Omoikane – Overcoming Numerous Difficulties with Wisdom by Prof. Kikuko Hirafuji, director of the Institute for Japanese Culture and Classics at Kokugakuin University (article originally printed in The Japan News)
*********** Japan’s oldest book, the Kojiki dramatically illustrates the history of Japan from the beginning of the world, the appearance of the deities, to the imperial succession. Behind each impressive episode, there exist numerous “mysteries” that are yet to be solved even today. By exploring each, we will think about the origin of Japanese beliefs and culture.
There are many deities that appear in Japanese myth, but there is one of supreme wisdom who served as the advisor to the other gods. This wise god is known as Omoikane. When Amaterasu became fearful of Susanoo’s violence and hid in the Heavenly Cave, the heavens and the earth fell into darkness and numerous disasters struck. The gods gathered in Ame-no-yasu-no-kawara and listened to the wisdom of Omoikane.
Takachiho site where the festival to lure Amaterasu out of her cave supposedly took place
Omoikane told them to make a rooster crow and hold a festival with a mirror and jewel they were to craft in front of the Heavenly Cave. Ame no uzume then danced naked, causing the gods to laugh uproariously, which led Amaterasu to open the door to the cave and finally step out. Omoikane saved the world with his brilliance.
Omoikane also was involved when Amaterasu needed to decide upon a messenger to send to demand that Okuninushi hand over of the Middle Lands of Ashihara. Attempts to decide on a messenger had failed twice, but the third time, thanks to advice from Omoikane, they selected Takemikazuchi. He was able to push forward the stalled negotiations, and Okuninushi eventually relinquished his claim to the Middle Lands of Ashihara.
Amaterasu’s Trusted Genius
The name Omoikane likely means “he who brings together the thoughts of the myriad deities.” In other words, he represents the wisdom of many gods. Amaterasu decided to send Omoikane with Hononinigi when he descended to the Earth. Omoikane was heavily relied upon to effect Amaterasu’s reign. She sent this tried-and-true god along with her grandchild to the Earth in order to govern this world skillfully.
Kagura featuring Ninigi no mikoto, grandson of Amaterasu who descended to earth
It may seem odd that even the greatest god may fail and need to rely on other deities. This misunderstanding may come if one equates the gods of Japanese myth with the kind of god seen in monotheistic religions such as Judaism and Christianity. In these religions, there is only one god that is all-knowing and all-powerful. For this reason, even in the Hebrew Bible (Old Testament) and New Testament, there are no stories of God consulting with other gods or wise men when he is troubled. A wise being becoming counselor to the highest god is perhaps something not often seen outside of a polytheistic belief system.
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Kokugakuin University has been selected “as a place for the promotion of the study of the Kojiki” by the private university branding project of the Ministry of Education in 2016.
The following is taken from an academic paper entitled Power Spots and the Charged Landscape of Shinto by Caleb Carter, assistant professor at Kyushu University. First published in the Japanese Journal of Religious Studies in 2018, the article considers the popularity of the ‘power spot’ phenomenon contrasted with the scepticism of the Jinja Honcho orthodoxy. I think it’s fair to say that Togakushi Shrine is a shining example of Shinto’s sacralisation of nature, surrounded by woods and lush greenery fed by sparkling streams.
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Entry into the world of nature
Togakushi Jinja offers one example of a Shinto site that has been recently reinterpreted as a power spot. Situated in the mountains of northern Nagano Prefecture, the shrines lie just to the southwest of the jagged ridgeline of the peak bearing the site’s name. There are five shrines in total, three of which are fully staffed and operational. In the Edo period, Togakushi served as a jikimatsu of the Tendai institution, placing it directly under the head temple of Kan’eiji (in Edo). It was staffed by fifty-three cloisters and managed by a chief administrator who was dispatched from either Kan’eiji or Hieizan. At the start of the Meiji period, the Tendai priests and yamabushi (practitioners of Shugendo) of the site were compelled under government directives to cease all Buddhist activities and convert to Shinto or change professions.
The newly designated shrines joined the nascent, state-sanctioned order of Shinto and were classified as kokuheishōsha, a distinguished rank that implied the site’s allegiance and tribute to the emperor and country. Today, Togakushi remains a Shinto site and is affiliated with Jinja Honchō, though there is an active interest among its clergy to revive aspects of its historical roots in Buddhist-Shinto-Shugendo combinatory practices.
Visitors line up at Chūsha (Togakushi) to pray on a summer weekend. The large cedar on the left and small waterfall in the far right are treated by many as power spots. (Photograph by Caleb Carter.)
Its reputation as a power spot has drawn many new outside visitors. According to residents with whom I spoke, this began with Ehara Hiroyuki, who published an extensive account of his visit to Togakushi in 2006 in his Spiritual Sanctuary series, claiming it to be a “sacred place of overwhelming power” with “especially high levels of energy”. Since Ehara’s endorsement, the number of visitors to Togakushi has steadily increased. While there was no significant jump directly following his visit, prefectural statistics show that the annual average of 1 million visitors to the region rose to 1.2 million in 2010 and again to 1.6 million in 2015 and 2016.
While a variety of factors account for this increase (including the Ancient Shinto trend), Togakushi’s notoriety as a power spot remains a major influence. Visitors drawn by this recent designation carry out many of the practices typical of those at an ordinary shrine, making it difficult, if not problematic, to distinguish between types of patronage.
Power spot enthusiasts continue to pray and make offerings at each haiden, talk about the kami, and observe general shrine etiquette. Nevertheless, certain patterns in behavior and language suggest common orientations in the power spot phenomenon. It is first evident in the heightened level of attention and reverence paid to particular natural objects like trees, stones, and waterfalls.
While the entire region of Togakushi is often said to be a power spot, a number of tall cedars and a small waterfall next to the main shrine of Chūsha stand out as especially popular. These objects have long been designated as sacred by the shrine (evident in the shimenawa ropes and shide strips of paper demarcating them), but their new designation has elevated their status among visitors.
Following prayers at Chūsha, visitors often stand before the waterfall, sometimes with palms facing outward. Many also lay their hands on the trunks of the large trees. I was told by older residents that this practice dates back as far as they can recall but that it has substantially increased under the power spot phenomenon. As for the basis of this power, visitors often describe it simply as an “energy” (enerugi ) that facilitates rejuvenation, purification, and healing. It is sometimes associated with the kami but more often attributed broadly to the earth and surrounding natural elements.
If visitors to Togakushi are entranced by the idea of the shrine’s qualities as a power spot, priests and residents of the village do not appear particularly perturbed by it. One male priest in his sixties reasoned that if one understands the kami as a source of power, the notion of Togakushi as a power spot is entirely conducive. The site, after all, is endowed with many local deities. Another priest (a man in his eighties) took a similar stance: as a local historian of Togakushi, he found the idea consistent with historical views of the mountain as a place of numinous power.
Nonclerical residents similarly associated this power with the kami or, more broadly, the natural landscape. There is also a positive economic side to the site’s new reputation. Like many rural communities, Togakushi Village has long struggled with a decreasing population and an aging community. Aiming to stave off further decline, regional municipalities around the country have been enacting policies, toted as gurīn tsūrizumu (green tourism), since the 1990s that promote domestic tourism. The issue became a national priority in 2008 under the newly conceived Japan Tourism Agency.
Togakushi residents themselves have long been aware of these downward trends. The new reputation of their shrines is welcomed by many. The Toga-kushi Tourism Association has made power spot pilgrimage a centerpiece of its campaigning efforts. In 2017 it promoted taxi tours featuring the region’s power spots on its official website. Users of the website could book a tour of Zenkōji, Togakushi, and nearby Akakura Onsen that combined cuisine, hot springs, and “encounters with the power of the gods” (kami no pawā o fureru). The Togakushi portion included access to all five shrines along with a lunch of soba noodles (the area’s famous dish) at one of the village’s restaurants.
Apart from the activities of the Tourism Association, local business owners have taken individual initiative.The façade of one gift shop just outside the torii at Chūsha was plastered with signs advertising “power stones” (pawāsutōn ) when I visited in 2015. As residents themselves, the priests also benefit from the overall uptick in tourism. Many of them are inn proprietors, descending from families who historically operated shukubō, or lodges that hosted confraternities (kō) centered on the worship of Togakushi’s buddhas, bodhisattvas, and local deities. With that baseline of support steadily shrinking, most have now opened their establishments to the public as inns. The rise in new visitors has, no doubt, helped to fill more rooms, as one priest informed me. It should be noted that the reception by priests to the notion of Togakushi as a power spot should be interpreted as a private view. The shrines do not overtly endorse the idea.
Indeed, their official publications, including books, newsletters, and fliers, do not mention the term “power spot.” That said, hints of implicit approval occasionally emerge. In 2015 I purchased a playful stamp foldout at Chūsha that centered on the “three great power spots of northern Shinano.” Alongside Togakushi, it featured the neighboring Iizuna Shrine and the temple of Zenkōji in Nagano City, a nod to their historical connections and sign of continued coordination. Echoing the sentiment of the priests with whom I spoke, the cartoon imagery represents the power of the three sites through their respective deities. In addition to this souvenir, subtle endorsements sometimes appear on the shrines’ official website under its “news” headlines. In the summer of 2017, these included one hyperlink connecting to a guidebook to Japan’s power spots and another to a popular blog on power spots, both of which featured Togakushi.
Reactions from the clerical community at Togakushi were largely consistent with my findings at other shrines. A middle-aged female shrine attendant at Takachiho Jinja noted that the shrine neither promotes nor rejects its reputation as a power spot. In a separate conversation, one of its younger priests elaborated on this stance with his own take: the shrine lends itself to multiple interpretations, power spots included. As such, he welcomes power spot seekers and does not find the concept to be necessarily wrong or misguided. That said, he prefers a more expansive definition for the site—one that does not cling too narrowly to a specific set of terms and discourse.
I received a similar response from a priest of nearby Heitate Jingū, a village shrine located in central Kyushu that has received national attention in recent years as a power spot. When I asked him if the shrine was a power spot, he replied with a twinkle in his eye that he doesn’t know (Wakaranai…) —a response that leaves the door open for flexibility on the issue. He then offered his own interpretation: those who come to his shrine to “receive power” (pawā o itadaku) should later reciprocate by engaging in work that will benefit others.
The most unease I encountered—excepting Ise—came from a young male priest at Aso Jinja, located in the Aso Caldera of central Kyushu. He too did not oppose the idea of power spots and felt grateful for the increased number of visitors it brought. That said, he expressed some annoyance with those who rushed in and out of the shrine, consumed primarily by its status as a power spot and uninterested in further engaging with it.
While his feelings are probably shared by others in the Shinto clergy, the general impression I received was twofold: one, the reputation as a power spot contributes to the overall economic well-being of communities otherwise facing long-term downward trends; and two, the idea of the power spot is viewed as compatible with long-standing notions about the power of the kami. These responses represent local economic and religious concerns that, for the most part, Jinja Honchō has not given significant weight.
******************** For more on power spots by Caleb Carter, explaining the development of power spots in Japan, click here. For a previous posting on Togakushi, see here.
Back from an extended summer vacation, I found at home in Kyoto an intriguing A4 size envelope awaiting me from my old friend Joseph Cali. Inside was an attractive thin package announcing itself as a Kamidana (Shinto altar).
Looking at it, I could see the makings of a cardboard shrine, a paper ofuda (talisman), a bell with string attached, and even a fold-out collection box. It all looked most appealing. “Instructions for set-uo and use, on the back panel,’ it announced. So I turned it over….
‘Portable, mailable, and easy to use,’ it announces. ‘A simple and elegant support for your Ofuda at home or away.’ There were pictures too of how to assemble the shrine in an easy 4-step set-up. Eager to see how it works, I set about setting up the house shrine.
Ringing the bell to call the kami (pic courtesy Cali)
With the bell and collection box in place, however, there still remained a couple of important items. One of course was the paper ofuda, which is to be placed against the front. The other less visible item was a wish paper called ‘negaibumi’ which is placed inside the shrine.
This clever piece of craftsmanship owes itself to the collaboration of a Japanese designer with an American who has great expertise in Shinto matters, namely the author of Shinto Shrines, Joseph Cali. He not only has ties with Jinja Honcho, but for his book published by the Uni of Hawaii Press he visited and met with priests from over 60 major shrines. Here is what he has to say by way of introduction to the product.
Most readers know that a kamidanaor “God Shelf” is a small, Shinto altar for the home, office, or place of work.Usually made of wood and attached to a wall near the ceiling it was once ubiquitous in Japan. However, these days, when most people live in apartments, where attaching anything to the wall is restricted, move frequently, or live away from home for long periods of time due to work requirements, the kamidana has all but disappeared. Still, many people frequent the local shrine, particularly at New Year’s, and purchase ofuda for the home, then have no place to properly keep them. For people in these situations, as well as for foreign visitors with a keen interest in Shinto, the Portable Kamidana Jinja is an excellent solution.
Simply follow the easy instructions to unfold the kamidana, and set it up in on a shelf or cabinet. No tape or glue needed. Then place your ofuda in the position provided. Now you are set to offer a silent prayer to the kami and receive its blessings. If you would like to send the Portable Kamidana Jinja as a gift, it slips conveniently into an A4 size envelope. You can also collapse the Kamidana and reset it any number of times.
The Portable Kamidana makes an excellent gift as well. Made of heavy weight paper and beautifully printed, it presents a formal appearance appropriate to the task of supporting the ofuda. Please keep in mind that the sample provided with the kamidana, is not an actual ofuda, and should not be displayed. Also note that some ofuda may be very long and not easily supported. The sample ofuda depicted here is 190mm tall but up to 250mm is fine.
The Portable Kamidana Jinja costs 2,500 yen plus 200 yen tax (price includes shipping within Japan). You can pay through paypal internationally or furikomi within Japan. For further information or orders, contact hitsugi101@yahoo.com.
(Taken from the excellent Shinto Shrines of Japan: The Blog Guide. http://shintoshrinesofjapanblogguide.blogspot.com/). The blog is an accompaniment to Shinto Shrines: A Guide to the Sacred Sites of Japan’s Ancient Religion, published by Univ of Hawaii Press, 2013.
Japanese festivals occur throughout the year around the country, bringing people and communities together to pray for bountiful harvests, celebrate special holidays, and honor local deities.
At the center of many festivals is the mikoshi, a portable shrine that gets paraded around the area on carts or on the shoulders of residents. And while many locals take part in the festivities, not everyone gets to experience what it’s like to hoist a heavy mikoshi up on their shoulders. Our writer Ahiruneko was one of those people, who, despite being 33 years of age, had never once carried a portable shrine around town.
Luckily for Ahiruneko, though, his chance to step in as a mikoshi carrier came to him this year, when one of his friends, who regularly takes part in festivals, invited him to join in. The first rule of being a mikoshi carrier is that you can’t do it in civilian clothes, though, so Ahiruneko headed out to a nearby store to get fitted out in the appropriate attire.
Different groups in various regions wear different styles of festival gear, so his friend gave him a list of what would be required: white tabi split-toed boots, a white shirt and pants, waistband, and a patterned bag.
When the day of the festival arrived, Ahiruneko was dressed and ready for his responsibilities, complete with the group’s happi festival coat, which his friend had ordered for him.
The festival Ahiruneko was taking part in was the Suga Jinja Reitaisai, which translates as Suga Shrine Regular Grand Festival. Fans of the smash hit anime film “your name.” will know Suga Shrine as one of the film’s most famous real-life locations, where the two main characters cross paths on a staircase near the shrine.
The annual festival takes place in Tokyo’s Yotsuya Ward, where the shrine is located, and on the day of the event there were crowds of participants and onlookers surrounding the mikoshi.
A number of local neighborhoods had come together to help transport the deity on its golden palanquin throughout the town. Positions at the front of the palanquin appeared to be the most coveted, with people advised to switch positions with others in rotation to ensure that nobody would get too fatigued.
As the festivities got under way, the palanquin rose from its standing position, picked up by a mass of people underneath it, and the sound of chanting broke out as the group stepped forward in time together, jangling the golden bells on the portable shrine.
The people underneath the holy shrine seemed to know exactly what they were doing, confidently calling out while expertly carrying the large planks on their shoulders. As a first-timer, Ahiruneko began to feel a little intimidated by this show of strength and wondered if he shouldn’t have agreed to take part, but at that moment his friend grabbed him and pulled him towards the moving mikoshi, setting him underneath one of the large wooden planks.
And then, suddenly, Ahiruneko found himself doing the thing he’d never done before. He was now helping to carry the mikoshi!
The wooden plank on his shoulder was heavy, and the jostling with so many others in such a small space reminded him of a mosh pit. And like a mosh pit, it was strangely thrilling.
It wasn’t long before the first person in line gave up their position, and then it was time for Ahiruneko to take the lead. This meant he had to switch from holding the plank on his shoulder to holding it on the back of his neck with both hands.
The calls and chants differed according to the area, and when he was at the front, Ahiruneko found himself calling out “Oisaa! Hoisaa!!” with all the others in the group. These calls created a great sense of camaraderie between everyone, and by the time the event was over, and everyone gathered to say their farewells, Ahiruneko felt like he had just become a part of something much bigger than himself.
Our writer was incredibly grateful for the experience, and although it cost him roughly 10,000 yen all up to buy the outfit to take part in the event, it was worth every yen.
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There are many opportunities for foreigners to participate in matsuri, particularly in rural regions where the number of strong young people may be insufficient. Here’s an invitation to carry a mikoshi at a matsuri in Tokyo (late May).
For another description of what it’s like for a foreigner to take part in a matsuri, please see here.
Here’s some useful advice from a Japanese involved with organising matsuri…
How can a foreigner enter a Matsuri as a participant?
Sasagawa: In the area you are living in / where the Matsuri will be, you must go to the local elders, traditional shops or the town council, Chôkai 町会, and tell them that you are interested. If they are fine with it, you get on the list.
Tulip: How about the traditional clothing all participants wear? Do you just buy any?
Sasagawa: You must wear clothing, like a uniform, from the very area sending you there. A Happi or Hanten (the jacket he wears in the pictures) for sure. They differ from place to place due to the symbols of the area or group on the back. Also dark shorts, Tabi and a headband.
Every day, apart from when it’s raining heavily, Dr Qing Li heads to a leafy park near the Nippon Medical School in Tokyo where he works. It’s not just a pleasant place to eat his lunch; he believes the time spent under the trees’ canopy is a critical factor in the fight against diseases, of the mind and body.Once a month Li spends three days in forests near Tokyo, using all five senses to connect with the environment and clear his mind. This practice of shinrin-yoku – literally, forest bath – has the power to counter illnesses including cancer, strokes, gastric ulcers, depression, anxiety and stress, he says. It boosts the immune system, lowers blood pressure and aids sleep. And soon it could be prescribed by British doctors.
It is believed that time spent under the green canopy is critical in fighting a number of diseases and conditions. Photograph: Murdo MacLeod/The Observer
Last week the Woodland Trust suggested forest bathing – which doesn’t, despite its name, involve getting in water – should be among a range of non-medical therapies and activities recommended by GPs’ surgeries to boost patients’ boost well-being. ‘Social prescribing’ is a growing movement in the NHS, can include volunteering, gardening, sports activities, cookery and befriending.
“Forest bathing is an opportunity for people to take time out, slow down and connect with nature. We think it could be part of the mix of activities for social prescription,” Stuart Dainton of the Woodland Trust told the Observer. “Evidence about its benefits is building.”
Shinrin-yoku was developed in the 1980s in Japan. Although people had been taking walks in the country’s forests for centuries, new studies showed that such activity could reduce blood pressure, lower cortisol levels and improve concentration and memory. A chemical released by trees and plants, called phytoncides, was found to boost the immune system. As more research highlighted the benefits of shinrin-yoku, the Japanese government incorporated it into the country’s health programme.
Li – now president of the Society for Forest Medicine in Japan, and the author of Shinrin-Yoku: The Art and Science of Forest Bathing – is a world expert and has conducted numerous studies. “It’s a preventative medicine, not a treatment,” he told the Observer. People spend their lives increasingly indoors, he said. About 80% of Japan’s population lives in urban areas, and the average American now spends more than 90% of their time indoors. But we are designed to be connected to the natural world, to “listen to the wind and taste the air”.
‘Forest bathing is mindful time spent under the canopy of trees for health and wellbeing purposes.” Gary Evans, Forest Bathing Institute (photo Observer)
His book offers this advice for the practice of shinrin-yoku: “Make sure you have left your phone and camera behind. You are going to be walking aimlessly and slowly. You don’t need any devices. Let your body be your guide. Listen to where it wants to take you. Follow your nose. And take your time. It doesn’t matter if you don’t get anywhere. You are not going anywhere. You are savouring the sounds, smells and sights of nature and letting the forest in.”
Gary Evans, who set up the Forest Bathing Institute in the UK last year, said: “People initially think they’ve been doing this all their lives: going for a walk in the woods. But it might be a brisk walk, or you might be worrying about where the dog has got to. “A better way to frame forest bathing is mindful time spent under the canopy of trees for health and wellbeing purposes.”
The woods at Shimogamo Jinja in Kyoto offer a shining example of the work that Shinto shrines can do with their sacred groves
A typical session might last three hours, and begin with an explanation of the history and science of shinrin-yoku. “Then it’s about sensory exercises,” said Evans. “We try to hold people’s attention in the present moment, to give their bodies and minds a chance to slow down. We move very slowly, touching the trees, looking at colours and patterns, and breathing deeply. We end up lying down under trees and looking up through the branches.”
Shades of green and blue, the colours of the forest and the sky, were the most relaxing, he said. Looking at nature’s patterns helped to stop thoughts spinning in the head.
After a slow start, interest in forest bathing had taken off, Evans said. Officials from national and local government have made inquiries, and Evans addressed 40 doctors at Frimley Park hospital in Surrey last month on the benefits. GPs in the county have expressed interest in social prescribing of forest bathing. The Forest Bathing Institute is training people to become shinrin-yoku guides.
“The rocket ship has left the launch pad,” Evans said. “There is a growing recognition by the medical profession of the value of forest bathing. But we’re 40 years behind Japan. We need doctors and scientists here to start some studies on the physiological and psychological impact.”
One UK study, carried out by King’s College London and published in January 2018, found that exposure to trees, the sky and birdsong in cities improved mental wellbeing. The benefits were still evident several hours after the exposure.
“Even just 20 minutes can help, though 10 hours a month is even better,” said Dainton. “If you live in a city, you may not be able to get to a forest easily, but taking off your shoes in the park and feeling the grass will help you de-stress.”
A study of 585 Japanese people published last year said that city dwellers were “constantly exposed to stressors” and that “urban living is associated with increased risk of health problems”, including anxiety, depression and psychosis.
It concluded: “The psychological benefits of walking through forests are very significant … Urban planners should pay more attention to maintaining and increasing accessible greenery in urban areas. The beneficial effects of nature suggest a simple, accessible and cost-effective method to improve the quality of life and health of urban residents.”
Yuu Tsukinaga with an example of her spiritual art (all photos courtesy Kyoto Visitors Guide)
Kyoto Visitors Guide this month has an intriguing item about a young artist inspired by Shinto-Buddhist themes. A native of Kyoto, Yuu Tsukinaga found power in drawing buddhas when young, following which she spent time in Mexico where she developed a love of bright colours.
Her spiritual art has won wider attention, and she was invited to offer her paintings to Kashihara Jingu in Nara, supposedly the mythical site of Emperor Jimmu’s palace. Her paintings depicted Yatagarasu, the three-legged crow, and Kinshi, another imaginary bird that also guided Jimmu on his path of conquest to the homeland of Yamato.
To me, motifs inspired by Shinto and Buddhism have no preordained form. When I create my work, I feel I transfer a image or a symbol that enters into my mind onto a canvas. Therefore, I really have no sense that I actually ‘create’ te work as an expression of my own will, but I am just a medium with no sense of self who delivers the image or the message from somewhere.
Although I call myself a painter of ‘Shinto and Buddhist art’, I;m not intending to present any particular religious symbols and figures. What I feel through my art work is more primitive and fundamental, such as the sky, universe, my inner self and universal love which covers all existnece in this world. A magnificent presence which is invisible but certainly exists around us all.
I have learned iai-dou (way of the sword], sa-dou (tea ceremony) and ka-dou (flower arrangement). We have a variety of traditional ‘dou’ but no matter how many ‘ways to master’ we have and how different they are externally, I feel all ‘ways’ try to reach ‘the single same point.’
Large scale calligraphy during the dedication ceremony at Kashihara Jingu
Tenchi Kaibyaku – The Beginning of Heaven and Earth
Extract from Fujin-Raijin, deity of Wind and Thunder
Following on from the theoretical research into Japan’s mythology in the last posting, exciting news comes of a new venue for theatrical performances of the main myths. The recently opened Osaka kagura space (Iwami Kagura Naniwakan) is putting on stage shows every weekend. Here’s a report from the Kansai Scene magazine…
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Deities, demons, and Japan’s myths and legends come to life in Osaka’s new kagura stage show.
Billows of smoke create an otherworldly atmosphere as four fire-breathing serpents known as orochi, each measuring an impressive 17 meters when fully uncoiled, slink and slither across the stage in time with the music. Taiko drums are pounded rhythmically in unison with the iconic sounds of the Japanese bamboo flute as the four orochi square off against Susano-o a Japanese deity and this tale’s larger-than-life hero.
Even for Susano-o—the Shinto god of sea and storms—defeating the red-eyed multi-headed serpent with a body that, according to legend, extends over eight hills and eight valleys, is a formidable task. In an expertly choreographed scene at Osaka’s newly opened theater, the Iwami Kagura Naniwakan, the hero uses guile and expert swordsmanship (with a little help from some very strong sake) to evade the crushing coils of the serpent. With powerful blows, he eventually decapitates each of the heads one-by-one much to the elation of the crowd.
Fire-breathing serpents known as orochi as depicted as part of a play at the Iwami Kagura Naniwakan in Osaka. Photo: Jason Haidar
This play, entitled Orochi, is one of the most popular stories belonging to Japan’s oldest traditional performing art, kagura, which translates as “god entertainment.” Of the Japanese performance arts like noh, bunraku, rakugo, and kabuki, kagura might just be the most colorful and high-energy of them all, despite perhaps being the least known. Originating in local pockets of provinces on Japan’s island of Kyushu, the Iwami Kagura Naniwakan theater group has this year brought it to audiences in Osaka.
Origins and History
Kagura is believed to have originated from the Amano-Iwato “cave of the sun goddess” myth, which is recorded in Japan’s oldest historical record Kojiki written around 1,300 years ago. In the tale, the sun goddess Amaterasu takes refuge in a cave plunging the world into darkness because of her brother Susano-o’s (the aforementioned hero) bad behavior towards her. It wasn’t until the goddess of dawn, mirth, and revelry Ame-no-Uzume got all the other gods laughing, through music and a comical dance, that Amaterasu was coaxed out of hiding so that her light would grace the world once again. Kagura is one of a number of rituals and arts said to derive from this mythical event.
The always-cheerful god of fishing and good fortune Ebisu. Photo: Jason Haidar
Kagura aims to tell simple stories, such as heroes defeating demons, that draw from the myths and legends of Japan. It also celebrates beloved characters like the always-cheerful god of fishing and good fortune Ebisu, who, in the plays where he is featured, often throws “bait” in the form of candy into the audience as he prepares to catch a fish.
The origins of these myths and characters share similarities with the pagan gods of Greek mythology; they were a way for humans to explain the world around them. Demons were thought to cause droughts, floods, and prayers were offered to the gods to keep misfortune at bay. Likewise, the gods were believed to favor your harvest or bless you with a good haul of fish if they were appeased.
The older and more ritualistic form of kagura, known as mikagura, is still performed to this day at special places of importance, such as the Imperial Court, by shrine maidens who are said to be descended from the goddess Ame-no-Uzume. The more theatrical offshoot is known as sato kagura (village kagura) and is a staple in local communities in regions of Japan like Shimane and Hiroshima prefectures.
A Community Staple
Arguably, the most popular of these village styles is Iwami Kagura, which originated in a part of western Shimane formerly known as Iwami and is said to date back to the Muromachi period (1336–1573). In towns from the Iwami region like Tsuwano, Masuda, and Hamada, children typically begin formal training in kagura around 12 years of age. Their immersion into this theatrical world, however, begins before they can even walk as they attend weekly rehearsals with their fathers and older siblings as toddlers. Like sports in some communities, or certain arts and crafts in others, kagura is the glue that binds these communities together and it is in small-town rehearsal rooms where these theatrical traditions are passed down from one generation to the next.
“Iwami Kagura is firmly rooted in Shimane,” says Mio Zaima, a Tsuwano school councillor and national-licensed tour guide in the region. “Despite aging and depopulation in these communities, the younger generation still shows great interest. The spirit of kagura is in all of us here.”
Village kagura performers are amateur in that they have other day jobs—firefighters, accountants, students, school teachers, and civil servants all act in kagura performances. But to the outsider, their performances are every bit as polished-looking as any professional theater troupe’s. The high energy dance routines and stunning costumes with elaborately detailed masks are what bring the stories of these Shinto myths and legends to life.
Masks and Costumes
There is an old Japanese saying that aptly fits with how kagura props and accessories are made: “The gods dwell in the details.” Everything from the masks and the orochi body down to the finest details of the costumes, which can weigh up to 20kg, are painstakingly handcrafted. Colorful, elaborate designs accented with gold and silver thread can take more than a year to complete with a price tag upwards of 2 million yen.
Master mask maker Kakita-san. Photo: Jason Haidar
Unlike noh masks that are carved from wood, most kagura masks are now made using the strongest paper in Japan, the UNESCO-listed sekishu washi, made locally in the region for over 1,300 years. “The lightweight yet strong properties of this paper make it the perfect material for the masks as kagura is intensely high-energy and lightweight masks make it easier for the performers to move around the stage,” explains self-taught master mask maker Katsuro Kakita. With his son Kenji Kakita from their Hamada atelier, he creates the vivid, striking, and sometimes haunting masks for many troupes in his local Shimane area as well as for Osaka’s new Iwami Kagura Naniwa theater.
It is from this same traditional paper that the fearsome orochi serpent is made just down the road from the Kakita mask studio in the Hamada workshop of Rinkichi Ueda, whose grandfather pioneered the design for the snake body over a century ago. The craftsman and his wife, who are both in their late 80s, make the serpent bodies by wrapping sekishu washi paper over carefully bent bamboo ribs. “This allows for the dynamic movement and flexibility that is needed in the orochi performance,” explains Ueda, whose serpents also feature in the new Osaka theater shows.
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Osaka’s Iwami Kagura Naniwakan opened last month and holds kagura performances on Fridays, Saturdays, Sundays and national holidays at 2pm and 5pm. Admission is ¥3,000.
