and even fewer ordinary followers.  For most a cold shower is sufficient.  At my gym I regularly find that after bathing, the person before me has finished off his ablutions with a burst of cold water.  Health studies have shown that this has very real benefits, as described in the article below.

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5 reasons why you should take cold showers
Katherine Martinko on treehugger.com

Places for cold water austerity are marked off as sacred

Have you ever taken a cold shower – a really cold shower? Then you’ll know that bracing sensation as the icy cold water comes pouring out of the showerhead onto your just-warm, now-frozen skin. You gasp, and perhaps scream, as you become number by the second. Although the shock dissipates, the pain never really goes away until you step out and grab the nearest towel. In the following moments, however, you suddenly realize it was totally worth it. By now you’re feeling the greatest adrenaline rush. Your skin is tingling, you’re wide awake, and you’re realizing, I just did it!

Cold showers have played an important role in many cultures for various reasons. From the Spartans, ancient Greeks, and Romans, to Native American tribes, Japanese Shinto practitioners, and the Scandinavians, cold water plunges have long been part of traditional rituals. They are used to build psychological strength, to cleanse the spirit, to improve health, and to make you feel awesome… once you’re out, of course.

Our comfort-obsessed modern culture has largely forgotten – or chooses to overlook – the benefits of cold water, but perhaps it needs to make a comeback, not least of all because it forces you to conserve water (you won’t want to linger so long) and reduce the heating bill. But there other reasons why taking a daily cold shower – or doing a ‘polar dip’ in a cold lake – is a very good idea.

1. It improves blood circulation.
A cold shower increases the rate of blood flow through the body, pumping more to your organs. This is beneficial to the cardiovascular system and can help with blood pressure, hardening of the arteries, and varicose veins. Increased blood flow to the brain helps it to function optimally and leaves you feeling more alert for a longer period of time.

2. Cold water is an anti-depressant.
The adrenaline rush and that wonderfully giddy sensation that you get post-plunge come from the tremendous amount of electrical impulses sent from the peripheral nerve endings to the brain, which has an anti-depressive effect.

Christian Grubl of the Austrian shugendo association practises misogi

A 2008 study called “Adapted cold shower as a potential treatment for depression,” published in Medical Hypotheses, presents the interesting hypothesis that depression may be caused by “a lifestyle that lacks certain physiological stressors that have been experienced by primates through millions of years of evolution, such as brief changes in body temperature (e.g. cold swim), and lack of ‘thermal exercise’ may cause inadequate functioning of the brain.”

The evidence seems to support the hypothesis. Exposure to cold activates the sympathetic nervous system and increases the release of noradrenaline, a chemical that mitigates depression. Practical application showed cold hydrotherapy to relieve depressive symptoms effectively.

3. Cold water is good for your skin and hair.
There’s a reason why you often hear that you should rinse freshly washed hair with cold water in order to reduce frizz and improve shine. Hot water tends to dry out skin and hair, whereas cold water leaves it feeling firm, taut, and less wrinkly. For long-term toning, splash a mixture of cold water and fresh lemon juice onto your face for a refreshing rinse.

4. Cold water can improve athletic performance.
One recent study published in the American Journal of Physiology found that athletes who use cold water immersion after resistance training are able to complete more work during subsequent training sessions, “which could enhance long-term training adaptations.”

Another study in the Journal of Sports Science and Medicine found that cold water immersion improves recovery following exercise, and should be administered as soon as possible post-exercise.

5. Cold water builds mental strength.
You’ve got to admit, it takes a certain degree of courage and mental preparation to turn off the hot water. The more you subject your body to stressors, the more easily it can adapt to future stressors. In other words, you can toughen yourself up by getting used to daily cold showers or dips – and that’s a good thing.

Emerging from the sea, purified by the cold salt water

Renewed and invigorated, with significant health benefits such as boosting the immune system

The Phoenix

December 7, 2014 /

Close-up of a phoenix atop a mikoshi

 

On top of the Japanese mikoshi (portable palanquin) there usually sits a hō-ō, or phoenix.  It’s a significant feature, since in the container below sits Shinto’s most sacred object, the spirit-body of the shrine kami.  Why should there be a bird perched on top?  The obvious answer is because it represents flight to another world, an intermediary between earth and heaven as it were.  But why a phoenix, of all birds?  Those of us in the West are used to thinking of the bird as a symbol of rising from the ashes, but what does it have to do with Shinto?  In the article below, taken from the ancient origins website, Liz Leafloor looks at the symbolism of the imaginary bird, which captivated the Indo-European world and spread to Japan through the influence of China.

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Ancient Symbolism of the Magical Phoenix
By Liz Leafloor 29 AUGUST, 2014

The symbolism of the Phoenix, like the mystical bird itself, dies and is reborn across cultures throughout time. Ancient legend paints a picture of a magical bird, radiant and shimmering, which lives for several hundred years before it dies by bursting into flames. It is then reborn from the ashes, to start a new, long life. So powerful is the symbolism that it is a motif and image that is still used commonly today in popular culture and folklore.

Phoenix carried on a pole at the Yasui Konpira-gu festival in Kyoto

The legendary phoenix is a large, grand bird, much like an eagle or peacock. It is brilliantly coloured in reds, purples, and yellows, as it is associated with the rising sun and fire. Sometimes a nimbus will surround it, illuminating it in the sky. Its eyes are blue and shine like sapphires. It builds its own funeral pyre or nest, and ignites it with a single clap of its wings. After death it rises gloriously from the ashes and flies away.

The phoenix symbolizes renewal and resurrection, and represents many themes, such as “the sun, time, the empire, metempsychosis, consecration, resurrection, life in the heavenly Paradise, Christ, Mary, virginity, the exceptional man”.

Tina Garnet writes in The Phoenix in Egyptian, Arab, & Greek Mythology of the long-lived bird, “When it feels its end approaching, it builds a nest with the finest aromatic woods, sets it on fire, and is consumed by the flames. From the pile of ashes, a new Phoenix arises, young and powerful. It then embalms the ashes of its predecessor in an egg of myrrh, and flies to the city of the Sun, Heliopolis, where it deposits the egg on the altar of the Sun God.”
There are lesser known versions of the myth in which the phoenix dies and simply decomposes before rebirth.

The Greeks named it the Phoenix but it is associated with the Egyptian Bennu, the Native American Thunderbird, the Russian Firebird, the Chinese Fèng Huáng, and the Japanese Hō-ō.

It is believed that the Greeks called the Canaanites the Phoenikes or Phoenicians, which may derive from the Greek word ‘Phoenix’, meaning crimson or purple. Indeed, the symbology of the Phoenix is also closely tied with the Phoenicians.

Perhaps the earliest instance of the legend, the Egyptians told of the Bennu, a heron bird that is part of their creation myth. The Bennu lived atop ben-ben stones or obelisks and was worshipped alongside Osiris and Ra. Bennu was seen as an avatar of Osiris, a living symbol of the deity. The solar bird appears on ancient amulets as a symbol of rebirth and immortality, and it was associated with the period of flooding of the Nile, bringing new wealth and fertility.

Greek historian Herodotus wrote that priests of ancient Heliopolis described the bird as living for 500 years before building and lighting its own funeral pyre. The offspring of the birds would then fly from the ashes, and carry priests to the temple altar in Heliopolis. In ancient Greece it was said the bird does not eat fruit, but frankincense and aromatic gums. It also collects cinnamon and myrrh for its nest in preparation for its fiery death.

An artistic phoenix attached to the top of a mikoshi

In Asia the phoenix reigns over all the birds, and is the symbol of the Chinese Empress and feminine grace, as well as the sun and the south. The sighting of the phoenix is a good sign that a wise leader has ascended to the throne and a new era has begun. It was representative of Chinese virtues: goodness, duty, propriety, kindness and reliability. Palaces and temples are guarded by ceramic protective beasts, all lead by the phoenix.

The mythical phoenix has been incorporated into many religions, signifying eternal life, destruction, creation and fresh beginnings.  Due to the themes of death and resurrection, it was adopted as a symbol in early Christianity as an analogy of Christ. The image became a popular symbol on early Christian tombstones. It is also symbolic of a cosmic fire some believe created the world and which will consume it.

In Jewish legend the phoenix is known as the Milcham – a faithful and immortal bird. Going back to Eden, when Eve possessed the apple of knowledge, she tempted the animals of the garden with the forbidden fruit. The Milcham bird refused the offer, and was granted for its faith a town where it would live in peace almost eternally, rebirthing every thousand years, immune to the Angel of Death.

The Phoenix is also an alchemical symbol.  It represents the changes during chemical reactions and progression through colors, properties of matter, and has to do with the steps of alchemy in the making of the Great Work, or the Philosopher’s Stone.

Modern additions to the myth in popular culture say the tears of the phoenix have great healing powers, and if the phoenix is near one cannot tell a lie. Continually morphing and remorphing, the phoenix represents the idea that the end is only the beginning. Much like this powerful myth, the symbol of the phoenix will be reborn over and over again in human legend and imagination.

Mikoshi with phoenix on top in the annual matsuri procession at Hakone Jinja

Kojiki exhibition

December 4, 2014 /

Michael Lambe and fiancée Miu, eager visitors to the Kojiki exhibition currently showing at the Nara Prefectural Museum

 

Green Shinto is delighted to host a piece by Deep Kyoto blogger, Michael Lambe, about the current major exhibition at the Nara Prefectural Museum of Art.  (The exhibition is on until December 14th.) To learn more about Michael’s blog, please see (http://www.deepkyoto.com/).  All photos provided by Michael Lambe (artwork from unknown sources).

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The Grand Kojiki Exhibition at Nara Prefectural Museum of Art
by Michael Lambe

On a cold, wet Sunday in early November, my fiancée Miu and I went down to Nara and took in the Kojiki exhibition now on at Nara Prefectural Museum of Art. The rain was coming down in sheets when we arrived, so it was perfect museum weather!

Nara Prefectural Museum of Art, not far from the Deer Park

The Kojiki or Record of Ancient Matters is a collection of myths detailing the creation of the Japanese archipelago, along with stories of the first Gods, heroes and emperors. Compiled in 712 it is the oldest book in Japanese. It is also notoriously difficult to read, even in translation. The exhibition’s own stated aim is to overcome this difficulty and help the visitor to look beyond the text’s ancient language and obscure cosmological convictions, to the lives and emotions of the people from whose culture these legends sprang. To do this they have gathered art and archaeological materials from city museums and private locations across Japan that provide a thoroughly immersive Kojiki experience. The result is a comprehensive overview of this book’s place in Japan’s cultural history. We spent a good afternoon at the exhibition learning that the text of the Kojiki, and its mythological contents, have been not only a rich source of creative inspiration, but also historically of propaganda and political influence. In both regards it is a fascinating story!

The exhibition is divided into six parts and these are as follows:

Prologue – Statues of the early Gods

I. The Story Woven by Ancient People – Art works depicting Kojiki tales.

II. 1300 Year Old Kojiki – The history of the book.

III. Items Illustrated in Kojiki – Archaeological artifacts and replicas.

IV. Kojiki Still Alive Today – Shrine treasures and traditions associated with the Kojiki.

V. The Story to Pass on to the Future – Modern art works inspired by the Kojiki.

Of these the Parts I and II struck me as being of most interest, so that is where I shall focus most of my attention.

Prologue

O-no-Yasumaro, compiler of the Kojiki

A short section this, but it sets the mood. First we encounter a Muromachi era statue of Ō-no-Yasumaro the compiler of the book. The historical Ō-no-Yasumaro had the unenviable task of weaving several competing clan narratives and traditions into one coherent text that would support the rule of the dominant imperial line. His face as depicted is unusually detailed for a sculpture of that era and it has an appropriately determined look about it.

In the room beyond the compiler we encounter the Gods. A light projection of the text scrolls around the walls, and among various deities we find simple wooden Heian era statues of the first creator Gods: Izanagi-no-Mikoto (the principal male deity) and Izanami-no-Mikoto (the principal female). These are the gods, who with the aid of a heavenly jeweled spear, stirred creation out of primary chaos. Wonderfully preserved, the statues are seated and gaze at us impassively across a thousand years.

Part I. The Story Woven by Ancient People
Part I is more colourful. Essentially it is a gathering of art works inspired by some of the key episodes and stories depicted in the Kojiki: of how the Gods made the world and then their descendant emperors carved out a nation. This collection is further sub-divided by three themes:

1. Initiation
2. Journey
3. Affection

The first section, Initiation, explores the beginnings of the Japanese mythological cycle, and also the interweaving of legend and ancient ritual. One of the key tales illustrated in this section is that of the sun goddess, Amaterasu Ōmikami and the heavenly rock cave. Terrified by the violent rages of her brother, Susanoo-no-Mikoto, the god of wind and storms, Amaterasu hid herself away in Ama-no-Iwato, the heavenly rock cave, thus depriving the world of light.

Uzume's dance, as depicted in 'Ball Pen Kojiki'

Plunged into unending night, a myriad deities gathered at the rock cave, and hoping to conjure the sun back into the world they gathered many items of ritual significance, among them a bronze mirror, magatama beads, and branches of sakaki. As if to encourage the dawn, cocks were made to crow at the cave entrance. But finally it was the goddess of dance, Uzume, whose lewd striptease brought Amaterasu back out.

Dancing wildly and exposing her breasts and genitalia to the assembled deities, Uzume made them laugh so much, that Amaterasu wondered at their hilarity. Unable to restrain her curiosity she peeped out from her shelter. Immediately, Tajikawaro, a deity of immense strength, pulled the sun goddess out and with a great rock blocked the entrance behind her. The sun and light were restored to the world and all the deities rejoiced.

In Uzume’s dance we can perhaps see an echo of ancient rites that associated dance and fertility with the return of light and heat both with the dawn and with spring. The primal energy of the dance is very well represented by a manga style drawing we will see later in the exhibition, by Kōno Fumiyo.

The work that dominates this section though, is a massive Italian style fresco by Kinutani Kōji. Amaterasu, who as sun goddess, is first among the gods in heaven, is also according to myth, the direct ancestor of the Japanese Imperial line. Here she is depicted emerging from the rock cave in a radiant surge of primary colours. On her person she already bears the three imperial regalia of mirror, sword and magatama beads, but her face is lit by a warm and gentle smile.

Ama-no-Iwato, At the Dawn by Kinutani Koji, 2012

 

In the following sections Journey and Affection, we learn to view travel and love through the lens of an ancient world view. Travel in the Kojiki is never undertaken lightly but always for a serious and specific purpose. And in a world strictly divided by gender roles, only men travel. Women are encountered on the way and offer assistance to the wandering gods and heroes. Sometimes the protagonists will fall in love, but again love in the Kojiki, is something wild and free and beset by doubt, jealousy and  betrayal.

Konohanasakuya-hime by Domoto Insho, 1929

Another giant mural by Kinutani Kōji introduces us to the character of Ninigi-no-Mikoto, grandson of Amaterasu, as he descends to earth to teach the world the art of rice-planting. We are told he arrived on a beach in Kyushu and there met and fell in love with the blossom princess, Konohanasakuya-hime. Dōmoto Inshō’s nihon-ga depiction of the flower princess surrounded by cherry blossoms is one of the loveliest paintings in the exhibition. She seems to represent an ideal of Japanese feminine beauty

We are told that Konohana’s father, a mountain deity, wished for Ninigi to marry his other daughter Iwa-naga, a rock princess. Ninigi, however, had his heart set on Konohana, and refused the other daughter… and so now human lives pass swiftly like the cherry blossom and do not endure like rock. The union of Konohana the flower princess and a male from the lineage of the sun also has another more political significance, for their descendant Jimmu, will be the first emperor of the Yamato clan.

Meanwhile, however, Susanoo-no-Mikoto, storm god of mayhem and mischief, having being exiled from heaven for his crimes against Amaterasu, is busy establishing his own rival lineage.

Yamata-no-orochi-Taiji: a three dimensional cut-out print of Susanoo slaying the eight-headed serpent by Utagawa Toyohisa, Edo Period

Descending to earth in Izumo province Susanoo encountered an old couple weeping bitterly. They told him that an eight-headed serpent had come each year for seven years to devour seven of their daughters, and now only their eighth daughter was left. Susanoo offered to save the daughter in return for her hand in marriage, and the old couple readily agreed. The storm god then defeated the monster with his characteristic combination of ferocity and cunning. Having tricked the beast into a drunken stupor by preparing eight barrels of saké, he proceeded to cut it to pieces. Susanoo then married the eighth daughter and established his own Izumo clan lineage. What is curious about this story is Susanoo’s own sudden transformation from a rebellious troublemaker into a hero overcoming the forces of chaos. This seeming contradiction in his character may well reflect the fact that the Kojiki was compiled from many sources and clan traditions. Perhaps here we can see the rival legends of the Izumo clan being forced to play a part in a wider narrative written to serve the imperial Yamato line.

Part II. 1300 Year Old Kojiki

In Part II of the exhibition we explore the history of the text itself. The Kojiki is of course an invaluable record of early Japanese folklore, tradition and spiritual belief and as we have seen in the previous section a great source of creative inspiration. However, it is also a political text with a long and complex relationship with this nation’s historical sense of itself. A timeline on one wall supported by examples and replicas of books from various eras gives a good overview of the Kojiki’s checkered past. In 712 when the book was complied, its primary purpose was to justify the rule of the dominant imperial lineage. It subsequently fell out of favour in the Heian era, and for a long time the Nihon Shoki was more popular. However when the Nativist scholar Motoori Norinaga raised the Kojiki back out of obscurity in the 18th century, it was again for political purposes, in support of a nationalist and imperialist agenda.

The ideology espoused by Norinaga encouraged the Restorationists of the 19th century, and from the Meiji era onwards the Kojiki was used as a propaganda tool in state sponsored Shinto. As a result, this book, Japan’s oldest, came to be deeply associated with the militarism that ultimately led to the catastrophe of World War 2. Naturally it then fell out of favour again in post-war years, but since the 1300 year anniversary of the book’s completion in 2012 it has again been enjoying a boom in popularity. It is still important though to approach this book with care, and with an awareness that though there is much of value contained within its pages, the history of the book itself is one fraught with controversy. I am happy to say that the exhibition in Nara does not shy away from exploring this.

Self portrait by Motoori Norinaga in 1773

In this history of the book, 18th century scholar Motoori Norinaga plays a central role for without his championing of the Kojiki we would probably not be discussing it today. However, his motivations were decidedly problematic. Norinaga sought to promote the superiority of Japanese culture by raising the significance of the native Shinto religion and for his purposes the myths of the Kojiki were of vital importance. Unfortunately like many ardent nationalists, Norinaga felt a deep loathing for foreign cultures particularly Chinese culture. A poem he wrote to accompany his self-portrait at the age of 44 exemplifies this attitude.

Norinaga wrote,

「めつらしきこまもろこしの花よりもあかぬいろ香は桜なりけり」

More than any rare or foreign flower, it is after all only cherry blossom that never tires me.

This tying of Shinto beliefs and Kojiki tales to a nationalist and anti-foreign agenda was pernicious. Viewing the picture above and also 19th century children’s editions of the Kojiki, which were specially abridged to indoctrinate youth with love of country and martial pride, I could not help think of modern day nationalists like Shinzo Abe.  Similarly they preach love of country and call for a strong military with a reckless inattention to the darker lessons of history.

I was pleased though by a video display here, a 3D animation revealing both the similarities and differences between myths around the world. Before a rapt audience, golden representations of Izanagi and Izanami appeared and faded into Adam and Eve, and Susanoo and the eight headed serpent faded into Perseus and Medusa… Despite the efforts of those in the past to use these myths as a bulwark against foreign influences, the organizers of this exhibition had both acknowledged those mistakes and sought to make connections.

Part III. Items Illustrated in Kojiki

In Part III we step deeper into the ancient past with archaeological finds and replicas that help us better imagine and understand the culture that created the Kojiki. Here are many items we might see described in the Kojiki: weapons, accessories, vessels, and musical instruments.  Pre-eminent are the three traditional ritual regalia of the Yamato emperors: the mirror, sword and magatama beads that Ninigi-no-Mikoto received from Amaterasu  Ōmikami when he descended to earth. I was particularly impressed by a shining 6th century sword from the Kofun period in remarkably good condition. 5th century Haniwa clay representations of a house and of a boy playing a harp were also fascinating.

Parts IV and V – The Kojiki Today

The rest of the exhibition shows how the Kojiki is still very much a part of modern Japanese culture both in its pop and traditional incarnations. Manga comics, like Kōno Fumiyo’s Ball Pen Kojiki, do an excellent job of expressing the motion and energy of the original tales. And the sacred dance of Uzume has a living continuity in the traditional dances of Kagura and Noh theater. Looking at the Noh and Kagura masks on display is indeed an encounter with the gods.

A final section is devoted to three very modern artworks commissioned especially for this occasion. In Game Center Amaterasu for example participants must dance in step with Uzume to lure the sun goddess from her heavenly rock. I confess I was largely unimpressed by these final works, but one thing did amuse me. One of the commissioned artists had littered the floor with globes representing the Earth which rolled around emitting mysterious voices.  A little boy of about 9 years old, thoroughly dissatisfied with the entertainment on offer, decided to kick them like footballs with increasing savagery until one of the globes fell apart. I couldn’t help laughing. After all it seems, the rebellious and irreverent spirit of Susanoo is alive and well!

Those unfortunate globes

 

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The Grand Kojiki Exhibition at Nara Prefectural Museum of Art continues until December 14th 2014. Entry is free for foreigners who are carrying some form of identification. There is also a very reasonably priced book, which catalogues pictures of all the exhibits, available in the museum shop.

Though some of the information at the exhibition is given in English, the bulk of it is not, so some familiarity with the stories of the Kojiki is definitely an advantage. And if you are not confident about your Japanese language ability, then having a Japanese friend to help you is also a good idea. I was certainly glad that my fiancée, Miu was with me to guide me through the ancient cosmology.

More details in Japanese and a map to the Museum are here: http://www.pref.nara.jp/miryoku/daikojikiten/

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Michael Lambe is the author of the Deep Kyoto blog (http://www.deepkyoto.com/) and Chief Editor of the Deep Kyoto: Walks anthology available from Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00KFM2J0C\

Miu emerges radiant from the heavenly rock cave

Pilgrimage

December 1, 2014 /

Ise pilgrimage in Edo times – the rich got to ride horses, others paid to have their belongings carried, while those incapable of making the pilgrimage sent dogs in their stead

In the Japan Times this week Green Shinto friend, Amy Chavez, has been writing about the Kumano pilgrimage route. It centres around the three great Shinto shrines known as the Kumano Sanzan. The network of trails is deeply syncretic, embracing several Buddhist sites too including the well-known Koyasan headquarters of the Shingon sect.

It’s said that pilgrimage is the largest collective human enterprise on earth, in which some 300 million people worldwide are engaged each year. Christians do it; Muslims do it; Hindus do it (and even birds do it, if you include migration as a form of pilgrimage!). A quarter of a million people go on the Santiago de Compostela pilgrimage each year, while 2-3 million do the Haj to Mecca (one of the five pillars of Islam). But even these numbers are dwarfed by those who undertook the Ise pilgrimage in Edo times, when religion was one of the few valid reasons for travel.

Pilgrimage to Ise in Edo times meant being part of a jostling throng headed for the Outer Shrine (Geku) and the nearby worldly pleasures

 

 

 

The appeal of pilgrimage in modern times goes along with the increasing tendency for people to seek spiritual fulfilment outside the confining rules of religion. The reluctance to join a religion stems from the barriers it creates with an ‘us and them’ mentality. On the other hand, people can take up pilgrimage any time they want without any commitment to a religion. They are free to come and go at their own pace. The destination provides a goal, and there is a tremendous sense of achievement in accomplishing it. When done properly, it can be transformative.

In setting out the pilgrim is embarking on a journey that takes them out of the mundane world of everyday cares and away from their comfort zones. It’s a journey that can make people confront themselves and look inward even as they look outward to the new surroundings. From anticipation and excitement, the pilgrim is led to introspection and self-examination. Physical pain and fatigue are accompanied by downbeat moments of despondency. Like any spiritual journey, the dark moments must be passed through in order to see the radiance at the end of the tunnel.

Modern pilgrimage in Japan often involves transport such as coaches, which could be seen as a symptom of the softness of contemporary life. But walking is an integral part of the process of pilgrimage. It forces the individual to slow down to a meditative pace, and the mind learns to get in step with the regular beat of foot against earth. It’s not by chance that writers and artists often get their best ideas when walking.

Along the way there are chance encounters, and every pilgrim’s story includes serendipitous meetings and chance remarks that prove enlightening. There are life-changing conversations with complete strangers, eager to recount the meaningful experiences they’ve undergone. And there’s a sense of camaraderie in the shared suffering.

Done properly then, the pilgrimage can marry the best of collective experience with the quest for individual enrichment. Shinto pilgrimages in particular often involve journeys into mountains, where the human spirit is refreshed by immersion in raw nature. On returning to reality, everything may seem outwardly the same but the inner self has been purified. The end is but a beginning…

Pilgrims on the Kumano Kodo (Old Pathways), near Nachi Waterfall.

Mesmerising mirrors

November 27, 2014 /

A trinity of mirrors in a subshrine of Fushimi Inari Taisha

 

Reflections on reflections

 
Green Shinto has posted several pieces before about the mesmerising nature of the circular mirror which stands in shrines as a symbol of the kami, Amaterasu in particular.  It’s such a fascinating subject.  (See previous postings here, here or here for example.)

A full-length mirror at Wakamiya Hachimangu in Kyoto

Most of the time the mirror that stands in the shrine reflects nothing in particular.  It only comes alive when someone moves in front of it, a spirit reflection moving in the mirror.  The otherworldly quality derives partly from the oddity of the reflection – for one thing it’s two-dimensional and trapped within a frame.

Look in a mirror, lift your left hand and the man in the mirror lifts his right hand.  Show a written message to the mirror, and it reverses the script so that you have to read it backwards.  Yet objects in the background seem to remain as they are.  It’s very baffling.

Even stranger is the optical illusion in terms of height.  In order to see the full length of an average adult, you only need a one-and-a half meter mirror.  It defies common sense.  Try walking towards and away from a mirror, and you realise that the reflection doesn’t alter proportionately. Something odd is going on.

Such oddities make the mirror more than mysterious.  Who exactly is the man in the mirror?  It’s clearly not me, because if I punch it he doesn’t get hurt.  So the assumption must be that it’s a semblance of me, much like a ghost is a semblance of a once living person.  One can see how easily this would lead to the notion of a soul being contained within the murky depths.  The soul of Amaterasu, for instance.

The mirror thus becomes the realm of the invisible.  It shows us what is unseen in everyday life.  Our face, for one thing.  Our true self.  Within the mirror lies a peculiar other world which is the opposite of our own – a spiritual world on a different plane from the physical.  Hence our desperate desire to see into into the looking-glass, to climb through like Alice and enter the Wonderland beyond.

Mirrors are truly magical.  The ancients knew what they were doing when they selected them as sacred objects.  Shamans wore them to ward off evil, Chinese rulers presented them as precious gifts, people in crisis made offerings of them to the kami.  Now they stand in shrines revealing the divine mystery within us all. Reflect on that, and polish your true self!

The bronze mirror of antiquity was a precious and sacred object. Here the carved back side is seen, the other side was carefully polished so as to reflect.

 

The shrine mirror waits to capture the spirit within

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