Tag: nature worship

Japanese animism

Interesting article in the Japan News by a former Japanese diplomat, Kagefumi Ueno. It begins by noting the recent upturn in the number of pet funerals, and widens out to conclude with observations about modernity and tradition in the Japanese mindset.

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Nature-centric rock worship (photos by John Dougill)

Kagefumi Ueno writes: “Even in historically non-Christian Asian countries such as China and Korea, I understand that they seldom offer funeral services for pets, possibly for cultural reasons. In part they tend to notionally distinguish people from animals, which could be described as anthropocentric. In contrast, the Japanese, who are generally much less anthropocentric or more nature-centric, draw such distinctions less sharply.

Indeed, it is not only pets whose souls the Japanese revere. They revere or soothe the souls of many categories of dead animals — ranging from animals sacrificed for medical testing to fish or shrimps or whales that are caught and eaten, to police dogs and so forth.

They do this through religious ceremonies called kuyo — also held for deceased human beings — that are by and large officiated by Shinto or Buddhist clergy. They pay tribute to the animals’ sacrifice. Even today kuyo ceremonies for animals take place almost everywhere in Japan. For example, if you visit the Tsukiji Namiyoke Jinja shrine in Tokyo, you can see stone monuments for the fish, clams, eggs and even kombu seaweed that were once sold at the nearby Tsukiji Market.

Nor is the inclusion of kombu so unusual. The Japanese hold kuyo ceremonies even for inanimate objects — used utensils such as needles and kitchen knives, used medical syringes, used pens and brushes, used factory machinery and so forth — in order to thank these objects for the services they offered for a long time, just before they are disposed of. It is to soothe their spirits or souls.

While I was serving as the Japanese ambassador to Guatemala over 20 years ago, a Guatemalan government minister who was of Mayan origin told me that indigenous Mayan people similarly practice religious ceremonies to thank machinery for its hard work just before it is scrapped. Like them, the Japanese sometimes regard even lifeless things as people by sensing their souls. Moreover, they also sense divinity even in the lowliest insects or smallest plants. Many scholars call this mind-set animistic, pantheistic or polytheistic.

Below the surface of the popularity of pet funerals, one may perceive a very animistic or pantheistic ethos or sentiment at the basic stratum of Japanese culture. It is a trait the Japanese may share with Mayans or some of the indigenous peoples of North America.

This animism or pantheism has significant visible, tangible aspects as well as non-visible, abstract aspects.

Sacred waterfall at Nachi, in Wakayama Prefecture

First, at a visible, tangible level, the Japanese as nature worshippers adore mountains, springs, lakes, waterfalls, rocks, majestic trees, the observable planets, and so forth, much like the Mayans, Pre-Christian Celts or Australian Indigenous people. These things are deemed to be divine or sacred. That’s why many Shinto shrines are in the vicinity of those sacred things to facilitate the worship of their divinity.

Against this backdrop, many classic works of Japanese literature — notably the Manyoshu , a compilation of classic waka poems of the eighth century, and haiku by 17th-century poet Matsuo Basho — are not seldom manifestations of such animistic or pantheistic sentiment.

Second, at a more abstract or spiritual level, the Japanese tend to identify themselves with Mother Nature or the Universe and have a sense of unity with Nature or a sense of belonging to it. They believe that they can reach the ultimate spiritual stage only when or after they become absorbed by or melted into Nature by discarding their self or ego. A Mayan or a pre-Christian Celt might share a similar cosmovision.

It should now be clear that at the basis of today’s Japanese civilization lie two distinctive elements, namely the animistic ethos on one hand and modernism and rational thinking on the other. Hence, contemporary Japanese civilization could be interpreted as a hybrid of two very distinctive and sometimes contradictory things, namely, pre-modernity and modernity. Whereas their pre-modern half urges people to revere souls of waterfalls, trees or mountains in an animistic manner, their rational half urges them to take a scientific approach, setting aside animistic mentality. It is a kind of dualism or hybridity. The two halves sometimes clash. However, more often they coexist without conspicuous conflicts.

It may be a source of wonder or amazement that the 150-year process of modernization and industrialization of Japan did not substantially extinguish the people’s animistic mentality. Thus, even today, Japanese high technology is taken care of by those who abound in animistic ethos. Don’t take it as a contradiction.”

Collection space for the kuyo (soul pacification) of old dolls

The power of nature

Photos by John Dougill

The reverence for nature undoubtedly underlies the appeal of Shinto, though it is a mistake to think there is nothing more to the religion. Nonetheless that is the part which is often assumed by some outside Japan to comprise all there is. In the following powerful piece by Maria Popova one can see why the desire for Shinto to be simply a nature religion is so strong, for there is a deep need in humans to connect with our environment.

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The great naturalist John Muir observed long ago, “when we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the universe”; a return to what is noblest, which means most natural, in us. There is something deeply humanizing in listening to the rustle of a newly leaved tree, in watching a bumblebee romance a blossom, in kneeling onto the carpet of soil to make a hole for a sapling, gently moving a startled earthworm or two out of the way.

Walt Whitman knew this when he weighed what makes life worth living as he convalesced from a paralytic stroke: “After you have exhausted what there is in business, politics, conviviality, love, and so on — have found that none of these finally satisfy, or permanently wear — what remains? Nature remains; to bring out from their torpid recesses, the affinities of a man or woman with the open air, the trees, fields, the changes of seasons — the sun by day and the stars of heaven by night.”

Those unmatched rewards, both psychological and physiological, are what beloved neurologist and author Oliver Sacks (1933–2015) explores in a lovely short essay titled ‘Why We Need Gardens.’ He writes:

As a writer, I find gardens essential to the creative process; as a physician, I take my patients to gardens whenever possible. All of us have had the experience of wandering through a lush garden or a timeless desert, walking by a river or an ocean, or climbing a mountain and finding ourselves simultaneously calmed and reinvigorated, engaged in mind, refreshed in body and spirit. The importance of these physiological states on individual and community health is fundamental and wide-ranging. In forty years of medical practice, I have found only two types of non-pharmaceutical “therapy” to be vitally important for patients with chronic neurological diseases: music and gardens.

Having lived and worked in New York City for half a century — a city “sometimes made bearable… only by its gardens” — Sacks recounts witnessing nature’s tonic effects on his neurologically impaired patients: A man with Tourette’s syndrome, afflicted by severe verbal and gestural tics in the urban environment, grows completely symptom-free while hiking in the desert; an elderly woman with Parkinson’s disease, who often finds herself frozen elsewhere, can not only easily initiate movement in the garden but takes to climbing up and down the rocks unaided; several people with advanced dementia and Alzheimer’s disease, who can’t recall how to perform basic operations of civilization like tying their shoes, suddenly know exactly what to do when handed seedlings and placed before a flower bed. Sacks reflects:

I cannot say exactly how nature exerts its calming and organizing effects on our brains, but I have seen in my patients the restorative and healing powers of nature and gardens, even for those who are deeply disabled neurologically. In many cases, gardens and nature are more powerful than any medication.

More than half a century after the great marine biologist and environmental pioneer Rachel Carson asserted that “there is in us a deeply seated response to the natural universe, which is part of our humanity,” Sacks adds:

Clearly, nature calls to something very deep in us. Biophilia, the love of nature and living things, is an essential part of the human condition. Hortophilia, the desire to interact with, manage, and tend nature, is also deeply instilled in us. The role that nature plays in health and healing becomes even more critical for people working long days in windowless offices, for those living in city neighborhoods without access to green spaces, for children in city schools, or for those in institutional settings such as nursing homes. The effects of nature’s qualities on health are not only spiritual and emotional but physical and neurological. I have no doubt that they reflect deep changes in the brain’s physiology, and perhaps even its structure.

Green shoots

Humans as part of, not apart from, the environment

“In recent decades, debates have erupted and intensified about the relationships between religions, cultures, and the earth’s living systems. Some scholars have argued that ritual and religion can play a salutary role in helping humans regulate natural systems in ecologically sustainable ways. Others have blamed one or more religions, or religion in general, for promoting worldviews and cultures that precipitate environmental damage. Religious production in recent years suggests not only that many religions are becoming more environmentally friendly but also that a kind of civic planetary earth religion may be evolving. Examples of such novel, nature-related religious production allow us to ponder whether, and if so in what ways, the future of religion may be green.”

So runs the abstract for a paper entitled ‘A green future for religion’ by Bron R. Taylor. I must confess my interest was aroused by the notion of a ‘civic planetary earth religion’. Yes, please…

For the moment it’s of more than passing interest to witness the ‘greening’ of religions as the environmental crisis deepens. Even the Pope has been showing green credentials.

Izumi Hasegawa at the Shusse Inari Shrine in Matsue, parent shrine of her Los Angeles project

A striking example of a Shinto outreach to the green movement is currently being displayed in California with the recent establishment of the Shinto Shrine of Shusse Inari. The head priest has been pushing the environmental potential inherent in Shinto with slogans such as ‘Passing along eco-conscious traditions to the next generation’.

It takes courage to be a pioneer ahead of the game, and our respect goes out to Rev. Izumi Hasegawa for her trail-blazing activities. As a resident of Los Angeles, she is undertaking a daunting task in setting up a Shinto shrine with English outreach to the local population, yet thanks to her hard efforts she is managing to succeed against the odds.

Indicative of Hasegawa-san’s resolute and innovative spirit is the live stream of Shinto services she is offering, one of which will be starting on youtube even as this article is being written. It’s a Summer Blessing ‘to show respect and appreciation to the nature spirits and asking for blessings’. Here is part of the publicity for the event, which shows a revisioning of Shinto along pan-national and environmental lines.

Shinto is a mindset and way of living with respect for nature, living things and our ancestors, and it has long been recognized as Japan’s cultural root. Unlike Buddhism, Christianity, or other religions, Shinto has no holy texts, and there is no individual founder. It is said that Shinto has been practiced for more than 2,000 years.
 One of the most important elements of Shinto is paying respect and seeking harmony between people and nature, among our families, communities, and the world. In today’s society, the need to strive for these goals has become more apparent than ever before.
We hold various events introducing the traditional Japanese eco-conscious way of life so that future generations can enjoy nature as we do. Details about Shinto and these events can be found on our Newsletter, website, and social media.
Please join and enjoy our events!!

May the Nature Spirits/Kami-sama be with you!
Stay safe and be well!
Rev. Izumi Hasegawa
Shinto Shrine of Shusse Inari in America

 www.ShintoInari.org     
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Rev Izumi Hasegawa pays respects at Fushimi Inari, head of the Inari shrines nationwide

Animism (1): Trees

Here’s a treat for anyone attracted by the animist aspects of Shinto. It’s part of a series of short videos called Wander by filmmaker Beau Kerouac to give quarantined people a virtual sense of parks and cultural sites, accompanied by meaningful narration.

In this particular five–minute video, Natascha McElhone recites a passage from Herman Hesse originally published in 1920 in a miscellany entitled Wandering: Notes and Sketches (words below the video). Accompanying the extract are scenes from London’s Kew Gardens, which bring together the visual and the verbal in a triumphant championing of the majesty of trees. Their spiritual and restorative power is here presented in a way that is uplifting and inspirational. If you can’t hug a tree, you can do so virtually through this creative collaboration, a perfect antidote to our socially distanced times.

The recognition of certain trees as embodying the life-force is indicated in Shinto by the designation of shinboku (sacred tree). As in other shamanic traditions, these are the trees selected by the kami as special. Some are extraordinary for their size, some for their age, some for their shape, and some because they have been struck by lightning (a sign of heavenly descent). The trees are honoured by having a shimenawa rice rope strung around them, as if to express in physical manner a desire to embrace the tree. As Herman Hesse says, they have much to teach us if we listen…

“For me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers. I revere them when they live in tribes and families, in forests and groves. And even more I revere them when they stand alone. They are like lonely persons. Not like hermits who have stolen away out of some weakness, but like great, solitary men, like Beethoven and Nietzsche. In their highest boughs the world rustles, their roots rest in infinity; but they do not lose themselves there, they struggle with all the force of their lives for one

Sacred tree at Fuji Sengen Jinja

thing only: to fulfill themselves according to their own laws, to build up their own form, to represent themselves. Nothing is holier, nothing is more exemplary than a beautiful, strong tree. When a tree is cut down and reveals its naked death-wound to the sun, one can read its whole history in the luminous, inscribed disk of its trunk: in the rings of its years, its scars, all the struggle, all the suffering, all the sickness, all the happiness and prosperity stand truly written, the narrow years and the luxurious years, the attacks withstood, the storms endured. And every young farmboy knows that the hardest and noblest wood has the narrowest rings, that high on the mountains and in continuing danger the most indestructible, the strongest, the ideal trees grow.

Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth. They do not preach learning and precepts, they preach, undeterred by particulars, the ancient law of life.

A tree says: A kernel is hidden in me, a spark, a thought, I am life from eternal life. The attempt and the risk that the eternal mother took with me is unique, unique the form and veins of my skin, unique the smallest play of leaves in my branches and the smallest scar on my bark. I was made to form and reveal the eternal in my smallest special detail.

A tree says: My strength is trust. I know nothing about my fathers, I know nothing about the thousand children that every year spring out of me. I live out the secret of my seed to the very end, and I care for nothing else. I trust that God is in me. I trust that my labor is holy. Out of this trust I live.

When we are stricken and cannot bear our lives any longer, then a tree has something to say to us: Be still! Be still! Look at me! Life is not easy, life is not difficult. Those are childish thoughts… Home is neither here nor there. Home is within you, or home is nowhere at all.

A longing to wander tears my heart when I hear trees rustling in the wind at evening. If one listens to them silently for a long time, this longing reveals its kernel, its meaning. It is not so much a matter of escaping from one’s suffering, though it may seem to be so. It is a longing for home, for a memory of the mother, for new metaphors for life. It leads home. Every path leads homeward, every step is birth, every step is death, every grave is mother.

So the tree rustles in the evening, when we stand uneasy before our own childish thoughts: Trees have long thoughts, long-breathing and restful, just as they have longer lives than ours. They are wiser than we are, as long as we do not listen to them. But when we have learned how to listen to trees, then the brevity and the quickness and the childlike hastiness of our thoughts achieve an incomparable joy. Whoever has learned how to listen to trees no longer wants to be a tree. He wants to be nothing except what he is. That is home. That is happiness.”

Kifune’s Two Rocks

Kifune Shrine entrance steps

Yellow Boat
Kifune Shrine to the north of Kyoto stands in the village of Kibune, which is why many Japanese mistakenly call it Kibune Jinja. The shrine however insists on the proper pronunciation of Kifune – meaning, Yellow Boat.

The shrine is ancient and was once highly ranked. Still today it’s noted for its close connection with water and the rain kami, with streams cascading down hilly surrounds. The theme is maintained in the fortune slips that have to be immersed in water before they become legible.

The origin of the shrine concerns the eponymous Yellow Boat, for it’s said in ancient times that an imperial princess came by boat from Osaka to seek the source of the river. She managed to get all the way up to the slopes of Kibune, and the spot at which she stopped is commemorated now with a plaque that stands in the upper part of the shrine (Okunomiya). There you will find a rock boat, representing the one that she supposedly used. (One presumes the original had a yellowish tint.)

The rockboat at Kifune’s Okunomiya

The first question that comes to mind is why would anyone choose to travel in a rock boat? You could hardly imagine anything less practical, guaranteed to sink rather than float. The answer lies in the elevation of the princess to an ancestral kami. Since kami are immortal, they are associated with the most enduring of substances – rock. (For more on the subject, see this posting.)

The rock boat that stands in Kifune’s upper shrine is in fact a modern addition, for it was found in the mountains in 1996 with a shape suggestive of an ancient boat. Because of Shinto’s inclination to take chance and coincidence as signs of the divine, the rock was seen as sacred and installed at the shrine as a symbolic feature. You’ll sometimes see people in prayer before it.

The rock inscription of Izumi Shikibu’s poem

Culture rock
In the same small compound of Okunomiya is a rock of another kind, covered with the inscription of a poem by famed Heian court lady, Izumi Shikibu. She was twice married, the second time to the brother of her dead husband, and is closely associated with love – passionate love and broken love. Once when she was having relationship trouble (the husband she loved had turned his attentions to another), she came on pilgrimage here and composed a poem about the fireflies she saw.

Reflecting on my life –
the fireflies above the stream
seem to be my yearning soul
wandering free of my body

物思へば澤の螢も我身よりあくがれ出づる玉かとぞみる
mono omoeba sawa no hotaru mo wagami yori akugare izuru tama ka to zo miru

In her poem Izumi compared her love to the fireflies, flickering bright but briefly. Poems in Heian days were known as uta (songs), and as she sang her composition to the gods by way of an offering she heard a response seeking to console her. Not long afterwards the relationship with her husband improved.

Rocking on
The two rocks of Kifune thus encapsulate the role of cultural guardian that is an important aspect of Shinto. One marks Japan’s spiritual heritage, the other the artistic. The rock-gift of Mother Earth thereby unites the majesty of nature with human creativity, and in so doing it memorialises both.

Small as it is, Kifune Shrine is one of Green Shinto’s favourites, for it speaks to mankind’s inviolable bond with the environment. But more than that, it exemplifies the vital role that Shinto plays as a post-shamanic religion not only in sanctifying the spirit of place, but in preserving the communal sense of identity. So next time you are in Kyoto, take a ride upstream to Kifune, and you too may be moved by the power of rock to give substance to the unseen.

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For more about Kifune Shrine and its links with nature, see here or here.
For more about the spiritual quality of rocks, please look through the relevant Category in the righthand column of this page.

The power of water to give life and transform is reflected in fortune slips that only become legible when immersed

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