Corona Gion – The geisha district’s most famous street during virus time
Yesterday I took a walk through Gion to explore the ’empty Kyoto’ phenomenon. The crowded teeming streets of overtourism days a few months ago have been transformed into eerily vacant spaces devoid of human presence. Even the top geisha district spot was empty. It’s very unnerving.
Green Shinto has carried items on the Gion Shrine of Yasui-Konpira-gu before, focussing on seven different distinctive features. It’s said to be a power spot and is famous above all for its ‘en-giri‘ rock, through which one can crawl in order to make a clean break with an old relationship. The petitioner can then crawl back through the other way in the hope of starting a new relationship.
A young girl takes advantage of the lack of worshippers to crawl through the enchanted stone (covered in paper prayers)
The history of the shrine is tied up with a temple called Rengein, of which it was an integral part until it had to make a break when the Meiji government introduced the shinbutsu bunri law in 1868 separating Shinto and Buddhism. The evidence of its ties with Buddhism remains, however, in a curious subshrine called Hachidai Rikison which stands in a corner of the precincts.
The shrine is built on the spot where once stood one of the pillars supporting the massive Main Hall of the temple. The pillar is seen now in animist fashion as a kind of Herculean spirit for having borne such weight. Though worshipped as a Shinto spirit, its past is signified in the Buddhist features of the subshrine – the architecture, the Chinese style opening, the bell.
As can be seen in the pictures below, the focus of worship are eight statues of wrestlers with stern expression – a unique expression of Shinto animism representing the personified spirits of eight stone pillars that once supported a massive temple. As such collectively they are said to represent firm foundations, overcoming adversity and the strength to survive.
The focus of worship is eight strong men within a Buddhist shaped opening. The figures are made from the eight base stones which once supported the temple to which Yasui Konpira was attached. The Buddhist-style bell produces a very different tone to the normal Shinto styleThe subshrine is sited in a quiet corner, nestled below its larger Gion neighbours The ema (votive plaque) celebrates the eight base pillars in personified form as eight strong men. In this way the subshrine not only acknowledges the shrine’s Buddhist past but is dedicated to one of Shinto’s prime concerns – extraordinary displays of power (which are seen as a manifestation of the lifeforce).
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
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.
Opening Amaterasu’s rock cave to let out the light, symbolic of rock’s numinous power
The Shinto shrines I love best are those that originated with sacred rocks. Some are kept out of view, hidden from public gaze as their numinous power might be eroded by human contact. Sometimes the rock is a ‘spirit-body’, visible but fenced off. Some rocks are associated with ancient legends, and some have the ability to heal. Some are given special names, and some are known as ‘mirror rocks’ which reflect the sacred spirit of the sun. Some are distinguished by their striking shape or size. There are rocks too of great physical presence.
Kamikura Jinja with the sacred Gotobiki rock onto which the Kumano kami descended
At Tarobu-gu in Shiga Prefecture a narrow passage leads between two sheer rockfaces, walking through which is said to bring good luck. Kamikura Jinja in Shingu, Wakayama Prefecture, is tucked beneath a huge overhanging rock. At Iwafune Jinja near Osaka there is a whole outcrop of tumbled rocks around which a trail leads to an opening inside which, in yin-yang fashion, stands a sacred phallus.
Opening in the rocks at Okinawa’s most sacred spot, Sefa Utaki
Worship of rocks predates even the most ancient of shrines, yet nowadays they are often overlooked for the formal trappings of imperial Shinto. Worshippers are expected to head for the Haiden (Worship Hall), make a monetary offering, then go to the shrine office and buy an amulet or keepsake. Myself, I head for the sacred rock. Invariably it exudes a sense of spirituality greater than the man-made places of worship. Power spots in Japan resonate with earth energy and are subversive of the established order.
All around the world rock has had the power to move people. Stone circles, pyramids, Easter Island statues, the Black Stone at Mecca, sacred rocks – it seems that ancient people found spiritual power in the apparently inanimate. Something other than synchronicity was clearly at work.
In hippie days it was fashionable in the UK to embrace stone circles such as the magnificent standing stones at Avebury and feel the energy that emanates from them. To those immersed in earth mysteries, they represented geological acupuncture needles which had been carefully placed on ley lines. They radiated with the pulse of a living earth, as if the very vibrations of existence could be felt through their touch. The Druid rites at Stonehenge were similarly concocted in terms of megalithic magic. Clearly the generations who in the past devoted whole lifetimes to putting up such monuments had been inspired by something special, something unseen, and it was only through the solidity of rock that they could express it.
Dowsing for electro-magnetic energy emanating from Avebury rocks
Alan Watts in one of his talks speaks of visitors from outer space revisiting Earth after an interval of millions of years and being astonished to find that the little rock rolling about in space had ‘peopled’. Just as a tree bears fruit and a plant produces flowers, so Earth had given birth to humans – indeed, to all life as we know it. It’s a striking thought, but perhaps it explains why people so often find a spiritual home in rock. We are after all lost little creatures propelled through space in a universe beyond our comprehension, and for comfort we cling for all we’re worth to the rock which is our home.
Mother Earth.
Hawk rock on Shiraishi Island, keeping an eye on the living world
Something about rocks speaks to the eternal and is suggestive of primal origins
