Tag: sacred trees

Forest bathing (academic)

The following is couched in academic terms but is highly relevant to the purpose of Green Shinto as it concerns sacred trees, spirituality and the environment. It is a call for papers for a workshop to be held in France, and its conclusion is worth noting: “in order to preserve the forest, it must be made a resource for well-being, biodiversity, resourcing, utopia, spirituality perceived as useful by humanity.”

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Asie-Sorbonne Workshop: The Tree that Hides the Forest

by Christine Vial Kayser

The aim of this workshop is to initiate a reflection on the dynamics of the relationship to the forest – and, beyond that, to nature – in Asia, its cultural and universal, physiological and emotional determinants. We start from the example of the Japanese practice of immersion in a forest called Shinrin-yoku or “forest bath” (or sylvotherapy), a practice born in Japan in the 1980s, following the same studies of the benefits of  “green” landscapes developed in the United States (Wilson 1984). These studies focus on the physical or psychological benefits but do not question possible non-physiological or psychological causes: cultural (imaginary of the tree), mnemonic and emotional causes, nor do they have a comparative perspective.

In Asia the practice could have animist (Knight 2009) or even Buddhist roots. They may take form within the concept of qi (ki) or vital energy shared between man and nature as well as the specific perception of trees in Asian philosophy (Bao et al. 2016; Escande 2011; Alban & Berwick 2004). Won Sop et al. highlight the traditional Korean combination of wood, stone and water to explain the health benefits of ‘forest baths’ in Korea (Won Sop et al. 2010). The representation of the Yakshini also testifies to the role of the tree as a source of life, sometimes ambivalent, in the Indian tradition, where certain species of trees are still considered sacred today. Such representations can be found in Europe before the revolution of modernity, or in the 19th century in European Romanticism (Harrison 1992) or in American transcendentalism (Egerton 2011).

The workshop will therefore examine in Asia in general, and in a comparative dimension with the West, the subjective representation, “for oneself”, of the forest that is formed during the experience, how this interferes with the representation of the forest “in itself”, as an external and autonomous object. We will ask whether the representation of trees in arts and culture sheds light on what happens during immersion in the forest: what is the role of previous images, whether literary, visual, taken from the world of art, visual culture, religious representations; traditional or contemporary (video games, multimedia installations). Indeed, the public’s fascination for these immersive practices in the forest is accompanied by the same thirst for immersive digital practices, as shown by the installation of the Japanese collective Team Lab (Tokyo) whose installations at the Mori Museum or in heritage forest locations (A Forest where gods live at Mifuneyama Rakuen Park) will soon be exhibited in Amsterdam (Huw 2020). This suggests that these installations, by certain aspects (interactivity, sense of “flow”) are perceived as “magical” (Jeon 2019).

The need for silence during the practice of “forest bathing”, presented by practitioners of the discipline as a way to listen to the mind-body relationship, is perhaps a way of being in contact with these imaginary elements. Decorating a tree in a ritual, immersing oneself in a video installation (despite its ambiguities) also. Conversely, the perception of the tree as a trunk to be felled extinguishes this plural dimension. It is also possible that the impression of unity between the inner world and the environment may have repairing properties of the Lacanian “fragmented body”, through sensitive experience (Kono 2011).

The objective is to understand, through a multidisciplinary cultural approach, the dynamics of the relationship to trees in Asia, and how cultural approaches can, possibly, contribute to the protection of trees and biodiversity. We postulate that in a “post-anthropocene”, ecological perspective, it is necessary to “re-enchant” the tree and the forest (as Bruno Latour suggests; Où suis-je, 2021; Face à Gaïa, 2015). Seeing the forest as a living space, an “Umwelt” of which we are only a part, and not as a “world” in which man shapes his habitat. Such a reversal of perspective, implied in the Japanese concept of satoyama, is itself a (re)construction (Indrawan et al. 2014) and can be critically approached, underlining its ambiguities (Rots 2014; Knight 2010). Indeed, it appears that for humans nature is always perceived as a resource (Descola 2005). We propose to explore the idea that in order to preserve the forest, it must be made a resource for well-being, biodiversity, resourcing, utopia, spirituality perceived as useful by humanity. For that the sensory and imaginative approach to nature must be associated with the dominant mechanistic-rationalist approach (Beau 2020).

These different aspects will be questioned in a comparative and in a critical perspective, eschewing essentialism, and possibly showing the limits of this hypothesis in the face of competing competition between nature and man. 

For those participants who wish, an immersion experience guided by a professional of Shinrin Yoku will be proposed in the forest of Fontainebleau (fee required).

Practical details

The workshop will take place in person and by videoconference at INHA, unless the pandemic still prohibits all meetings. Communications will be in French and English. 

Proposals in the form of an abstract of 300 to 500 words must be received by April 30 at contact@asie-sorbonne.fr. Successful participants will be notified by May 30. A publication of a selection of the contributions is planned.

Bibliography

–        Alban N., Berwick C. (2004), Forêt et religion au Japon, Environnement Culture et Société (6). OA.

–        Bao Y., Yang T., Lin X. and al. (2016), Aesthetic Preferences for Eastern and Western Traditional Visual Art: Identity Matters, Frontiers in Psychology, Doi: 10.3389/fpsyg.2016.01596. OA

– Beau F. (2020, 14 Sept.) Une esthétique du soin environnemental pour cultiver la légèreté, in A. Foiret, « Art et écologie : des croisements fertiles? », Plastik, n° 9. http://plastik.univ-paris1.fr/quest-ce-que-lart-apporte-a-lecologie/

–        Descola P. (2005) ; Par-delà nature et culture, Paris, Gallimard.

–        Egerton F. (2011), History of Ecological Sciences, Part 39: Henry David Thoreau, Ecologist, Bulletin of ecological society of America. https://doi.org/10.1890/0012-9623-92.3.251

–        Escande Y. (2011), L’arbre en Chine, in J. Pigeaud, L’arbre ou la raison des arbres, PUR.

–        Harrison R. (1992). Forest: Shadow of civilization, Chicago, The University Of Chicago Press.

–        Huw O. (2020, sept.), Europe is getting a teamLab art space, and it’s going to be mindblowing, Time Out. Online: https://www.timeout.com/news/europe-is-getting-a-teamlab-art-space-and-i…

–        Knight C. (2009, dec.), “Between the profane and the spirit worlds: the conceptualisation of uplands and mountains in Japanese and Maori folklore”. New Zealand Journal of Asian Studies, vol. 11, n°2.

– Knight C. (2010), The concept of satoyama and its role in the contemporary discourse on nature conservation in Japan, Asian Studies Review, 34(4), 421 (December 2010)
–    Indrawan M., Yabe M., Nomura H., Harrison R. (2014, March). Deconstructing satoyama – The socio-ecological landscape in Japan (science direct) show that satoyama is cultural social construct, Ecological Engineering, vol. 64, pp. 77-84.

–        Jeon M., Fiebrink R., Edmond E., Herath D. (2019, Nov.). From rituals to magic: Interactive art and HCI of the past, present, and future, International Journal of Human-Computer Studies (131):108-119.

–        Kono T. (2011). Ecological Self: Body and Affordances, Kyoto, Nakanishiya publisher (in Japanese).

–        Rots A. (2014). Does Shinto offer a viable model for environmental sustainability? Excerpts from author’s PhD. Online Academia.

–        Wilson E. (1984). Biophilia. Cambridge, MA, Harvard University Press.

–        Won Sop S., Poung Sik Y., Rhi Wha Y., and Chang Seob S. (2010, Jan.). Forest experience and psychological health benefits: the state of the art and future prospect in Korea, Environ Health Prev Med; 15(1): 38–47. Doi: 10.1007/s12199-009-0114-9Contact Info: 

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.”

Sacred trees

Trees become sacred through their distinctiveness, whether age, size, peculiarity or through being struck by lightning
Sacred tree on the island of Shiraishi

The following is taken from Brainpickings by Mary Popova…

“Aside from the appearance of a tree by day or night, is it not kin of the human family with its roots in the earth and its arms stretching toward the sky as if to seek and to know the great mystery?” the artist Art Young wondered in the 1920s in the brief preface to his stunning Rorschach silhouettes of trees at night. Artists, poets, and philosophers have long turned to trees as a clarifying and consolatory force for our human struggles, from William Blake’s most beautiful metaphor to Walt Whitman’s reverence for their wisdom to Martin Buber’s arboreal existentialism.


Still, I have encountered no lovelier celebration of trees than the one Mary Oliver (September 10, 1935–January 17, 2019) offers in her poem “When I Am Among the Trees,” originally published in 2006, later included in her farewell gift to the world, Devotions: The Selected Poems of Mary Oliver (public library):

WHEN I AM AMONG THE TREES 
by Mary Oliver

When I am among the trees,
especially the willows and the honey locust,
equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,
they give off such hints of gladness.
I would almost say that they save me, and daily.
I am so distant from the hope of myself,
in which I have goodness, and discernment,
and never hurry through the world
but walk slowly, and bow often.
Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, “Stay awhile.”
The light flows from their branches.
And they call again, “It’s simple,” they say,
“and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
with light, and to shine.”

Tanabata decorations and a sacred tree

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