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Kojiki origins of the Japanese

September 18, 2012 / John D. / 0 Comments

In an article for The Daily Yomiuri, Naoki Matsumoto of Waseda University raises the question to his fellow countrymen of ‘When did we become Japanese?’ and goes on to answer his question with reference to the myths of the Kojiki (712) and Nihon shoki (720).

His thesis is that the Yamato polity integrated the myths and gods of those they conquered, much in the manner of ancient Rome. It’s hardly an original idea, but it does lead him to suggest that the ceding of Izumo by Ohonamochi to the Yamato led to the people there becoming ‘Japanese’. When exactly the ‘kuniyuzuri‘ took place is a matter of dispute, though it’s thought to be sometime in the fourth century, possibly around 380. Matsumoto appears to be saying this was Japan’s 1066 moment when the country as we know it had its beginning.

On the left is Inasa no Obama, or the Little Beach of Inasa (photo by Matsumoto). Ohonamochi aka Ookuninushi-no-Mikoto allegedly swore to cede control of his kingdom at this place, just near the Izumo Taisha shrine in Shimane Prefecture.

For the full and somewhat lengthy article, see here.

Hiraizumi

September 15, 2012 / John D. / 0 Comments

The all-year round chinowa at Hiraizumi's Hakusan Jinja

In recent days an observant reader may have noticed that I’ve posted entries on Shiretoko in Hokkaido, Shirakawa Sanchi in Aomori and now Hiraizumi also in Tohoku. What do they have in common?

The answer is that they are all World Heritage Sites. Japan has 16 in all, and I’m currently on a trip to visit them as part of my next book project. It’s a journey that is taking me from the northern parts of Hokkaido all the way down to Okinawa. But for the moment I’d like to concentrate on Hiraizumi.

Rise and fall of the Pure Land

Hiraizumi is all about the Pure Land, Amida’s Western paradise. The Buddhist deity made a vow that he would save all who believed in him, and the end of the Heian period saw an upsurge in devotion to his Pure Land. It was at this time, following a series of wars in the region, that Fujiwara no Kiyohira (1056 – 1128) set up a temple at Hiraizumi dedicated to the salvation of those who had perished in the fighting – regardless of to which side they belonged. Such was his attachment to Buddhism that he even included consideration for the souls of animals that had suffered in the fighting.

Over the next 100 years Kiyohira’s successors continued his vision of representing the beauty of the Pure Land. The result was a complex of villas and gardens built to the highest of aesthetic standards, such that the ‘Northern Capital’ came to rival Kyoto itself in terms of splendour.

It all came to a sad end after 1189 when the vindictive Kamakura shogun, Minamoto Yoritomo, turned on his half-brother Yoshitsune. The latter was seen as a potential rival, and he was forced to flee from Kyoto to the northern stronghold where he had personal connections. For a time he was shielded, but following the death of his protector he and his faithful companion Benkei were betrayed and killed by Yoritomo’s men. The shogun then ordered the destruction of the fiefdom that had stood up against him.

The site of Benkei's grave. He supposedly died defending Yoshitsune to the end, pierced with arrows.

Monument on the site of Yoshitsune's last residence, built on a small hill overlooking the countryside

View from Yoshitsune's last residence

Pure Land and Shinto
Advocates of the Pure Land are not noted for their Shinto sympathies, for the stress on submission to Amida leaves little room for dependence on other deities. But Tendai is an eclectic kind of sect, which embraces different forms of Buddhism including Pure Land and Zen meditation as well as esotericism and mountain asceticism. Hiraizumi was built in the twelfth century, before the split with the Pure Land sects, and it remains to this day a Tendai stronghold, Ever since its beginnings the sect had been sympathetic to the kami and a leading practitioner of syncretism. (Yoshitsune and Benkei, it’s worth noting, were Tendai men: Yoshitsune trained as a youth at Kurama Temple, north of Kyoto, and Benkei was a warrior-monk at the Tendai headquarters on Mt Hiei.)

The eto shrines at Hakusan Shrine, bearing animal pictures to denote the Chinese zodiac

Nowadays there are only the remains of the once glorious Hiraizumi heritage, but an enormous amount of research has been carried out on the settlements of former times. As a result it’s known that there were seven Shinto shrines at the time of its Pure Land glory.

One was the Hakusan Jinja, that predates the Tendai temples, and whose rebuilt modern counterpart still stands amidst the wooded precincts of Chuson-ji. As well as a wonderful Noh stage, I found it had a chinowa and a set of small eto shrines bearing animals to denote the Chinese horoscope. Both were unexpected.

‘Isn’t the chinowa usually for June?’ I asked the priest, who was in the shrine office doing some calligraphy.
‘Yes, but ours is for all the year.’ he answered without further elucidation.
‘The eto shrines are unusual,’ I ventured further. ‘I’ve only ever seen them before at Shimogamo Shrine. Are the ones here traditional, or have they been added in recent times?’
‘They are recent,’ he said. Since he clearly didn’t want to explain what had motivated their construction, I left him to continue with his calligraphy for I had other places to visit.

Torii lining the entrance way to the Takkoku temple

A cliffside temple
Ten minutes outside Hiraizumi, and not part of the World Heritage designation, is an eye-catching temple called Takkoku no Iwaya, founded in 801 by the imperial general, Sakanoue no Tamuraramo who subdued the ‘Northern barbarians’ known as the Emishi. It was built on stilts in the manner of Kiyomizu Temple in Kyoto, and set into the side of a small cliff. It’s a great example of just how syncretic Tendai can be.

Torii line the entrance to the temple. Ema are hung up for prayers. And a pamphlet invites people to pray by either clapping hands (Shinto style) or by holding their hands together silently (Buddhist style). The Buddhist deities are described in the kind of way you might expect of kami. Bishamon, for example, the principal deity, is said to invite happiness and to look kindly on those who pray for health, promotion or a good partner. Moreover, as a god of war he’s said to intercede forcibly on the petitioner’s side in conflicts.

Carving of a big Buddha set in the cliff face

Interestingly, the temple’s pamphlet says that Bishamon looks after those born in the year of the tiger; that Benten, also worshipped at the temple, is the patron of those born in the year of the snake; and that another temple figure, Fudo, protects those born in the year of the chicken. Does every year of the Chinese zodiac have their own Buddhist patron?

The head priest saw fit to finish off his pamphlet with a piece of political propaganda. In recent years, he said, the notion had arisen that Sakanoue was an agent of the central state based in Kyoto who had unjustly suppressed a local hero. This was far from the case, the head priest maintained, for in fact Sakanoue had acted as a liberating force who freed the people from an unjust regime which was making their life a misery. They had, and continue to have, every reason to be grateful to him.

From its foundation Tendai’s rationale has been to protect the interests of the imperial capital, and here in the twenty-first century it seemed the head priest was continuing to serve the cause. It was with a similar justification that according to mythology Jimmu embarked on his eastward passage of conquest to establish the fledgling Yamato state. Perhaps it’s no coincidence either that the Takkoku pamphlet was written about the very time that Bush and Blair were planning an illegal war for just the same kind of argument. It seems there’s a thin line indeed between intervention and imperialism.

Cliff temple of Takkoku no Iwaya, featuring here the raised platform of the Bishamon-do hall

Aomori delights

September 14, 2012 / John D. / 0 Comments

Nioga Falls near Hirosaki

Nioga Falls
Chance discoveries are always the most exciting for being unexpected. One such find on my exploration of the Shirakawa Sanchi World Heritage Site was the Nioga Falls. it lies on the way from Hirosaki City to the mountainous beech woods around Anmon Falls.

There was nothing remarkable about the simple red torii by the side of the roadway, so when I walked inside I expected to find a humdrum little wooden shrine. Imagine my surprise on finding a magnificent waterfall! And my surprise was deepened even more by the peculiar atmosphere of the place, with conspicuous Japanese flags and without the usual Shinto features.

Kukai, aka Kobo Daishi, guardian "deity" of the waterfall

As I walked around, I realised it must be a shugendo base of some kind. The waterfall was clearly set up for misogi, and the only shrine was to Kobo Daishi aka Kukai, the founder of Shingon Buddhism.

But what was with all the flags? Though I tried to find out more at the Shirakami Visitors Center situated not far away, they were only able to tell me about a festival held there in winter when the waterfall serves as a traditional means of fortune-telling. According to the local lore, when the waterfall freezes over the thickness of the ice signifies whether the coming year will produce a good harvest or not.

Bear territory
Another shrine to catch my attention was one called Kumano Jinja. Aomori is an area rich in folklore and belief, with a shrine round every corner. But as with nearly all the shrines I visited, there was no office open and sign of a priest (or anyone else for that matter). Presumably like other rural areas, the local shrines are suffering the consequences of depopulation, meaning that a single priest has to take care of some forty shrines or so.

Bear at Kumano Jinja

The name of the Kumano Shrine was written in the same way as those in the Kii Peninsula so I presumed it was a branch shrine. But there was one striking oddity. As well as the usual komainu guardians, the main building was guarded by two little black bears. It was a reminder, if one needed reminding, that this was bear territory. The strength and savagery of the animal was here harnessed in defense of the kami.

Personally I’d rather have a bear as an ally than a foe. The day before I’d come across a real black bear at Black Bear Waterfall, and my natural reaction was to panic, turn and run away…. just what you’re not supposed to do. Fortunately for me, however, the bear panicked, turned and ran away before I did, so I very happily paid my money at Kumano Shrine and gave thanks for whatever divine providence guides such things.

Horse business

A wayside shrine - but to which kami?

One of the wayside shrines I passed had a strong horse flavour about it, and I later noticed another with a similar horse statue. Someone had been very dutiful in placing a carrot in front of every single stone monument, yet it was unclear from the inscriptions what was special about the horse. Nor was there any indication of what kind of kami it might be serving. Indeed, there was not even a hokora (small shrine) for a kami. It was all very puzzling.

Unfortunately I wasn’t in the area long enough to follow up on the mystery, so it will have to wait for my next visit to this delightful part of the world. Perhaps it has something to do with Oshirasama, mentioned here, for a horse plays a prominent role in the legends about him.

Horses in general were very much associated with this part of the world, and viewed as valuable creatures to be presented to the high and mighty. Perhaps they were seen as not only fit to serve the kami as their bearers, but having some divine status in themselves… but here I have to say, my thoughts are galloping away with themselves….

Shinto tree ritual

September 13, 2012 / John D. / 1 Comment

Japan Today reports an unusual ritual carried out on a lone survivor of last year’s Tohoku tsunami. It must surely be a first: hard to imagine there’s any precedent!

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Tsunami ‘miracle pine’ cut down as part of project to preserve it
SEP. 13, 2012

A lone pine tree that stood as a symbol of hope in Japan, after surviving the huge tsunami that swept away a forest of 70,000, is being cut down in a bid to preserve it.

The tree, which came to be known as the “miracle pine”, will be sliced into pieces and treated before being put back together, in a process expected to cost about 150 million yen.

(photo by AFP)

A Shinto ritual was carried out on the pine before the delicate process began Wednesday on the shore at Rikuzentakata, a city badly hit by the March 2011 disaster.

“The process of cutting down could take two days or more, as we need to start cutting branches that can eventually be put back on the trunk,” city official Shinya Kitajima told AFP on Wednesday.

He said the trunk of the 27-meter tree will be divided into nine sections, which will be hollowed out and given anti-decay treatment before being reassembled using a carbon spine.

The whole preservation process will finish in February, the official said, and the tree will be put back where it was, on a spot that was previously a thick shoreline forest.

A Facebook page launched earlier this year soliciting donations towards the cost of preserving the pine had raised nearly 27 million yen by Monday, a city official said.

(photo by Asia One, Singapore)

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For a related story on the tree’s likely demise through sea water, see here.

Shirakami Sanchi (Aomori)

September 13, 2012 / John D. / 1 Comment

A distinctive style of shimenawa rope decorates this torii with what looks like a picture of a White Kami (Shirakami)

Virgin beech
For the past few days I’ve been touring Shirakawa Sanchi, a wonderful World Heritage Site featuring virgin beech forests covering a mountainous range in northern Tohoku. It’s given me a taste of life on the wild side. A night stranded in a broken-down car; a thunderstorm in the woods; and a close encounter with a black bear at Black Bear Waterfall (Kurokuma no Taki).

I’m writing this blog entry aboard the Resort Shirakami, a spacious tourist train that runs between Akita and Aomori along the western and northern sides of the National Park. The extra large windows afford views of the mountains to one side, and of the attractive rocky coast on the other. The sunset views are not to be missed.

Part of the coastline as seen from the train

In terms of Shinto, the area is as rich in folklore and wayside shrines as it is in apple trees and fresh-flowing streams. Two things stand out. One is that appreciation for the gifts of nature is particularly strong because of the clearly evident cycle of life.

The warm Tsushima Stream collides here with the cold of Siberia, resulting in a moist atmosphere that pours down buckets of rain on the mountains. (In winter the region has one of the world’s highest densities of snow,) The resulting rivers nourish an abundant wildlife before flowing back into the sea, while the ancient beech woods are home to a remarkable diversity of insect and plant life.

Another characteristic I’ve noticed is the oddity of some of the shrines. There are strange features, which reference obscure legends about which even the locals seem unclear. Some have flower and candle decoration – whether this has been adopted from Christianity or is a local characteristic, I’m not sure.

Tohoku was for long an isolated backwater and developed distinctive traditions of its own. It was even too remote for Basho, who travelled to the exotic ‘Deep North’ but never got anywhere near this far.

The White Kami
One of the puzzles I set out to solve was why the area is named Shirakami (White Kami). I thought perhaps it was something to do with snow, but had difficulty in tracking down information about it. Even the Visitors Centers were uncertain. It turns out the name is a recent invention, dating from when the area was put forward as a World Heritage candidate.

The new name resulted from opposition to the building of a major road, which would have cut through the virgin woods. Since the road bore the old name for the area, it was thought a new name would signify a fresh start to conserving the natural resource, befitting designation as a World Heritage Site. Shirakami was chosen in reference to an old kami of the region, Oshirasama.

The cult of Oshirasama was once strong in northern Tohoku, and from what I could gather legends about him centre around an unfortunate love affair involving a princess and a horse. It may have derived originally from worship of Hakusan (White Mountain) in Ishikawa, one of the country’s three sacred mountains along with Mt Fuji and Tateyama. According to the Kokugakuin encyclopedia…

Although Oshirasama is commonly viewed as a tutelary of agriculture and silkworm production, little agreement has been reached regarding the etymology of the name Oshira and the kami’s specific characteristics. The object of Oshirasama worship generally consists of a pair of sticks of mulberry (occasionally bamboo) about 30 cm long, with male and female faces (or a horse’s head) carved or painted in ink on one end. The images are clothed in layers of cloth called osendaku which are added to each year. Many old families enshrine Oshirasama on a kamidana or in the alcove of a main room, and they are also used as ritual implements by religious practitioners such as itako [mediums].

So there we have it… Shirakami Sanchi not only takes you into a world of outstanding natural beauty and wildlife diversity, but it plunges you into a remarkable world of ancient myth and custom, involving the shamanistic roots of ancient Shinto.

It’s well worth a visit!

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For pictures of Oshirasama dolls, see this page.

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A walk in the beech woods at Juniko, just outside the World Heritage core area

Village festival

September 9, 2012 / John D. / 0 Comments

Horse dancing in full style

I’m touring the delightful World Heritage Site of Shirakami Sanchi at the moment, noted for its mountainous virgin beech forests, in the northern part of Tohoku. On the way I happened to come across a festival near the World Heritage Center at Fujisato. The community likes to think of itself as a town, but it’s really a few villages cobbled together for administrative expediency. The festival is put on by the Asama Shrine and is known as Koma odori matsuri (Horse dance festival).

It started about 400 years ago when a Lord Satake was exiled by the Mito clan to this area (now the northern part of Akita prefecture). The lord was disgruntled at being sent away to such an isolated and uncivilised part of the world, so as consolation and to cheer him up his followers put on an entertainment in which they danced around as horses. It was such a success that it’s been continued every year since.

Some kind of animal, but are they lions or birds?

Before the horses got into their stride, there was a vigorous dance which I was told was a Shishi-mai. I’ve seen that many times before in the form of a long-maned Chinese-style shishi (lion), but in this case the dancers clearly had bird feathers on them and looked more like hawks. I couldn’t help wondering if this wasn’t some remnant of an ancient shamanistic dance, the origins of which had been lost in the mists of time, for it reminded me of a shaman’s crow dance I once saw in Siberia.

The festival takes place on September 8, when it’s usually pleasant weather in Tohoku. This year however the lingering summer heat made it unpleasant for those dancing – and even for those watching who couldn’t find shade. It must have been about 30 degrees, and the heavy costumes were clearly not meant for summertime prancing. Many of the young participants were suffering badly in the heat, desperate for a drink and in some cases wilting badly. I guess the festival this year helped towards deepening the spirit of gaman(endurance) which all the world noticed and applauded in the aftermath of the terrible Tohoku tragedy of last year!

The musicians were mainly female, in contrast to the manly horses

A horseman taking a puff before his turn. Some of the dancing was pretty vigorous...

... and some of the participants needed a big drink to cope with the heat.

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For a video with music of the dancing, see http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NDQtUSKIszw

Hokkaido (The road from Shiretoko)

September 9, 2012 / John D. / 0 Comments

Hokkaido
A couple of days ago I took a bus for two and a half hours from the Shiretoko peninsula across the north-east of Hokkaido. I didn’t spot a single shrine on the way, though curiously there was a small Russian orthodox church standing in the middle of nowhere. Interestingly, the area is closer to the Russian border than it is to the Shinto heartland in Honshu.

The countryside is so different from that of Honshu that I couldn’t help wondering whether the kami were alienated by the feel of the land, with its Western-style fields of wheat and extensive horse ranges. It seems the kami have a preference for domains on the lower slopes of thickly wooded hills, overlooking the rice fields.

On the other hand, Hokkaido was once home to the Ainu for whom the world was alive with spirits. Many of the names are Ainu in origin:: Shiretoko for instance means ‘the end of the land’. In the seas around the promintory lived ‘the deities of the deep’ ~ awe-inspiring creatures that rose to the surface to let off great jets of water before plunging down again with a final flip of their distinctive tails. And on land the fearsome bear spirit won the worship of the Ainu through its blood sacrifice each year to them. (There are now 200 brown bears on the peninsula, said to be one the highest densities in the world. I got to see seven of them in all.)

Hokkaido Jingu, an example of how imperial Shinto was spread for it was set up by order of Emperor Meiji in 1869.

Relocation
It’s been said that Shinto is rooted in the soil of Japan, and does not take kindly to relocation. When I visited Brazil, for example, I noticed that though Japanese Buddhism was alive and well in the emigrant community, the same could not be said for Shinto. One of the shrines in Sao Paolo had shut down, and the other was run by an elderly priest who told me he was concerned about its future survival.

Perhaps there is something of the emigrant experience about the adventurers who left for Hokkaido in the nineteenth century. They were pioneers in a new kind of land, yet Shinto is all about tradition and continuity. Trees and rocks are sacred because someone in the distant past decided it was. Festivals are celebrated because they’ve always been celebrated that way. Customs, legends and kami found justification simply by being handed down from the Age of the Gods.

In Hokkaido by contrast was a land filled with the folklore of the Ainu. Whatever else they might be, the Ainu were definitely not the sons of Yamato. Not Wajin at all. Their kami were not even proper kami, but kamui. It must have been unsettling for the settlers.

Nonetheless during the twentieth century shrines were set up, and communities developed festivals and customs of their own. It’s Japan’s largest prefecture and very much assimilated into the country as a whole. Though it still doesn’t have the feel of Shinto in Honshu and Kyushu, perhaps one day it will. And perhaps there is something to be learnt here about how Shinto can spread overseas…. after all, to Meiji-era Japanese, Hokkaido (then known as Ezo) was itself very much overseas.

Hokkaido scenery