Tag: Japan myths

The China connection (1)

March 29, 2020 / John D. / 2 Comments

Mt Takachicho in southern Kyushu
(photos by John Dougill)

Mythological mystery
There are many fascinating mysteries in Japanese mythology, and one in particular has intrigued Green Shinto for years. Why would the heavenly deities choose to descend on Mt Takachiho in the south of Kyushu? Out of the hundreds of mountains available to them, why choose that one? (The mountain should not be confused with the town called Takachiho in northern Miyazaki, which also claims mythological links.)

The question is all the more vexing given the standard interpretation that the present imperial lineage ‘descended’ from Korea across the Sea of Japan. The boat journey from Busan to Hakodate has some convenient islands along the way at which to stop and refuel, notably Tsushima and Ikijima, so one can easily imagine how in ancient times it offered a convenient means of passage into Japan.

But if the ancestors of the imperial family came by this route, why would the mythology have them arrive at the other end of Kyushu? It’s all the more strange when one considers that there are taller mountains in Kyushu, such as nearby Mt Karakunidake, from which it’s possible to see the Korean homeland (indeed, karakuni is an alternate reading of the kanji for Korea).

Kagura featuring Ninigi no mikoto who descended from heaven to land on Mt Takachiho

To find out more, I made a trip some years ago to Takachiho to investigate the tenson korin (heavenly descent by Amaterasu’s grandson Ninigi no mikoto). There’s a shrine at the base with flat land called Takachiho-gawara where Ninigi no mikoto is said to have arrived, though one presumes this is simply the convention of establishing shrines on the lower slopes of mountains onto which kami descend. (In this way the place of worship is not only made accessible to villagers, but the sacred mountain behind it offers a focus for prayer.)

When you climb Takachiho, which at one point has a narrow ridge with sheer drop, you find Ama no Sakahoko (heavenly spear), a trident stuck into the summit. According to legend, Ninigi no mikoto supposedly thrust the three-pronged spear into the ground on his arrival from heaven (Takamagahara). How long it’s actually been there no one seems to know for certain, though Sakamoto Ryoma mentioned it in letters in 1866. Nonetheless, the question remains as to what exactly prompted the heavenly deity to descend on this particular peak.

The spear known as Ama no Sakahoko at the summit of Takachiho (courtesy mapio.net)

Kuroshio
The first Europeans to step on Japanese soil arrived in 1543 in the form of two (possibly three) Portuguese merchants aboard a Chinese junk. The ship was making its way along the coast of China for trading purposes when it was blown off course by a vicious storm, during which it was badly damaged and no longer able to steer a course. Left to drift with the prevailing current, it was deposited in a welcoming bay in the island of Tanegashima. In this way, through the whims of the weather, history was made. (A model of the Chinese junk stands today on the headland where the boat was stranded.)

The bay in Tanegashima where the first Europeans arrived

The current that brought the Europeans to Japan is known as Kuroshio. It flows from the east coast of the Philippines, past Taiwan and along the east of Japan to merge into the North Pacific. It is to the Far East what the Gulf Stream is to Europe, sending a steady flow of relatively warm water northwards to dissipate in colder seas. In this way the west of Britain and the east of Japan benefit from clement conditions and an enriched marine life.

Six years after the arrival of the Portuguese merchants, Francis Xavier arrived in 1549. He had set out from Malacca on a Chinese junk, not particularly seaworthy, and the boat followed the Kuroshio current past Tanegashima into Kinko Bay in southern Kyushu to where the town of Kagoshima stands opposite the volcanic island of Sakurajima.

Painting of Xavier coming to convert the locals, accompanied by Japan’s first Christian known as Yajiro

Following in Xavier’s wake, I took the modern-day jetfoil from Tanegashima to Kagoshima. On the way it passes Cape Sata on the southernmost tip of Kyushu, and once round the headland there come calmer waters as the ship enters the long expanse of Kinko Bay, extending inland for twenty-five miles. Lined with rocky sides and wooded hills, it makes a welcoming backdrop to arriving boats, and in the distance at the end of the bay stands a large mountain – Mt Takachiho.

Given the position of the mountain, it seemed that here was an answer to the puzzle as to why the heavenly deities had picked out Takachiho. In ancient times boats setting out from the east coast of China would have been drawn by the Kuroshio current towards Kyushu and Kinko Bay. And if they had settled in the area, it would have been Chinese custom to take the ‘mother mountain’ as their tutelary guardian. Rather than ‘descending’ from Korea, the mythical incomers would have arrived from Eastern China.

Chamberlain’s translation of *The Kojiki* opened up the stories of Japanese mythology to foreigners such as Lafcadio Hearn

Mythological support
The mythical origins of Japan are set out in two books in the early eighth century, Kojiki (712) and Nihon shoki (720). By general consent, the former was a glorified piece of propaganda to provide emperors with divine status. The latter, with its alternative versions of events, was considered more like an official history. (For more on this topic, see here.)

For the following reading of the mythology, I’m indebted to the scholar Robert Wittkamp, who has sought to explain why the Nihon shoki has two books but the Kojiki only one. His supposition is that in contrast to the single imperial dynasty spelt out in the Kojiki, the Nihon shoki seeks to draw a distinction between the Takami Musuhi line in Book One and the Amaterasu line of Book Two.

Given this lineage break, it would seem quite possible that the Yamato dynasty integrated into their Korean tales the memory of an earlier ‘descent’ onto Kyushu. It is common after all for clans and tribes to mythologise their first arrival on foreign shores, and you find this in Okinawa for example with Kudaka Island claimed as the arrival point of the Ryukyu people and sanctified by the wonderful Sefa Utaki.

It may well be then that following immigration from Korea, the stories of descent onto Takachiho were conflated with the mythology of the sun going into hiding. It was through the creative work of Hieda no Are and O no Yasumaro (d. 723) that the competing stories were skilfully woven together into the Amaterasu myth as we know it today.

Following the compilation of the myths and legends in the early eighth century, the Kojiki story was largely disregarded in favour of Nihon shoki. It was only a millennium later with the Kokugaku Movement of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries that Kojiki came to be regarded as of wider significance. With the establishment of State Shinto under the Meiji government, the fictions of the concocted mythology were regarded as fact, and Takachiho along with spurious graves of early emperors treated as sacred ground.

(In Part Two a suggestion is made as to who might have actually ‘descended’ onto Mt Takachiho.)

Free spirits and power spots

October 28, 2019 / John D. / 4 Comments

On a recent visit to the charming town of Tomonoura I was delighted to come across an alternative to mainstream Shinto in the form of the two ladies pictured above. It happened at a so-called ‘power spot’ on the island of Sensuijima, a ten-minute ferry ride from the Tomonoura port.

Because of the power spot boom in recent years, it is not uncommon these days to come across places advertising themselves as power spots, as in the poster below. Though it proudly proclaims Sensui Island to be a ‘powerspot’, the main image is of leisure activities. It shows how the spiritual frisson of ‘a powerspot’ gives an extra dimension to sightseeing attractions.

While walking around the attractive coastline of the island, I came across two females playing music on a sandy beach. They were facing out to sea and I recognised from the sound of the flute that they were playing music for the kami. What I didn’t recognise was one of the instruments – a handmade kinderharp, so I took the opportunity to ask about it (see top picture).

It turned out that one of the women was from Nara and the other from Izumo, and that they shared an interest in spiritual matters. This was of their own devising, based on intuitive response to place and person.

On this occasion the two women had come to Sensui Island because the island had the same kind of rock as Nushima, the small island off Awajijima where the primal pair of Izanagi and Izanami are said to have descended in the origin myth of Japan. (See here for details.)

Having sensed a spiritual power on Nushima, the women had learnt that Sensui Island had the same kind of rock formation and were exploring whether there was a similar energy. And to aid them in their endeavour, they were beseeching the kami of place to favour their cause by offering music on flute and harp.

Power spot Sensuijima, seen from the ferry boat to Tomonoura

When talk turned to the transmission of energy, one of the women claimed to have special ‘hand power’. She performed a brief healing ceremony by holding her hand over my heart while her friend played a musical accompaniment. It had a calming effect, and I felt a strange kind of internal warmth.

Being socially conservative, Japan is often thirty or more years behind the West in emerging fashions (smoking, gay rights and vegetarianism provide examples). The activities of the two women not only spoke to a New Age influence, but recalled the search for authenticity by the hippies of the 1960s who turned to standing stones and ancient sites – ‘power spots’.

But quite apart from the Western borrowings, I couldn’t help feeling that there was here too a throwback to the ancient Japanese tradition of direct communication with the kami by ‘miko’ shamans. As in the past, the women represent an unconventional and unregulated form of spiritual practice that is threatening to the male guardians of authority. It helps explain why the Association of Shrines is wary of endorsing the phenomenon of power spots. Clearly it is out of step with the ‘invented tradition’ of post-Meiji Shrine Shinto, with its emperor-centred policies and nationalistic leanings.

For those of us in search of communion with nature through heightened consciousness, the women offer a living alternative to the fossilised rituals of orthodoxy. They embody indeed an inspiring example of an independent search for truth conducted outside the narrow perimeters of religious dogma and prescription.

Here were free spirits on a power spot pilgrimage. It was a most liberating encounter.

Sacred Benten Island, en route to Sensui, dedicated fittingly to the female deity of music, creativity and the arts

New Kagura Venue in Osaka

June 11, 2019 / John D. / 0 Comments

Kagura – Entertainment Fit for Gods

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.

By Jason Haidar, Kansai Scene, June 2, 2019

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.