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Sochi Olympic prayers

Shrine flooded with prayers for Takahashi

The Yomiuri Shimbun KYOTO February 9, 2014

Daisuke Takahashi, Olympic hopeful (copyright Reuters)

Many people have written their hopes that figure skater Daisuke Takahashi will recover completely from his leg injury on ema wooden tablets at Go Shrine, as the shrine is said to heal legs and other parts of the lower body.

Legend has it that Wake-no Kiyomaro, a Nara period (710-784) nobleman enshrined at Go, was protected by 300 wild boars when he was attacked by swordsmen sent by a powerful evil priest. His leg tendons, which were injured by the priest, were also healed.

Kiyomaro is thus worshiped as the guardian deity of legs, since boars are seen as having strong legs. This idea is also contained in the Japanese phrase “chototsu moshin,” which means “rushing headlong like a boar” into something.

Takahashi was told he had a contusion on his right shin bone in November last year. According to the shrine, ema tablets praying for his complete recovery began pouring in right before the all-Japan figure skating championships in December and the number sharply increased around the New Year holiday season.

The about 150 ema tablets contain such wishes as “I hope his right leg will be cured” and “I hope we can see his nice smile in Sochi.”  Some women came from as far as Saitama and Tokushima prefectures, according to the shrine.

“I want him to give a powerful performance while keeping in mind the hope everyone has for him,” said Takahiro Hongo, the shrine’s senior priest.

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For more about Goo Jinja and an explanation of the Kiyomaro legend, see here.

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The water basin at Goo Jinja. 300 wild boar saved the life of Wake no Kiyomaro after his tendons had been cut by would-be imperial usurper, the arch-priest Dokyo.

Shinto awakenings (1)

Green Shinto is a forum for a wide range of aspects related to Shinto, which include the fundamental values of Japanese culture as well as matters of faith.

Over the past couple of years we’ve been fortunate to carry interviews with some of the leading foreigners involved in Shinto and learnt of what brought them to the religion.  (See here, here or here.)  Now Green Shinto takes special pleasure in announcing the first part of a personal journey by a young Westerner in Japan for whom Shinto has provided a spiritual focus.

Quin Arbeitman is based in Fukuoka, and hails from New York State.  He’s lived in Japan for 9 years, and is an English teacher and jazz pianist.  The selfie on the left shows him at the Hakozaki Tamaseseri festival, when half-naked men scramble for a ball while being showered with cold water.  There’s an interview about the musical side of his life here, and to listen to some samples of his superb swing style click here.

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Shinto Awakenings 1: One Year of Shinto

As I write this, it’s the end of the day on February 3rd, also known in Japan as Setsubun, a holiday probably most famous for the fact that it involves ritual demon exorcism that’s fun for the whole family. So after kicking out all the demons out of my place, I sat down and ate myself 39 roasted soybeans, one for each year of my life. As I ate each one, I tried to remember at least one thing from that year. An interesting exercise, I recommend it highly.

Setsubun: Home alone, Quin played both the part of Otafuku and the Oni, before eating one bean for every year of his life (all photos courtesy Arbeitman)

I have to say that the 38th soybean turned a little bit poignant. As I chewed, I reflected on the fact that it marked the year in which I began to practice Shinto. In fact, by a certain way of reckoning, it’s been exactly a year to the day, as last year’s Setsubun was the very first Shinto event I ever participated in with a mind and heart sincerely open to the possibility of a hidden reality inside this troubled world we share. Over the last twelve months, that single change has opened the floodgates to a whole different universe of experience.

This blog’s proprietor has asked me to write something about my personal experience as a Shinto practitioner. It’s with a little bit of trepidation that I write this. It’s scarier than you might think to come out of the sakaki closet. Unlike many other closets, there’s not much in the way of company out here. Literally the only other foreigners I’ve ever had contact with who self-identify as Shinto practitioners have all gone that extra mile (or thousand miles) and trained to become a full-fledged priest or priestess. And in the Age of the Internet, there’s a very real risk that from here on out, I’ll be forever seen as some kind of kooky religious flake. Strike One with prospective employers and so forth.

Ah well. Mainstream acceptance is overrated anyhow. By going on the record like this, it’s my hope that any Hidden Shintoists hiding in the woodwork will feel free to contact me, whether publicly via the comments on this blog or privately through my website, as it’s a little lonely being the only non-ordained Shintoist foreigner I know. To the rest of you out there, please let me assure you that it really is not my wish to act as any kind of missionary for Shinto, eager to convert the Tall-Nosed masses to the “Way of the Gods”. In fact, it was precisely the fact that Shinto did not preach to me in the slightest which let me feel like it was safe for me to approach in the first place.

So.  American.  In Japan.  English Teacher.  Pianist.  Atheist until recently.  Now not so Hidden Shintoist.  How did I end up here, anyway? I’m not entirely sure myself.

I do believe I am probably not alone among the people who read this when I say that over the last several years, a kind of deep rooted existential malaise had been creeping its way into my heart. Really this started a very long time ago – at least as far back as my teens – but it had only gotten worse in recent years. Certainly I generally thought of myself as happy; but it was happiness with a ruling house of insecurity. This was in large part because I had no confidence in there being any satisfying answers to the deeper questions about our place in life, in the universe, in everything.

The problem I was having with atheism — and I recognize this is no argument which refutes it on logical grounds — was that it held no sustenance for me for any of the questions that really mattered. If we do not accept a deeper spiritual connection between all things, if anything we do fades away once we die, and no matter how high we soar or how low we fall our ultimate fate is uncaring oblivion, then why does anything we do matter at all? Why be choose to be good? Why choose to be anything? Who cares, really?

Some atheists answer “Why does anything need to matter? Maybe it just is,” while others answer, “We bring our own meaning to the universe”, and there are certainly atheists that would say other things too. But none of the answers I found there left me on solid ground emotionally or spiritually. Every time I tried to consider humanity’s place in an arbitrary mechanistic universe, I got this kind of overwhelming existential vertigo and eventually did my best not to think about it.

Wakamiya Jinja in Imaizumi, Fukuoka, where Quin first prayed on his own. It enshrines Toyotama Hime no mikoto.

This was not a recipe for spiritual balance. It was like eating a diet of bread made largely of sawdust (or as they prefer to list it on today’s packaging, cellulose): sure, you may feel full after any particular meal, but over time you just end up more and more undernourished.

Of course, I don’t believe that me wishing for the universe to have a deeper meaning can make it so. I just hope to articulate why I was in the mood to explore something different, that’s all. That I actually eventually discovered something deeper, I am grateful for.

Now, one approach I was coming across now and then which appealed to me was that there might be some kinds of religious experience which could only be understood from the inside.  Perhaps independent, repeatable, externally verifiable proof might be impossible, but personal gnosis was still something, I heard it claimed, that was quite attainable.  I decided to give it a chance, and choose a faith in which to lark about for a while as a kind of “religious tourist” and see how it made me feel. If nothing else, I thought, perhaps the very act of trying might give me a bit of the inner contentment I felt was lacking.

But which religion to choose?  For a variety of personal reasons I didn’t really feel comfortable with any of the major religions that I knew from America.  And seeing as I lived in Japan, it seemed like it could also be a good opportunity to connect with Japanese culture a little bit as well.  Being that Buddhism was far too trendy among foreigners and I like to defy expectations a bit, that left only Shinto.  (So if I feel lonely in my choice of faith, I guess I only have myself to blame, don’t I!)

I got on the net and did a little bit of reading.  As any regular Green Shinto reader probably knows well, there’s not a great deal about Shinto in English on the internet — although maybe something is changing in the zeitgeist, as it seems like there’s already more right now than when I first started poking around a year ago.  (In no small part due to the efforts of this very blog, I should add. This blog has been a godsend for me — perhaps literally.)

At the time I couldn’t make much sense of the dizzying assortment of deities with long names, but the actual practical steps I could take to start to practice seemed straightforward enough. Ablution, left-right-left-gargle-left-ladle.  Worship, donate-bow-bow-clap-clap-pray-bow.  Simple in theory, anyhow.

I don’t know exactly what day I started — I didn’t take notes, I didn’t say “this is the day I’m going to start praying at Shinto shrines” — I just did the necessary reading, thought about it for a while, and then one day kind of found myself going inside the shrine nearest to my apartment, and praying.

I was self-conscious, of course, but I approached the task with sincerity.  I imagined myself stepping into the spirit world as I passed through the torii gate.  I imagined my spirit become purer as I rinsed my hands in the ritual manner. I imagined there to be a real kami there who I was communicating with as I prayed, and introduced myself to them, and expressed the desire to become acquainted.  I imagined myself stepping back into regular reality once I passed through the torii gate once more.

To be clear, I don’t think I really believed at that time that any kami were actually there. I just decided to act as though they were for a while, just to see what would happen.  I thought of myself as a kind of “religious tourist”.  A tourist doesn’t wait until they have a doctorate in Spanish to go to Spain; they certainly don’t try to get Spanish citizenship first.  They just pack their bags and go there.  Similarly, I started practicing Shinto without really knowing anything about it.  I left the theory for later, and just started trying to do things.

I think this was the right approach. I’ll talk about how it went next time.

 

Dressed to the nines, Quin prior to lifting the palanquin for the Kaguya Hime festival connected with Wakamiya Jinja

Sacred groves

Sacred groves bring light, life and greenery to Japan's often concrete-encased cities

 

What trees would you find in a Buddhist grove that you wouldn’t find in a Shinto grove?  It’s a puzzle answered by one of my favourite columnists, Keven Short, in The Japan News today, though judging by the Kyoto weather his headline is somewhat premature.   4C at midday doesn’t feel much like spring!  (Short is a naturalist and anthropology professor at Tokyo University of Information Sciences.)

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February 06, 2014
Kevin Short / Special to The Japan News
Spring is here at last!

At least in the traditional Asian koyomi calendar, this past Tuesday marked Risshun, or the official start of spring. In the lunar reckoning, the first moon of the New Year has been waxing toward first quarter. The setting Sun, in turn, has been slowly climbing up and over the snow-covered slopes of Mt. Fuji.

This year I’m continuing my study project on Japanese sacred groves. Almost all Shinto shrines are surrounded by a grove of old-growth trees. Even urban shrines will often have a few ancient oaks or keyaki zelkovas. Folklorists believe that the Japanese originally worshipped their kami deities in dense groves of tall trees. Later, actual shrine buildings were constructed to house the deities, but the traditional animistic cosmology was continued in sacred trees and groves.

Although not as well known as those of Shinto shrines, some Buddhist temples also support a substantial grove of protected trees. The Buddhist cosmology is infused with a strong ecological ethic. All living creatures are thought to derive their life energy from the same universal source.

(courtesy Kevin Short)

Temple groves often contain species of trees that are almost never found around Shinto shrines. These are trees that are considered sacred to the Buddhist faith. A typical example is the bodaiju lime tree. According to Buddhist tradition, the historic Buddha Shakyamuni (Shaka-Nyorai in Japanese) obtained enlightenment while meditating under the branches of a sacred fig tree (Ficus religiosa).

Buddhism later spread from India westward into Pakistan and from there eastward along the old Silk Road trading route to China. The sacred fig, however, is a tropical species that does not thrive in the cool temperate zone. The Chinese thus substituted a native tree with similar-looking heart-shaped leaves. The priest Eisai, founder of the Rinzai sect of Zen Buddhism, is said to have brought the first bodaiju to Japan sometime in the late 12th century.

The small white lime flowers bloom in midsummer. They are extremely fragrant, and are a favorite of honeybees. The flowers are attached to a distinctive structure called a bract. Later, when the small hard fruits develop, the bracts turn aerodynamic, dropping off intact and carrying the still-attached seeds away on the wind.

In Japan, fibers pulled from the inner bark of the native species were traditionally used to weave cloth and baskets, and to make paper. The temple bodaiju, being protected trees, are not used for this purpose, but the hard fruits are sometimes strung together to make simple Buddhist juzu rosaries.

Another tree often seen around temples is the mukuroji soapnut tree. This deciduous species is native to the warmer areas of western Honshu, Shikoku, Kyushu and the Ryukyu Islands, as well as to Taiwan and the southern Asian mainland. The large leaves are compound, with an even number of small leaflets attached in a featherlike pattern along a long central axis. Tiny flowers bloom in midsummer. The berries ripen in autumn and consist of a single, very hard, round, black seed inside a leathery rind.

The rind of the mukuroji fruits contains copious amounts of chemicals called saponins. When stirred or shaken in water, these chemicals produce abundant foam. Many species of plants contain saponins, which botanists believe may help make the plants poisonous or at least unpalatable to certain insects. Throughout the world people have traditionally used these foamy plants as shampoos, soaps and laundry detergents. Soaps made from the mukuroji rinds are still available at natural cosmetics stores.

The hard black seeds of the mukuroji can be polished to a beautiful sheen, and are used to fashion high-quality juzu rosaries. The saponins are found only in the rinds, not in the seeds themselves, which actually contain edible oils that can be extracted and used for cooking. In addition, there are old folk beliefs that the mukuroji trees have a magical power to protect children from illness. The kanji used to write the tree’s name can be interpreted as something like “No (mu)—Illness (wazurai)— Child (ji).”

A sense of the sacred in the shrine precincts of Togakushi Jinja in Nagano

Mini-torii

Happiness is a tight squeeze!

 

Squeezing through tight holes for good luck is very much a Japanese tradition that seems to cross the board in Buddhism, Shugendo and Shinto.  No doubt it’s related to the act of being (re-)born.  One of the fun things at Todai-ji in Nara is to watch schoolchildren and young women giggling with delight as they squeeze through the hole at the bottom of one of the giant pillars.  And here in Kyoto we have the Yasui Konpira-gu shrine where people pass through a hole in a rock in one direction to cut off a bad relationship (enkiri) and then in the reverse direction in the hope of making a new relationship (enmusubi).

I’ve also noticed one or two mini-torii on my travels, and now Gabi Greve of the Joys of Japan blog has alerted me to an article on the subject.  The extract below comes from a blog by ampontan, and the original can be found here.

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HOW’S THIS for a bright idea?  Religious institutions where they encourage people to have some playground fun!

That seems to be the motivation for the Shinto shrines in Japan which have what are called mini-torii. The torii is the distinctive shrine gateway, and it serves as both the marker of the sacred space and as a symbol for the shrine itself.  It’s usually erected near the start of the path leading to the main hall.

But just because something’s sacred doesn’t mean it can’t be used for amusement.  One example is shown in the first photo, which is a scene from the Flower Festival at the Awashima shrine in Unzen, Nagasaki. (You might remember that Unzen was the location of some severe volcano eruptions in the early 1990s.)

In addition to the regular torii at the front of the premises, the Awashima shrine has three mini-torii.  It’s a festival custom for women to try to crawl through these gateways. Successfully squeezing through all three is said to bring several benefits, such as safe childbirth, the rearing of healthful children, and a happy marriage.  (Perhaps I should rearrange the order of those benefits!)

The torii are made of stone and have inner dimensions of 33 centimeters, 30 centimeters, and 27 centimeters. The women pass through the largest one first and then go on to the smaller ones in succession, which is supposed to represent the process of childbirth.

Five-sided pencil torii - pass through and you may squeeze through your exams too!

Meanwhile, the Awashima shrine in Uto, Kumamoto (this Awashima is written with different kanji), bills itself as having the number one mini-torii in Japan, as you can see from its Japanese-language website.  They also have three mini-torii that people crawl through, though all three have 30-centimeter-square openings.

Since mini-torii are the shrine’s specialty, the parents in the district asked the authorities to create some special ones so their kids could crawl through in the hope of helping them pass school entrance examinations. That’s how the shrine’s chief priest came up with the idea for the one he’s showing off in the photo. The shrine has assembled it during the exam period during the past two years, and this year it was left up until March 31.

The pencils are 60 centimeters high and have a diameter of 10 centimeters. The inner opening is also 30 centimeters square. Pencils usually have six sides, but the priest must have been divinely inspired to make these with five. The word for passing a test in Japanese is gokaku, with a slightly elongated o sound. Make the o sound shorter, and the word can mean “five angles”.

It might not be so easy for some women—or bigger students—to pass through those torii, but it’s got to be easier than a camel passing through the eye of a needle on the way to heaven!

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For more on the subject, see Gabi Greve’s piece at this Japanshrinestemples blogspot here.

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Passing through to the other side at Awashima Jinja in Kumamoto (source: www.city.uto.kumamoto.jp)

 

Some mini-torii are just too small even for a Japanese to climb through! (Fushimi Inari in Kyoto)

 

A young woman about to cut off a bad relationship by passing through the hole in the stone at Yasui Konpira-gu

 

Passing through a bit more than the eye of a needle at the base of one of the massive pillars in Nara's Todai-ji

Animal rights (dolphins)

The Japan Times carried an excellent editorial the other day, speaking out against the inhumane slaughter of dolphins at Taiji. This is defended by nationalists like prime minister Shinzo Abe as a Japanese tradition. So at various times was infanticide, slavery, and a samurai’s right to chop off necks – one wonders whether Abe would like to revive those too.

Where does Shinto stand on this? The issue has brought worldwide condemnation of Japan, but why don’t we hear the voices of Shinto priests on this issue? As the Japan Times article says, “Japan has another tradition, one of deep respect for nature and the creatures in it.”

It’s high time for Shinto to rediscover its affinity with nature and put its mouth where its heart claims to be.  Compassion for animals should be at the very centre of its agenda.

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Defend dolphins, not a ‘tradition’
FEB 1, 2014  Japan Times editorial

In mid-January, somewhere between 250 and 500 dolphins were driven into the cove near Taiji, a small town in western Japan made famous in the award-winning film, “The Cove.” There, at least 100 of the dolphins were slaughtered for their meat. Others were packed up and sold to aquariums.

The dolphins are herded, butchered and sold every year, but this year, the Sea Shepherd Conservation Society, together with CNN news uploaded videos of the dolphin hunt. The video, available online, is not for the faint of heart. Despite claims of humane killing methods, the video shows the fishermen hacking into the heads and backs of the panicked dolphins, then leaving them to bleed to death, turning the entire cove bright red.

Photo courtesy Michael D Sellers

Prime Minister Shinzo Abe defended the practice in an interview with CNN and Chief Cabinet Secretary Yoshihide Suga told reporters at a news conference that marine mammals including dolphins were “very important water resources.” Suga insisted “Dolphin fishing is one of the traditional fishing forms of our country and is carried out appropriately in accordance with the law.”

Their argument that the force of tradition justifies the herding, capturing and slaughtering of dolphins is a flimsy one. Many past cultural practices, such as slavery, bordellos and beheading were stopped for ethical reasons. Tradition and culture are forces that change in accordance with new scientific understanding and evolving ethical standards. In addition, the Taiji hunt didn’t even become institutionalized on a large scale until 1969, so its roots are quite shallow.

Their argument that the slaughter adheres to principles of the law is equally questionable. Veterinarians and behavioral scientists who viewed the covertly recorded video contend that the killing method used in this year’s Taiji dolphin hunt would not be permitted in any slaughterhouse in the developed world.

Indeed, it is open to question whether the method would be acceptable if used to slaughter cows or other livestock in Japan.

Japanese law states that all methods of killing livestock should reduce the animals’ suffering as much as possible. The method of sending “fishermen” into the water with knives to stab the dolphins, clearly evident in the video, does not begin to meet that guideline. The desperate flailing of the wounded animals and the long time it takes them to die go against the accepted animal welfare standards employed in advanced societies.

Japan has already stopped invasive research and other harmful practices on species such as chimpanzees. Intelligent animal species have always held a special closeness to humans because of their intelligence, capacity for suffering and complex social relations. Dolphins are even known to commit suicide when distressed or confused.

Japan has another tradition, one of deep respect for nature and the creatures in it. That tradition would be much easier to defend. The dolphin hunt is an inhumane practice that should be stopped.

Setsubun – why beans?

Demons and beans are what Setsubun is all about - but why?

 

February 3 is Setsubun when Japanese mark the seasonal break and look forward to the coming of spring.  In Japan’s old lunar calendar, taken from the Chinese, it used to be associated with the New Year which took place around this time.  It’s deeply syncretic, celebrated at both temples and shrines alike.

The main activity at Setsubun is bean-throwing, the idea being that you throw beans at wicked demons to banish them for the coming year.  ’Oni wa soto, fuku wa uchi,’ (Out with the demons, in with happiness) is the accompanying cry.  But why beans?  What on earth do beans have to do with demon disposal?

An article in the Japan Times had a full page spread all about Setsubun and the food connection.  History, types, recipes – it was a true feast of Setsubun fare.  The extract below is taken from it, and the full article by Makiko Itoh can be read here.

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On Setsubun, each household loads up asakemasu, the wooden box in which sake is sometimes served, with roasted daizu, or soybeans. Then the head of the household (or a male in the household whose Chinese zodiac animal matches that particular year) throws handfuls of beans outside of the front entrance while chanting, “Oni wa soto, fuku wa uchi” (“Demons outside, good luck inside”).

Packet of lucky beans for throwing at home from Yasaka Jinja in the geisha district of Gion

Sometimes the rest of the household chants along, “Gomottomo, gomottomo” (“That’s right, that’s right”) as he performs this task; some, especially the kids, play the part of oni by donning paper masks and running from the bean-thrower. This ritual is called mamemaki, or the scattering of beans. Afterward, everyone eats the same number of roasted beans as their age for luck.

(In the north and some parts of the south, peanuts are used instead, probably because they are cheaper and more convenient.)

These days, local temples and their priests perform mamemaki, especially in densely populated urban areas. Perhaps this is for practical reasons: A whole apartment block of people throwing soybeans might be a bit messy. The more likely reason is that the father of any given family is too busy working to be scattering beans, since Setsubun is not an official public holiday.

But why throw roasted soybeans? In Japanese folklore, beans of all types are considered to be symbols of good luck. Stewed kuromame (black beans) are served as part of the New Year’s osechi feast as a symbol of fertility, and osekihan (short-grain mochi rice with adzuki beans that is a bright reddish purple) is a festive dish at many events throughout the year.

But the use of roasted soybeans for mamemaki is a bit more complicated. Raw soybeans are hard and long-lasting and impossible to eat, just as an oni (demon) or evil is hard to get rid of. But by roasting the beans with fire, they are conquered and become edible — and imbued with special powers. So the throwing of the beans symbolizes the throwing out of evil spirits, and eating them means the person has conquered and digested those demons. It’s a bit complicated, but I’m sure it made a lot of sense to the people of old.

One enormous ehomaki about to be devoured - but in which direction is the key question.

Mamemaki and soybeans are not the only lucky food associated with Setsubun. One that has become very popular in the last decade is the ehōmaki. Each person takes an uncut fat sushi roll, faces the ehō or lucky direction (this changes annually; this year it’s east-northeast), and eats the whole roll in silence. This is supposed to bring good luck to that person for the rest of the year.

The ehōmaki tradition originated in the Osaka area but has spread around the country, mainly due to some convenience store chains heavily promoting the sushi rolls, filling the marketing lull before the big chocolate rush of Valentine’s Day.

Yet another food associated with setsubun is iwashi (sardines). In some regions of Japan, a whole sardine is skewered through the eyeballs on a holly branch, then grilled and displayed outside the house. Sardines are used because they are “blue” fish containing lots of oil, which when grilled emits smoke — believed to ward off evil. Piercing the eyes with the holly, which is considered a sacred plant, symbolizes the piercing of an oni‘s eyes, incapacitating it and making it unable to enter the house.

Occasionally the fish and holly branch are stuck into a knotted rope displayed outside the main entrance. Dried soybean pods are hung with the fish too in some regions. But in some households the bulk of the fish is eaten as part of a Setsubun meal and only the pierced head is hung outside. When my mother was growing up, she and her brothers and sisters would hang the fish heads under the outside porch, since the open underside of their traditional Japanese house was believed to be particularly vulnerable to attacks by evil spirits. Invariably the neighborhood cats would come to make a feast of the fish heads, so they were usually gone by the next day.

A red devil terrorises the locals at Rozanji Temple in Kyoto

 

Bean throwing at Heian Jingu, when geisha too get in on the act

 

Bean throwing at Shimogamo Jinja, complete with Kyoto Tower mascot

 

Maiko from nearby Gion leave the stage after participating in the bean-throwing at Yasaka Jinja in Kyoto

 

Setsubun yamabushi-style with a gomaki fire rite at Kyoto's Shogo-in

Nara Deer Call

The deer at Kasuga Taisha have the freedom to roam - and beg

 

Announcement of the Shika-Yose (Deer Call) in Nara Park, which begins today…

The Shika-Yose or Deer Call is a seasonal event of the ancient capital of Nara that first started in AD1892, whereby the sound of a natural horn is used to call out to the deer in Nara Park.

The deer in Nara Park are wild animals designated as a protected species. It was said that at the time the Kasuga Grand Shrine, a World Heritage Site, was first built, the god of Kashima Shrine came in a white deer when it was transferred to the new shrine. Since then, they have been revered as messengers of the gods and thus carefully protected.

The Shika-Yose will be conducted in an area known as the Tobihino in Nara Park. As the sound of the horn reverberates, the view of about a hundred deer appearing from deep within the forest is a splendid sight indeed.  Do come and enjoy a sight that can only be experienced in Nara in a Nara Park that is enveloped in the still and refreshing morning air of winter.

Date and Time: Feb 1 (Sat) – Mar 16 (Sun) 2014, From 10:00 am (about 15 minutes)
(*Except for Feb 3, 10, 17, 24 and Mar 3, 10)

Venue: Tobihino, within the grounds of the Kasuga Grand Shrine (south side of Kasuga Grand Shrine Sando)

Access: Take the city loop bus from JR / Kintetsu Nara Station and walk minutes from the Kasuga Grand Shrine Omote-sando bus stop, or 20 minutes walk from Kintetsu Nara Station.

 

The water basin honours the shrine's sacred animal, which the Buddhists at nearby Todaiji adopted too as a sacred animal in honour of Buddha's first sermon after enlightenment in the Deer Park at Benares, thus making the animal doubly blessed.

 

One happy deer grazing happily on sacred grass. Kasuga is noted for its lanterns, with 1000 hanging lanterns and 2000 stone lanterns. The total of approx. 3000 equals the number of its branch shrines,

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