Japanese Religions and Material Culture

Traditional Japanese Swords

2009-04-21T18:07:00.003-04:00

(I will be putting up the remaining posts throughout the spring, for my own enjoyment, before I go back to blogging myself. This post is by Alice. Thank you Alice!)

Manipulation of traditional Japanese swords requires strict etiquette. Until today, every handler is required to apply these customs since the traditional Japanese sword represents a religious and social symbol worthy of respect and careful handling.

Several of these customs include:

• Never take the sword out of its sheath (saya) to present it: originally, this custom served to guaranty the security of people surrounding the sword-handler. However, this custom is still performed today for the same reasons. In general, one must always ask for the sword owner’s permission to unsheathe the blade and especially stand in good distance from him.

• The sword’s blade must never be pointed to the ground since, in case of a fall, its point could risk damage. Further, in the course of the handler’s movements, the blade must never be held horizontally; it is to be kept in a vertical position with the blade towards the top.

• Never touch the blade with the fingers. The traditional Japanese sword is very fragile and must be handled with care. Indeed, the blade is very sensitive to the sweat’s acidity and will find itself damaged.

• The handler should always discretely salute the blade when he removes it from its sheath. According to the Japanese religion, an artistic object deserves to be recognized for its meaning and value. In fact, according to the Samurai the famous Katana was considered the source of the warrior spirit. In a gesture of reverence, the Samurai often had their name engraved in their sword’s blade. This act can be understood as a way to attribute personal value to the object, which is a common theme in Japanese religion.

According to the Kojiki, the Sun Goddess Amaterasu is said to have given her grandson Ninigi No-Mikoto a sword as he was given the duty to reign down on earth. Many stories can be told about the mystical power of traditional Japanese swords. One of them involves two swordsmiths, Muramasa and Masume. Both decided to do a contest to see which made a better sword. To test the sword, Muramasa held his sword upright, which cut every leaf in the blade’s path in two. However, when Masume performed the same action, the leaves avoided his blade, passing on either side of the sword. Masume’s blade was therefore declared superior to its rival as it was proved to possess mystical and spiritual powers.

The Samurai and Katana
The Samurai are considered the most honourable warriors of ancient Japan. The Samurai’s principal weapon is a two to four feet long sabre called the Katana. Usually employed for outdoors combat, the Katana are characterized by their curved blade and high manoeuvrability. According to the Samurai history, the Samurai were the only individuals granted with the right to handle a Katana sword. If an individual belonging to the farmer or lower soldier class was suspected of owning such a weapon, he would be outright killed.

Hara-kiri (“Cutting the Belly”) is an act of suicide carried out by the Samurai in order to avoid falling into the enemy’s hands. Indeed, the Samurai preferred to take their own lives instead of succumbing to the enemy and suffer shame. A Samurai performing hara-kiri generally uses the smallest traditional Japanese sword called wakizashi. However, hara-kiri could also be used as a capital punishment for the Samurai in case he committed unprovoked murder, robbery, corruption or treason.

The Making of Katana
While the Katana’s handling was restricted to a selected group of individuals, its making also was. Ancient Japan swordmakers were an honoured class; the forging of the blade, notably, was perceived as a highly sacred activity: it was widely believed that only individuals with the purest hearts and highest moral standards could master the art. Rites of purification were (and are still) performed before engaging in the act of forging.

-video showing the making of a katana sword:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rwQqtf86qOc&feature=related

~guest blogger, Alice Giraud

What we're talking about in class today.

2009-04-07T12:00:00.000-04:00

Magatama Beads

2009-04-06T13:23:00.006-04:00

(This post on the magatama is by Lauren. Lauren, thank you!)

Magatama beads are authentically Japanese and date back to the Jomon period (14,000 BC to 400 BC). Magatama, meaning “curved jewel” or “curved spirit/soul” are comma shaped beads typically made of jade, glass, rocks and various semiprecious stones. These beads do not only have an aesthetic appeal to the Japanese, but have a long history of being incorporated into their religious practices including shamanism and Shinto.

The magatama beads have several possible origins. It is believed that they developed from hunters wearing the animal paraphernalia (claws, teeth, bones) from their game as mementos (Holtom 32). Another possible origin is that magatama beads are representative of the crescent moon, a fact supporting this is “the use of jewels in Old Japan as devices wherewith to magically control the tides”, like the moon (Holtom 34; 33-5). Some scholars also believe that these beads are derived from the Chinese ying-yang symbol, as they are visually similar (Schumacher, Arnheim).

Some of the earliest religious uses of magatama beads were in Japanese shamanic practices. Here they were used as tools to draw a kami spirit into a shaman, who would serve as a medium between kamis and humans (Matsume 18-19). The beads were also used in spirit pacification rituals to “call back the spirit of the deceased and then to bind it and/or transfer it” (Ebersole 96). This was possible because the magatama beads are believed to be a lure to the kami as well as a temporary residing place for them (Blacker 106). These ideas are given further solidity when looking at the Kojiki story of coaxing Amaterasu out of the cave. Ame-no-uzume (the kami that causes the laughter) is thought by scholars to be a shaman who becomes possessed by Amaterasu while performing a spirit pacification ritual where she is reviving Amaterasu's soul (bringing it back from the dead and binding it in the world of the living by using magatama beads tied on a sakaki tree) (Ebersole 98; Matsume).

The most important magatama beads are called the yasakani no magatama and is one of the imperial regalia objects. In this context the beads are believed to possess the soul of a person wherein it can be passed on to others as a means of passing one's authority or power to its receiver. Izanagi's gift of these beads to Amaterasu is so important because in doing so, “Izanagi ceded all of his spiritual power to Ama-terasu-opo-mi-kami” to rule with (Philippi 71). This is because Izanagi had previously put his soul into the beads by shaking them (indication of a spirit pacification ritual) (Philippi 71). The transfer of power and authority to rule Japan has been handed down in this way - through the yasakani no magatama beads - from Amaterasu to her descendants, right up to the present emperor and continues to be done through the imperial accession ceremony (Ebersole 96).

Finally, magatama beads are believed to be beneficial to their owner. According to Schumacher they are for the “'avoidance of evil'”, the “'magic of good fortune'”, or “growth, longevity, and prosperity”. This is depicted again with Izanagi giving the beads to his daughter, as he wanted to grant her longevity (Philippi 71). So, next time you're in Japan, get some magatama beads as they might bring you luck, long life or even a kami.

~guest blogger, Lauren Forbes

A hat that does more than just keep your head warm.

2009-04-06T12:49:00.004-04:00

(Alison gives us this post on the kaihogyo hat. Thank you very much Alison!)

Just outside of the city of Kyoto we find Mt. Hiei, home to the Japanese Esoteric Buddhist sect called the Tendai. The most extreme practice some of these kaihogyo monks undertake is the one thousand day walk, where practitioners walk the equivalence of the circumference of the globe over a period of seven years (Covell 256). It’s easy to understand why these monks are called the “marathon monks.” Anybody would concede that spending an average of 143 days per year walking would require top-notch attire and walking equipment, but these monks don’t have so much as a good pair of sneakers. Instead, the kaihogyo monks adorn themselves with no more than straw sandals, a robe, a wooden hat, and some accessories. What is of particular interest is the hat, considered to represent the principle deity of Mt. Hiei, Fudo Myo-o (Rhodes 194). (For a picture of the hat, go to: http://www.kyoto-np.co.jp/kp/topics/eng/2003sep/09-18.html)

The practitioner is said to be a symbol of Fudo My-oo and is to recite his mantras during their entire walk, establishing a constant state of worship (Ludvik 117). Since the Fudo hat is a representation of Fudo, it serves as a constant reminder of the deity and of the ongoing state of worship. The hat is made by wood from a hinoki tree and is rolled up on both of the sides, giving it an oblong shape that kind of resembles a hotdog bun. Because the hat itself is said to be Fudo Myo-o, the marathon monks are to treat it with the highest respect; in fact, the monk isn’t even allowed to wear it for the first 300 days of his practice, except when it rains (Rhodes 194).

Hagami Shocho, who completed the one thousand days of walking in 1954, recalls at first feeling somewhat sceptical about the attire the monks had to wear. Quite quickly, however, he realized that each article of clothing had its own purpose. Of the hat, he noted that its streamlined design made it “just the right fit for narrow tree-lined mountain trails” (Covell 263). This logical design of the kaihogyo attire extended, in his opinion, to the logical and scientific nature of the practice itself. As a result, the Fudo hat takes on a larger role, representing not only the powerful deity Fudo but also the rationale and science of traditional Japanese Buddhist practices (Covell 263).

Any kaihogyo practitioner is said to pledge to kill themselves if, for any reason, they are unable to complete the one thousand days of walking. As such, they carry with them a dagger and a rope if they find themselves unable to go on. Placed in their hat is the rokumon-sen coin, the coin that is pays for the ferry toll to cross the river separating the dead from the living. Here, the Fudo hat takes on another function: that of facilitating border crossing. This is especially interesting considering how much we’ve discussed border transgressions this semester. The Tendai monk sets out on his practice (very much alive) with the preparedness to cross into the world of the dead if he cannot complete his practice. The hat, moreover, is what makes possible this border crossing. So, in addition to representing a very important deity and reflecting the logical nature of the Tendai tradition, the Fudo hat also serves to cross the ultimate border between life and death. Now that is one heck of a hat.

For more on the kaihogyo practitioners, see:

http://www.journeyman.tv/17768/short-films/marathon-monks.html

http://planetkyoto.com/blog/?p=1305

For more on Fudo Myo-o, see

http://fudosama.blogspot.com/2004/12/fudoo-myoo-oo-acala-vidyrja.html

http://www.onmarkproductions.com/html/fudo.html

~guest blogger, Alison Colpitts

Incense

2009-04-05T20:00:00.000-04:00

(Thanks to Marc for this informative post on incense!)

Entering a Buddhist or Taoist temple, one is immediately aware of a pleasant sent in the air, the scent of incense. After exposure one can almost immediately recognize the presence of a temple or shrine based on smell alone, it is a very recognizable and distinct smell. The Japanese have been using incense within their religion and culture for hundreds of years. Buddhism was brought to Japan in the year 538 C.E. and along with it came incense. Ever since then, incense has been an integral part of Japanese religions.

There are many different ideas of what constitutes incense, but generally speaking, “Incense is defined to be both the perfume or fumigation arising from the burning of certain resins, barks, woods, seeds, fruit, etc., as well as the material being burned itself” (Bedini, 41). There are two main types of incense: direct burning and indirect burning. Direct burning involves combustion, while indirect burning involves heated stones to create the effect. Both types were and still are used by the Japanese. Direct burning incense is found in many temples, shrines, and homes. A good example of direct burning incense are incense sticks. Indirect burning is done during Kodo (the incense ceremony) or strictly on religious grounds within special incense containers.

Kodo, as stated previously, is a Japanese incense ceremony. It is a very hard ceremony to perfect. “It takes many years of study, and a great deal of practice to perform the incense ceremony properly. The art of the Japanese Tea Ceremony is itself very difficult, and takes about 15 years to master. The art of Kodo takes over 30 years!” (Oller, 2). The incense ceremony represents the Japanese appreciation for incense. There are many Kodo ceremonies, such as kneading the incense and burning the incense, and also many games that are often run by a Kodo master. Yet, Kodo is jut one of the many uses for incense.

Within both Buddhist and Taoist temples and shrines, incense is burned very often. Incense sticks are the most prevalent in temples. They serve at least four distinct purposes. First, they are burned as a form of purification. They can be used to purify both objects and people. The second use of incense is to aid prayers on their way to the other world or to ancestors. Incense is seen as a medium that allows one to have contact with spirits and deceased relatives. It is also used as to facilitate the burial process for the same reasons. Thirdly, it is used to help in meditation, to calm oneself (this calming aspect is why incense was medicinally used as well). Lastly, incense was used as a measurement for time.

The use of incense as a timekeeper was prevalent in Japan from the seventeenth to the nineteenth century, and is still used today in rural monasteries. Matchcord and Candle are the two main types of incense timekeepers. A matchcord consists of incense wrapped into a cord shape, and candles consist of a solid piece of incense. Candles have designated amounts of time. They were used as timekeepers for the monks. The gathering bell was scheduled to be rung by the burning of incense.

It seems that incense and Japanese religion go hand in hand. Incense is an integral part of a Buddhist/Taoist temple or shrine. Japan has used incense throughout the years, for purposes such as prayer, burials, and time keeping. Incense is very important to the Japanese people, and is therefore celebrated during Kodo, a way of giving thanks to such an essential element of Japan.

~guest blogger, Marc Duquette

2009-04-05T19:58:00.000-04:00

(This is Jared's take on sake. Thank you very much Jared!)

SAKE!!! Many students of religion have encountered it somewhere along the line, some of them likely dropping a shot of it into a cup of beer and consuming the concoction post-haste, perhaps even yelling something in the process. Funnily enough, the tradition and history of sake goes well beyond this modern-day ritual; it actually has ancient roots in several crucial Japanese religious rites. Thanks to Kelly for the background on rice--as sake is (as she explained) a rice-based alcoholic beverage, an understanding of this component of its nature is important.

Japanese culture and ritual is abundant with sake. Small bowls of sake are offered to the dead or to the kami, new barrels are opened to ceremoniously celebrate the beginning of new businesses, and further, sake plays an important role in specific purification rituals (Kasulis 2004, 56). In 2008, for example, workers at North Shore Constructors in Japan splashed each part of a machine to be used to drill tunnels with sake before embarking on their endeavour (Ritchie, Pittsburgh Tribune-Review). They describe it as a ritual undertaken to wish for good drilling. Kasulis points out that ancient myths and folktales allude to the fact that the kami are fond of sake. In some examples of the use of sake in Japanese religion, its intoxicating quality is of little to no importance. Sake barrels at Shinto shrines often represent the donations of patrons and have nothing to do with intoxication. But as Kasulis admits, the inebriating qualities of sake are often relevant and therefore should not be ignored. Accordingly, Japanese workers often drink sake as a means to escape social norms and hierarchies; drinks after work with co-workers and employers tend to disintegrate existing social norms (think back to carnivalesque inversion!). Barrels of sake are opened following Shinto ceremonies, and even following victorious sports events, and are passed around freely to spread good fortune. Ms. Curley, in class, correctly explained sake culture as a culture of looseness, libido and relaxation in many contexts.

It’s interesting to note than during the Second World War, Kamikaze pilots drank sake before their missions. What might be their motivation? Could it be religious – a way of connecting with the deities in their last minutes of life? Or something else? It seems to me that there are cynical and not-so-cynical answers; you be the judge :)

Sake maintains a position as one of the five elements that provide purification in Shinto ritual (the others being water, salt, fire and sand). It has already been described in this blog how rice assists in forming a communion with deities. Japanese folklore explains the history of sake as a sacred beverage produced as an offering to the gods (Lebra 1986, 114). Mortal beings drank sake in a rite called naorae, drinking it in communion with the gods, in a sense sharing their spiritual essence (Lebra 1986, 114). The communal aspects of religious sake drinking in Japan have carried over into its secular use, as seen by its use following sports victories and a hard day’s work. But its communal nature holds perhaps the most value in its application and use in Shinto ritual.

In 1824, Samuel Morewood wrote a book entitled ‘An Essay on the Inventions and Customs of Both Ancient and Moderns in the Use of Inebriating Liquors’. It’s available for free online through Google Books. Specifically, check out pages 136 and following for an interesting account of sake in Japan during that period. Kanpai!!

~guest blogger, Jared Schwartz

Bunya Ningyo

2009-04-05T18:00:00.000-04:00

(Bianca brings us this post on one of the coolest forms of Japanese theatre.)

Puppetry generally brings to mind children playing with felt finger-puppets whilst putting on performances for each other, and not a critically-acclaimed, historically and culturally significant art form, at least in the mind of a North American. However, in the Japanese cultural tradition, the manipulation of puppets is executed with ritualistic expertise and often included in religious rites (Walter). There are many forms of Japanese puppetry, including Bunya Ningyo, which in 1977 was recognized as a National Intangible Cultural Asset (Wales).

Sado is an island located in the Japan Sea with an interesting history and has been described as representing a microcosm of Japan (Sado Tourism). Historically, many well-known people accused of political or ideological crimes were exiled to Sado and more recently Sado has been the birthplace of many intellectuals and artists, including puppeteers (Sado Tourism). Sado puppetry is divided into three categories: Sekkyo puppets (preachers of morality), Noroma puppets (simpletons) and Bunya puppets (storytellers). Gorozaemon Suda of the Niibo district brought a group of dolls from Kyoto 250 years ago and founded a theatre on Sado (Sado Tourism). Sado prides itself on its Sekkyo and Bunya stanzas that remain closer in form to the stories of the founders of the genre as well as the recent movement to ensure conservation of this prized cultural asset (Sado Tourism). Bunya puppetry, along with other traditional folk performances, is a significant and essential part of the annual calendar of festivals and events (Sado Tourism).

The Bunya (storyteller) puppets are carved out of wood and clothed with fabric. The puppets are nearly life-size, and though their wooden faces hold the same painted expression, the puppeteer, dressed in black to remain invisible to the audience, gracefully guides the body, head, and limbs creating precise, life-like movements across the stage, as musical accompaniment expresses the changes of feelings and emotions of the mute puppets (Wales). The puppeteers use one hand to control the stick attached to the puppet’s head while the other hand is tucked inside the puppet’s clothing so the performer can maneuver the body (Wales). Bunya Puppet Drama is not your average puppet show - the themes can include sex, violence, alcohol consumption, and other commentaries and reflections on Japanese society (Walter).

Whether on or off the stage, the puppets’ pale faces and blank expression can be quite unsettling, There is power in the simplicity of their facial features as well as their movements, and after a while you are convinced you have their expression change. I had the pleasure of visiting Sado Island, and seeing the works of art that are Bunya puppets in the “flesh”. My parent’s long-time friend is a Canadian-born artist, who has been living on Sado Island for 12 years and had the honour of apprenticing under the master Moritaro Hamada (1900-1998), who said that Sado puppetry may rest in his hands (Wales). When we were visiting, he was working on a piece in honour of Sado Island including puppets of the ever-present raccoon-dog and the quintessentially Sado tugboat fisherman. Bunya puppetry, an important cultural feature of Sado Island, is an art form that celebrates Japanese folkloric tradition with increasingly more modern elements.

~guest blogger, Bianca Martella

2009-04-05T12:48:00.007-04:00

(This is Alexandra's post on cherry blossoms, or sakura. Thank you Alex!)

For the Japanese people cherry blossoms have spiritual meaning, they symbolize the transience of life. This concept is very deeply rooted in the fundamental teachings of Buddhism, that the state of all life is suffering and transitory. The beauty of the flower and their brief life, beginning each spring symbolizes the essence of a human’s short life well-lived. (Ann McClellan) It is important to realize that the concept of a short life represents both life and death. The life process is considered cyclical as life leads to death and death is predicated upon life and then followed by rebirth. (Sepp Linhart) Summed up in the phrase mono no aware, cherry blossoms are linked with the notion that sadness is inevitable when tied with the experience of beauty because nothing lasts forever. This phrase perpetuates the notion of a short life well lived, which is still evident in today’s Japanese culture with the annual Hanami festival held in honor of the cherry trees. (Christian Roy)

Cherry blossoms are a symbol of Japan’s national character. The life of a samurai in feudal times was traditionally compared to the short lived cherry blossoms in that they last no more than three days. To old samurai there was no greater glory than to die on the battlefield like scattered cherry blossoms.

The planting of cherry trees, most specifically in ceremonies still holds importance for people of rural Japan. For them dropping cherries whose branches had fallen to the ground were believed to be the souls of the deceased people who traveled through the blue sky and down to the ground through the cherry trees.

Today when cherry trees bloom Japanese people from all walks of life participate in Hanami, the flower blooming festival. It celebrates the week long flowering of the cherry trees in spring. The origins of Hanami are said to date back to the Seventh Century when the blooming of cherry blossoms was considered an truthful indicator for the conditions of the coming harvest. (Ranjan Shandilya) Full blooms would signify an ample rice harvest and this would be cause for celebration among the merchant classes.

A favorite station of Hanami‘s floral pilgrimage is Mount Yoshino on Honshu Island. Traditionally it holds that this is where a Buddhist monk planted the first cherry trees in Japan. During the festival, people come out in large numbers at parks, temples and shrines with family and friends to hold flower viewing parties. The festival is held to celebrate the beauty of the cherry blossoms and it gives people a chance to relax and enjoy the beautiful view. (Christian Roy)

During the Hanami festival the traditional folk song ‘Sakura, Sakura’ is chanted; (Ann McClellan)

Cherry blossoms, Cherry blossoms
Across March skies.
As far as you can see,
Mists or clouds?
Their fragrance is floating,
Let us go, let us go
It’s a must see!

On a final yet interesting note, the traditional Japanese values of purity and simplicity are thought to be reflected in the form and colour of the cherry blossoms.

~guest blogger, Alexandra Woolf

Oage and Inarizushi

2009-04-02T06:00:00.001-04:00

(Tasty post by Eithne. Thank you Eithne!)

My first interaction with sushi was not good. I was jet lagged and waiting for a flight in the Vancouver airport, and the sushi pieces were unbelievably dry, and shrink-wrapped into plastic dated from a few days previously. The positive side of this first experience is that my interactions with sushi could only improve… and they have. The first time I encountered inarizushi, I immediately became a fan and it has quickly become a regular presence on my order sheet. Hearing Melissa mention the link between inarizushi and the kami Inari, I decided to focus on this particularly delicious aspect of Japanese material culture.

In the Japenese religious imagination, the figure of Inari is quite ambiguous. The kami can be found portrayed in both in male and female form, is worshiped in both Shinto and Buddhist rites, and there exists a multitude of accounts that offer different explanations the development of Inari worship. However, one thing that is agreed upon by all accounts is Inari’s “deep connection to rice”. Another point of agreement is the close relation between Inari and foxes. Believed to be messengers between the realm of the living and the realm of kami, foxes are “inconographically ubiquitous” in the practice of Inari worship, and traditional images of Inari usually include the portrayal of the kami surrounded by foxes. It is in this connection with foxes that the relation to fried tofu presents itself.

Fried tofu (oage) is the most popular food offering at Inari shrines. The reasoning behind this offering is the common belief that “foxes are said to like this particular food.” The streets leading to Inari shrines are populated with many stalls selling oage to be used as ritual offerings. The connection between foxes and fried tofu is also extended to inarizushi, a type of sushi made with fried tofu. Inarizushi is made from simmering oage in soy sauce and other seasonings, and then fashioning a pocket from the tofu and stuffing it with rice. This surrounding of rice (of which Inari is closely associated) with fried tofu can be seen as a microcosmic representation of the traditional images of Inari, in which the kami is shown surrounded by foxes.

The origin of this connection between foxes and oage is somewhat of a mystery. Clearly it isn’t part of the diet of a natural wild fox, and “no clear tradition links it with the fox or Inari worship.” There are numerous speculations as to why this connection was established. One potential explanation could be the resemblance between the colouring of oage and the fur of a fox (both being a golden brown colour). A second explanation focuses on the amount of effort required to make fried tofu. A work-intensive undertaking, it was believed that the time and effort required made it “a suitable offering for the kami.” A third speculative reason is the fact that fried foods were often offered to the devas in esoteric Buddhist practices, and thus the use of fried tofu entered the Shinto tradition through the shared worship of Inari (who, in Japanese Esoteric Buddhism, is associated with Dakiniten).

If you’d like to sample some good inarizushi, my personal recommendation is Soba and Sushi, located on the corner of Sherbrooke and Northcliffe in NDG . Or, if you are feeling very ambitious, you can find a recipe here.

~guest blogger, Eithne Sheeran

Hina-ningyo--This ain't no Barbie.

2009-04-01T20:00:00.001-04:00

(This post was written up for us by Mallory. Please make sure to read it before tackling the final reading of the semester. Thank you Mallory!)

Arguably the most important of Japanese dolls, the Hina-ningyo play a central role in the Hina-Matsuri (Girl’s Day). Occurring on March 3rd each year, the Hina-Matsuri is an event focussing on the pleasure and prosperity of young women, ensuring that they grow up to be prime marriage material. Hina-Matsuri is also closely linked to springtime and the coming of peach season, the most sacred of all crops. These hina exist as the focal point of the festival, providing a medium through which purification, serenity, and good luck can occur. Can your Barbie do that?

Just like the hito-gata dolls we have seen in the purification ritual of the Suwa Shrine, so too do these ningyo signify eradication of impurities. The combination of sin-infused representative dolls and water allows one to wash away evils. We’re familiar with the concept of yorishiro – a type of miniaturized “temporary lodging place” for the kami. The use of hina-ningyo in the Girl’s Festival originates in the very same concept. Through a long process of evolution, the traditional use of dolls for purification expanded and multiplied, making the dolls catalytic in many customs. It was not until the 17th century that hina-ningyo were solidified as a display in the Hina-Matsuri, but the use of these minis goes back hundreds of years.

Linked to the Heian Period (794-1185), early forms of the dolls were simplistic. According to the luxurious trends of the Edo period, the scale of the dolls reached human proportions. Around the same time, this matsuri was demarcated as an official seasonal holiday, and the scale of the dolls was regulated by the government to permit widespread and affordable participation in the previously elitist custom.

I guess even the state believes that every little girl deserves a chance to decontaminate herself on her special day.

Annually, these dolls make an appearance in the best room of one’s home. The display itself can be an heirloom, home-made, or purchased as a gift for a girl’s first Hina-Matsuri. Little girls get a chance to host a party on this day, and often dress up like the dolls themselves.

No collection is complete without the most important dolls: the dairi-bina. Representing the Emperor and Empress, these lords and ladies are also the most basic part of the ningyo set. The Emperor stands to the left and usually has very broad shoulders. His wife tucks her legs under her, often making her appear to be sitting on a pillow. Originally made of materials like clay or paper, they were simply understood as miniaturizations. Early pairs were plainly attired and ambiguously gendered, yet through the ages the figure’s textiles, accessories, and body shape were developed into the ornate dolls of today.

During the 18th century, the dairi-bina made some friends, and are since accompanied by three women-in-waiting, five musicians (gonin-bayashi), two ministers, and three samurai protectors. In order to accommodate the new ningyo (normally 15 in number), the single stage of the Emperor and Empress became a 5-tiered podium (hina-dan) covered in bright red fabric (hino-mosen). In order to accommodate the kami spirits residing in the dolls, some hina-dan feature seven tiers. The bottom two levels are filled with miniaturized offerings in order to guarantee that happy marriage. These include peach blossoms to the kami who will reward the family by taking away impurities and ensuring the happiness of daughters.

Despite this wide variance among sets of hina-ningyo and the major changes that they have undergone, their symbolism remains the same. The dolls banish bad luck and other impurities so that girls can prosper in the year to come.

Word to the wise – always put away your hina-ningyo right after Girl’s Day, otherwise your daughter might have trouble finding theKen of her dreams.

Check out more dolls!
Modern and delicate dairi-bina
A more affordable home-made set, with servants too
Here’s an example of a 7-tiered hina-dan
Pop-culture dolls exist too!

~guest blogger, Mallory Bey

Japanese demons: Tengu--demons of war

2009-04-01T12:00:00.000-04:00

(Jackie brings us this post on the trickster figure, the tengu. Thank you Jackie!)

The Yamabushi tengu, a bird-like goblin, is depicted as a patron of martial arts, a skilled warrior and mischief maker who is known to perform malevolent and illusionary acts toward haughty and self-righteous religious leaders by punishing those who wilfully misuse knowledge and authority to gain fame or position. Originally depicted as guardians of the mountain, the Yamabusi tengu is presently regarded as a protector of religious law: tengu are protectors of the Dharma (Buddhist law). As patrons of martial arts, tengu are credited with extraordinary skills in sword fighting and weapons- smith. They sometimes serve as mentors in the art of war and strategy to humans they find worthy. The tengu are also sometimes worshiped as Shinto kami and revered to as spirits or gods.

Sojobo, the mythical king of the tengu, sit at the top of the structural hierarchy of minor deities who inhabit the mountains of Japan. A popular spiritual mystic of Japanese folklore, Sojobo possess strong mystical powers. His physical attributes are characterized as: a tall man with long nose, red face, wearing garb of hermit or priest, with small hat that serves as a drinking cup; with or without wings, but always able to fly; sometimes wearing ‘geta’ (wooden sandals), holding a magic fan made of bird feathers (when used, can make hellish winds), carrying a staff or small mallet. The Sojobo statue is found in Kamakura, Japan.

Sojobo’s distinctive trademark, a fan made of Fatsia leaf. The magical element of this marquee could create strong winds that result in hellish storms. His fan is also used to change his physical appearance: to shrink or elongate his nose. His fan is made from seven feathers as a sign of his position at the top of tengu society. Sojobo is deemed extremely powerful, and is believed to possess the strength of 1,000 normal tengu (demon deities). Sobjob possess the ability of teleportation, telepathic communication and shape shifting. Through his telepathic communication, this elevated deity has the ability to pollute minds and manipulate thoughts of both mortal and immortal individuals. He sometimes transformed himself into human to interact with people.

The long nose of the tengu is also marked as a source of its power. This prominent feature of the tengu is noted as the defining characteristic of the mythical tengu. The phallic-shaped nose of the tengu can measure up to seven hand-spans in length and is often identified as the main feature that deplores its true identity: the tengu is often disguised as priests or nuns, a camouflage from its true form which is a hybrid morphology of a half man, half –bird creature, known as the Karasu (crow). This elongated feature of tengu is associated with the Shinto deity Sarudahiko and is recognized to play a prominent role in many religious festivals such as the Shimokita Tengu Matsuri which is held for 3 days in the Shimokitazawa area of Tokyo (http://bartman905.wordpress.com/2009/02/01/shimokita-tengu-matsuri/).

Additional information about the Tengu is accessible through the following links:

http://www.monstropedia.org/index.php?title=Tengu

http://www.onmarkproductions.com/html/tengu.shtml

http://www.karasu-tengu.com/index-english.html

http://www.canit.se/~tengu/tengu.html

~guest blogger, Jackie Jones

Bamboo

2009-04-01T08:00:00.000-04:00

(This post on bamboo is by Hannah. Thank you so much Hannah!)

Bamboo. It makes up 99% of the Giant Panda’s diet and it can be fashioned into chopsticks or simply cultivated in one’s own Zen Garden. In addition, it is the fastest growing plant on the planet, sometimes skyrocketing upwards 47 inches in one day! However, besides the aesthetically pleasing nature of bamboo, it holds great cultural significance in Japan. For example, during the Northern Song Dynasty, literati-style painting became all the rage in China. As the Chinese Buddhist priests made their way into Japanese Zen monasteries, their brush and ink style artwork followed them. It began as a countermovement to the traditional Orthodox painters of the Imperial Academy of Painting and the paintings were meant to emphasize the painters own individual experience with their natural surroundings. As the title of Masuyama Sessai`s painting suggests, literati is about having “pure conversation among green mountains.”

Bamboo began to be incorporated into literati-style paintings in several ways. Firstly, the wispy brushstroke technique of the painters mimicked the slender, flexible stem of the bamboo plant. Secondly, the aim of this style is to fuse humans and nature into one harmonious being. A tree could be painted to depict virtuous human qualities such as resilience, longevity, and honour by using hard, strong brushstrokes. Case in point, bamboo is known for its supple stems that can bend dramatically without breaking. The Japanese associate these characteristics with strength and fortitude (like that of Japan’s militaristic past) as the seemingly delicate bamboo stalks can withstand powerful winds and the cold of the snow. In this sense, the literati would fuse the strength of both nature and culture into one beautiful scenic painting.

Bamboo has also gained cultural significance in Japanese tea ceremonies. The bamboo wood is hand-sculpted into a tea whisk (chasen) which is used to mix green tea powder and hot water together in preparation for a tea ceremony. Bamboo has become the material of choice for these chasen’s as it is durable yet flexible, allowing the host to vigorously whisk the tea. In addition, bamboo has no odour or smell which could tarnish the taste or aromas of the tea.

Sen no Rikyu, the most famous Japanese tea master, was the first to use bamboo as tea ceremony flowers (chabana). Chabana’s are used as centerpieces during tea ceremonies and act as an artistic reminder of the current season. Sen no Rikyu began to incorporate bamboo vessels into the centerpieces. This vessels were simple and modest, like Sen no Rikyu, and never detracted from the ceremony itself. Appealing to the wabi ascetic for imperfections, the vessels were never perfectly sculpted and often used bamboo that had flaws such as cracks.

Presently, bamboo is still a significant part of Japanese culture and recently, other countries are beginning to demand bamboo, mainly for decorative and culinary purposes. Luckily, the rapid growth rate of the plant, along with Japan’s dedication to recycling old bamboo should ensure the sustainable use of bamboo.

~guest blogger, Hannah Mott

Ringo or Taiko?

2009-03-31T20:55:00.003-04:00

(This is Philippe's take on taiko. Thank you Philippe!)

I must start this post with a confession. After reading the article concerning the practice of okoshi daiko, I thought: “So what!? They’re playing ONE drum! I can play FOUR or FIVE at the same time!!!” What is so special about this particular drum that makes it able to single handedly satisfy one’s appetite for rhythm?

The Japanese word taiko translates to ‘big drum’. Its presence can be traced back all the way back to the Kojiki: “Amë‐nö‐ uzume‐nö‐mikötö bound up her sleeves… …and overturning a bucket before the heavenly rock‐cave door, stamped resoundingly upon it” (Kojiki I xvii) Historically though, it is unclear whether the drum’s origins stem from Japan or from the influence of neighboring cultures. “Taiko can be found in archaeological sites from as early as the Joumon Period (10,000 B.C.E. – 300 B.C.E). Excavated earthenware drums and clay figures that depict drummers suggest that drums were used on ceremonial and religious occasions in ancient Japan” (Izumi). In fact, the most ancient representation of taiko, a clay statue of a person with drum hung from his shoulder, was found in Gunma Prefecture. And, there are those who claim that the drum came from India via China and Korea along with the influence of Buddhism. Indeed, some Buddhist sutras and murals feature depictions of instruments resembling taiko. What is known is that there are many reasons the taiko was played throughout Japan’s history. We have seen how it was used as a means of protest through the practice of okoshi daiko, but it has also featured in ceremonies like the Buddhist summer festival Obon where “people danced, circling around a yagura (wooden platform) where a singer, a drummer, and a fue (bamboo flute) player provided background music for dancers” (Izumi). The drum was also used in warfare to intimidate enemies and rally soldiers and, in other instances, to delineate villages whose borders were established by the audability of the sound produced by the taiko. “In some Buddhist traditions, its rumbling sound represented the voice of Buddha and in Shinto shrines it accompanied prayers to heaven” (www.shumeitaiko.org/history). During the ceremony of Mikotonori, for example, “the sound of drumming bridges the divide between the human and the divine” (www.shumeitaiko.org/shumei-taiko).

There are two principal categories of taiko based on their construction method: (please note that daiko is the suffix form of taiko) The byou-uchi daiko or, simply, byou-daiko is built by attaching the drumhead along the edge of the drum shell with nails while the tsukushime daiko or shime-daiko features heads that are stretched over metal hoops which are then tensioned with the help of rope. The taiko also come in various shapes and sizes. The most common byou-daiko is the nagado-daiko (long-bodied daiko). It is long and wine-barrel shaped and produces a very deep sound. Odaiko or ‘big fat drum’ refers to larger drums that are typically played by two drummers on either sides of it. Furi tsuzumi, is a type of very small taiko which some of you may recognize. It is attached to a stick, which is rolled between your hands to make two beads, attached by strings to the drum’s sides, strike the heads and produce the sound.

The idea of taiko ensembles is relatively modern. The first kumi-daiko, as they are called, was formed shortly after WWII by (yes!!!) a Japanese jazz drummer named Daihachi Oguchi. Since then, the trend has grown significantly to international appeal with groups having sprouted in Europe and North America and professional troupes like Kodo enjoying a busy touring schedule around the world.

It is interesting to note that the symbol tomoe is commonly depicted on taiko. This symbol signifies the meeting of heaven and earth. The shapes resembling commas or magatama beads are understood to be the same as the shape of the soul and, within the tomoe design, designate heaven, earth and humanity. I end with a quote from the group Shumei Taiko’s website “the Shumei Taiko Ensemble continues to unite people of all beliefs, nations, and languages in a grand vision of love and harmony. The Ensemble began in a moment of kanno doko, in which the sound of drums accompanied prayers to heaven. Its music can be understood as a form of prayer, a prayer for world peace and friendship among all people of the earth.” (www.shumeitaiko.org/shumei-taiko)

~guest blogger, Philippe Melanson

Rocks Rock.

2009-03-31T16:30:00.000-04:00

(This cool post is by Alex. Thank you very much Alex!)

If you find this sharp, pointy stone attractive, then chances are you do not have a healthy sense of humanity. For your sake, I hope you find it repulsive. While this rock may seem appealing, this appeal is really just an effect of the stone’s façade. In accordance with the fine Japanese practice of rock gardening, described as shibusa, (meaning quiet & refined taste), stones such as the one pictured above are less refined than those that are naturally smoother, or at least are not this shape. (**please note. This specific rock was not actually used to infer a poor sense of humanity, but it’s the closest rock I could find that looks like the diagram of a bad rock in the book Magic Trees and Stones: Secrets of Japanese Gardening. As I am not a cultivated Japanese Gardener, I may be misleading you completely. If so, I apologize). This is not to say that all stones with points and protrusions are inauspicious—in fact it can be quite the opposite. Protrusions are not all bad—though distinguishing between the bad and the good is a technique reserved for experienced gardeners. Protrusions can act as an indication of the direction in which the stone’s spirit moves, and this can serve to be very helpful when attempting to achieve proper balance between different stones. The trick is to choose those stones that have just the right amount of protrusions, while effectively reading what the stone is saying. A stone’s spirit direction can be sensed by careful observation, paying attention to its contours and composure. It is important to recognize the spirit direction to hear what the stone is saying and, and then to be arrange multiple stones so that they relationships with one another. Just as the balance of the push and pull between the ki of the calligrapher and the word is crucial for establishing and maintaining balance, so too is the ki dynamic of stones. The arrangement of stones needs to correspond to their calling and responding to one another. For example, one stone may be winking at another stone, and this calling needs to be made in the direction that the receiving stone is running. Alternatively, stones may have their backs turned to each other, like lovers in a brief quarrel. The essential element here is to create a connection between the stones, so that together they will speak in unity and evoke a sense of harmony for the garden viewer. When this harmony is achieved, one should get the same sense of power and balance that is similar to the experience of written calligraphy or the rhythm of music.

Harmony of the qi in the rocks enhances the energy flow and adds to the natural component that is inherent to the garden. As even the slightest error in rock positioning can devastate the balance, it is the role of the garden arranger to partake in effective communication with the rock. It is not only the shape of the rock or stone that contributes to its value, but also its cultivation of moss. As moss takes a long time to grow, its presence is an indication of age, and thus mossy rocks are revered. The subtle refinement of a moss-covered stone is described as shibusa, and is understood to be of ultimate beauty.

The focus of the rock in the rock garden is to listen to, understand and contemplate the rocks and stones as a means to cultivate deeper understanding, while showing respect for the rocks and their ki.

To learn about the variety of stone arrangements, their meanings and symbols, check out these books:

Reading Zen in the Rocks: The Japanese Dry Landscape Garden by François Berthier. ISBN 0226044114

-OR-

Magic of Trees and Stones. Saiot & Wada. ISBN 3101916842K

OR if you just want to look at some really cool, old pictures of Japanese rock gardens & you get excited by looking at really old books, check out the Supplement to Landscape Gardening In Japan by Josiah Conder. ISBN 3103048044L.

These are all available or your convenience at our trusty McGill library.

~guest blogger, Alex Beveridge

The Kimono

2009-03-31T06:00:00.000-04:00

(This post is by Carolyn. Carolyn, thank you very much!)

The kimono is the national costume of Japan. Literally it means “thing to wear” (ki-“wearing”, mono- “thing”). Kimonos are T-shaped, straight-lined robes which are wrapped around the body, the left side over the right (except when dressing the dead for burial) and generally fall at the ankle. They are secured by a wide belt tied at the back called an obi. They are generally worn with split-toe socks called tabi and traditional footwear (zori or geta).

Compared to western dress, the kimono is much more conservative. Rather that the focus being on the shape of the dress, the areas of fashion are the colors the patterns and the decorative details. The kimono has a large surface on which the artist can display his art. All garments of kimonoed genealogy have in common four elements: geometric use of standard fabric widths sewn together with minimal cutting; an open, overlapping front; an attached neckband sewn around the front opening; and sleeves consisting of a width of fabric attached to the selvages. The various parts of the kimono garment have changed over the years but the basic form of the kimono remains.

An adult kimono is made from a bolt, which is approximately 12.5 yards, of standard width cloth of approximately 14 inches. The ready-to-wear kimono is a relatively new phenomenon; traditional stores still display their wares as rows of fabric rolls. Two straight lengths of fabric make up the kimono body which are joined together up in the middle of the back and left open at the front from the shoulders down. Two half-width sections (okumi) are sewed in to each side. The okumi provides an amplitude of fabric where the gown is lapped, left over right, and held together by a sash (obi). The sleeves are attached to the sides of the body and are very wide. The size of the kimono depends on the individual, but the fabric is never cut to be made smaller, rather, the excess fabric is folded into the seams making the kimono fundamentally adjustable because the original bolt width is retained in the seams.

The kimono has its origins in China. From the time of the Han dynasty (approximately 200 B.C.- A.D. 200) the basic shape of Chinese clothing consisted of a front-wrapping robe with an attached collar and rectangular sleeves. It is believed that a Han-style kimonoid garment first made an appearance in Japan as early as the fourth century. During the seventh through tenth centuries, the reigns of the Sui and Tang dynasties provided the model of civilizations for the Far East and any culture aspiring to be recognized would have been drawn to adopt Chinese culture. An adoption of their aristocratic clothing is therefore expected.

~guest blogger, Carolyn Dandenault

Bashō and Haiku

2009-03-30T23:30:00.000-04:00

(This post by Sam starts with my favourite haiku. Thank you Sam!)

行春や/ 鳥啼魚の / 目は泪

Yuku haru ya / tori naki uo no/ me wa namida

Spring departing—/ the birds cry out / and the eyes of the fish / are full of tears

--Matsuo Bashō

http://carlsensei.com/classical/index.php/text/view/69

Haiku is a traditional Japanese form of poetry that derives from the linked verse form haiku no renga (Higgins 26), one specific definition states that it is “a record of a moment of emotion in which human nature is somehow linked to all nature” (Henderson in Higgins 26). Through its brevity of words and focus on natural experience, haiku evolved into the dominant poetic form for Japanese poets. Haiku poets aim to capture the clarity of an emotion in a small amount of syllables that can be understood by all audiences. Haiku practitioners use a kisetsu (seasonal lexicon) which refers specifically to the climates of Kyoto and Osaka—where the largest populations reside—but certainly speaks to all of Japan (Higgins 20). This poetic dialect has created a distinctive relationship between emotions, seasons and symbols, and in turn ties both reader and poet to the orbiting macro and microcosm.. In the twentieth century, many poets chose to break ties with traditional haiku by focusing on images rather than emotions, disregarding any reference to seasonal context.

One of the most significant founding-practitioners of haiku was Matsuo Bashō (1644-94), a committed Zen Buddhist. His poetry has been continually popular and influential for poets well into the twenty-first century and the cause of many celebrations. His school of thought emphasizes “kōgo kizuko (awakening to the high, returning to the low), fuga no makoto (truth of petic art), zōka zuijun (following the Creative), butzuga ichinyo (object and self as one), and fueki ryūkō (the unchanging and changing)” (Shirane 257), in order to “create poetry that was simultaneously orthodox and unorthodox, that was sanctioned even as it was transgressive”(257). Bashō’s religious conceptions were also emphasized in his works as he “incorporated orthodox Neo-Confucian thought…hoping to raise the status of haikai, [and] give it a spiritual and cosmological backbone]” (298). Today there are many English translations available of his works and is hailed as a foundation Japanese haiku poet.

Though it is indigenously Japanese, haiku has also pervaded Western concepts of poetry and was particularly influential on the American Imagism movement. Ezra Pound’s famous poem “In the Station of the Metro”: “The apparition of these faces in the crowd; / Petals on a wet, black bough” (Untermeyer ed. 106) does not conform to traditional Japanese haiku but was a driving force for its popularity in America. There are many Western misconceptions about haiku because of errors made in translations from Japanese to English. It is especially concerning for the belief that haiku must be written in three lines with seven, five, and seven syllables but in the Japanese form it may be written in one or two lines with a more concise sounding syllabic structure (Barnhill 5).

More translations of Bashō’s poetry:

http://www.haikupoetshut.com/basho1.html

~guest blogger, Samantha Schwartz

Can you pass the salt, please?

2009-03-30T12:00:00.001-04:00

(This is Robert's post on salt. The title of this post really cracks me up. Thank you Robert!)

We use it to give taste to our food. We have many elaborate ways of distributing it on our Montreal streets in the wintertime in order to prevent us from slipping on the ice. We throw a pinch of it over our shoulder for good luck when we spill it. These are merely a few ways we use salt in our every day lives. Salt has been, for ages, one of the most essential elements to the human diet. In the Jewish religious tradition, the Lord tells Aaron that the sacred gifts given to the Lord are to be Aaron’s and his offspring as an everlasting “covenant of salt” before the Lord (Num 18:19 TANAKH). This valuable food preservative became symbolic of the permanence of the covenant people. In the Christian tradition, Jesus speaks to his disciples and tells them that “you are the salt of the earth” (Matthew 5:14 RSV) (Deatrick 41), suggesting that the disciples are now the most important element of witness to the world. Homer called “salt” divine and Plato named it “a substance dear to the gods” (Casal 75). But why is salt used in the Japanese religious tradition and what significance does it have?

Salt is known to be a preserver from impurity. In the purification rituals of misogi (washing one’s body – similar to the Christian concept of baptism) salt is used in order to remove all “spiritual dirt” from the individual (Casal 75). Within Shinto purification rituals, salt is one of the three items that are offered to the kami (rice and water being the other two) as instruments that ward off evil spirits. Since evil spirits abide within impurity, the purity of the salt drives them away. For this reason, salt is scattered in a location in order to cleanse and purify the area. A good example of this can be seen when a child is born. The room where the mother gives birth is purified with salt (and water) and the mother may also purify herself with salt or a salt-water bath after the delivery. Birth being a source of impurity transgressing the border between the land of the living and the land of the dead it is necessary to purify both those involved (e.g. the mother) and the place of the transgression (e.g. the delivery room) (Norbeck 272-273). Similarly, at a funeral ceremony, two small mounds of salt (known as the shio-hana, salt-flowers) will be found on either side of the entrance of the house. Once the coffin is gone, the house will be purified of any spirits by scattering salt over the floors. Those who attend the funeral will usually sprinkle salt-water over the coffin at the graveside, and will themselves be sprinkled with salt before returning to their homes, all in the effort of exorcising the ghost which might have accompanied the person (Norbeck 275).

At weddings, salt has two significant meanings. When the bride leaves her family home, the small mounds of salt at the door are used because her departure is similar to that surrounding the death of a person. Because the bride leaves her family’s home and becomes fully integrated with her husband’s family, the bride is considered by her family as symbolically dead (Casal 79). Salt may also be used at the wedding ceremony itself, both as a purifying agent as well as provide the couple the “force of life” which is attributed to salt (ibid). You may also find these little salt mounds (salt-flowers) at the entrances to commercial establishments, like restaurants, stores, theatres, etc. There significance is again two-fold. They first act as a purifying agent that prevents evil or misfortune from entering the particular establishment, but they also act to invite good business and patrons (Casal 82).

Finally, when watching a sumo match, you might have been wondering why the participants scattered salt in the ring. The tradition originated centuries ago when two contending parties entered into a sort of duel in order to sort out their differences, the outcome of the duel being somewhat a divine ordeal that was to be abided by everyone. They used the salt, therefore, to purify the area of the duel and the contenders that would be at the mercy of the mystical powers of the divine (Casal 87).

Salt, in the tradition of Japanese religions, has a sacred quality to it that contributes to the purification of a place or person when borders have been transgressed. It is itself a pure substance that wards away evil and re-establishes order.

~guest blogger, Robert Camara

The Heartbeat of Japan

2009-03-30T06:00:00.000-04:00

(Sunpreet gives us this cool post on taiko. Thanks Sunpreet!)

Pulsating through the villages of Japan, this thunderous beat resonates a sound so deep that it renders a spiritual experience to all those who listen. You may be reading this and thinking, okay, so the heartbeat of Japan is a drum? What’s special about that? Let me tell you, this drum is no ordinary musical instrument. It’s the instrument of life.

More formally known as the taiko, this Japanese drum is played during religious ceremonies and festivals. Traditionally, these drums were used to drive away evil spirits and awaken the vigor of warriors during war. In modern times, the taiko is not only used as a musical instrument; but also as means of physical activity. The rhythmic beat of this drum has inspired people to connect as a ‘global community’.

Taiko literally translates into “fat drum”. The taiko is a percussion instrument and is usually played with a drumstick called a bachi. The drum itself varies in different shapes and sizes. The largest drum is called the adaiko which is made from a single piece of wood. Other types of taiko drums include the o-daiko (big drum), uchiwa-daiko (fan drum) and the hira-daiko (flat drum). The trees that are used to make the taiko drums are over a hundred years old. Each drum is designed and tailored around a particular festival or purpose. For example, during a religious Shinto rite, the dou-daiko is usually played. The dou-daiko is known for being used during religious ceremonies since its large exterior was central in displaying its importance during the ceremony. It is also important to note that only priests were allowed to play the drum for the duration of the ceremony. It was thought that they were the ones able to channel the energies associated with the taiko and the gods.

The importance of the taiko drum can be revealed through Japanese History. Although the exact time of when it was introduced is not clear, it’s influences seem to stem from China and Korea. It is thought that this instrument was introduced to Japan during the Nara Period (710-794). In religion, the taiko found a place within both Shinto and Buddhism. It was believed that these drums were inhabited by a god and that it would bring prosperity to the villages. This central idea led to the framework of Japanese religions to be built around the drums. Hence, special ceremonies in both Shinto and Buddhism were celebrated with the beat of the taiko. In Buddhism, the taiko influenced “Bon dancing”; where the drum was its feature performance. Shinto was also heavily influenced by the ways of the taiko since shrines were accustomed to play the drum while praying to deities. Even chanting was rhythmically adapted to flow with the beat of the drum to enhance its strength. In terms of village festivals, the taiko drum was used as a tool to rouse the villagers and get them to participate in the festivities. The taiko was able to stimulate the crowd through its vibrating sound. Since these festivals were based on seasonal changes, the drum was designed to either play a sound to ensure a bountiful crop or to thank the deities of a good harvest.

The influence of the taiko in terms of the 21st century is reflective of the Japanese community. In terms of participating in a festival, the community helps to make it a success. These festivals are supposed to bring people together and provide a form of escapism from the daily routines of ordinary life. The taiko drum is an essential component in bringing the community together. A new concept of taiko drumming, called the “Taiko Ensemble” allowed for large numbers of people to participate. This new concept is flourishing in modern times since it creates a synergistic energy amongst the participants. Ensemble drumming was originated by Daihachi Oguchi, who formed the first taiko ensemble. This was introduced in Japan in 1951. Several other ensemble groups have emerged since then and have influenced the world of music. Since the ensemble recreates the sound of the drum through different motions and by interacting with one another; it is also a form of great physical endurance. The power necessary in order to play the drum while still producing an invigorating sound requires stamina. Thus, the physical activity involved in playing the drum has made it become not only a form of relaxation but also a type of recreation activity as well.

The sound of the taiko drum will always be penetrating through the hearts of the Japanese people. More importantly, however, is that its sound has the power to enrapture all of our souls since it’s the basis for human rhythm.

A short video showing the magnificence of a taiko drumming performance:

~guest blogger, Sunpreet Dhaliwal

Sake Objects

2009-03-29T12:43:00.003-04:00

(As a follow-up to Garland's post on tea, below, here is Joshua's post on sake. Thanks Joshua!)

For centuries, sake has been the most important and popular intoxicant in Japanese society. It has played a significant role as the object of religious worship and traditional ceremonies. According to the Japan Sake Brewers Association, "In Japan, sake has always been a way of bringing our gods and people together" (http://search.japantimes.co.jp/cgi-bin/ek20071016wh.html). The religious function of sake, therefore, can be seen as an intermediary between the real world and the spirit world. With such an important function to fulfill within the religious realm, many objects associated with the drinking of sake have also taken on a religious significance.

For example, the Omiwa Shrine in Nara Prefecture houses a deity of sake brewing. The sugi (Japanese cedar) leaves at the shrine were traditionally used to create a sugidama, which is a container made of tightly bound leaves used to store sake. Following the first batch of sake made at a brewery each year, it is placed in a sugidama, and hung out in front of the brewery. The sugi tree and its leaves are religiously significant for the Japanese as it is said that if sake is placed in the sugidama, it cannot go bad (http://www.esake.com/Knowledge/Newsletter/JT/JT2000/jt2000_20.html).

Also made from the sugi tree is the masu, a square box of 180 millilitres made from sugi wood which is traditionally used to drink sake from. During feudal times, the masu was used to measure rice but over time came to be used as a cup for sake. This new function arose because the strong cedar taste associated with the masu complemented the sugidama’s flavor. However in modern times, the masu has generally been replaced by the ochoko or simply a glass. In Japanese restaurants though, it is not uncommon to see a mix of the past and the present: a glass placed inside a masu, with both the glass and the masu filled to the top with sake as a sign of hospitality.

In addition to the religious and traditional significance of objects associated with sake, many are also works of art. This can be seen in the variability of artistically designed tokkuris (flasks) or ochokos (cups). Unlike in Western society where glasses and bottles associated with drinking alcohol have little artistic relevance, artistry in objects associated with sake is essential to one’s enjoyment of the sake. The tokkuri is a ceramic flask in which sake is typically served. It usually has a large body and a narrow neck, however, it may come in all shapes and sizes. The tokkuris are hand made by potters. Same goes for ochokos, which are small cups from which to drink sake. They usually broaden at the neck to allow the aroma of the sake to move upwards. It is believed that the nicer the tokkuri or ochoko is, the more enjoyment one will receive from drinking its contents(http://www.e-yakimono.net/html/cup-shapes.htm). Therefore, as a result of the importance placed on sake in Japanese culture, the objects associated with its brewing and drinking have also taken on a special significance.

~guest blogger, Joshua Kropveld

Tea in a Japanese Tea Ceremony

2009-03-29T12:25:00.008-04:00

(This very helpful post on tea is by Garland--thank you Garland!)

The tea used during the Japanese tea ceremony was chosen as it reflects upon a much more considerable picture in the balance of the cosmos, along with the other utensils used during this vital ceremony. When considering tea, it is essential to examine the idea of the tea ceremony as a general practice in Japanese religion. It is argued that the tea ceremony originated from a religious practice of the Buddhist Zen sect, in which a certain service would gather and take tea in front of the image of the Buddha who had introduced Zen to China (Reitz 77).

Although tea has a meditative implication, it is argued by numerous scholars that it holds significance when examining the notion of purity. It was first asserted by the priest Murata Shuko in the 14th century that four values were central to the concept of the tea ritual: reverence, respect, purity, and tranquillity (Anderson 30). It is claimed that the tea used in the tea ritual has great consequence with regard to purification, as it has an association with physical and spiritual purity appropriate for those who approach sacred places (Anderson 30). It is further argued by scholar Kakuzo Okakura that the concept of tea represents purity and harmony, and the manner in which the person is able to worship the social order and hierarchy (Okakura 2005).

The tea bowl used in the duration of the Japanese tea ritual an important and celebrated utensil. When examining the magnitude of the tea ceremony, it is said that the bowl used in the Japanese tea ritual represents an important piece in the reunification of the cosmos (Anderson 488). The tea bowl, as most utensils in the ceremony, represent incorporation of the guest-host relationship as well. It is argued by scholar Dorinne Kondo that the tea bowl contains the most important element of the tea ceremony: a thick tea called the koicha, which the host drinks and shares with his or her guests (Kondo 291). This is said to be the “climax” of the tea ceremony, as this is the unification of the guest and host relationship. As the guest and the host share their first cup of tea, they are experiencing tranquillity together. It is emphasized by scholar Jennifer Anderson that in this moment, both guest and host have the opportunity experience a sense of “…wholeness, health and holiness” (Anderson 488). The symbols that connect the host and guest to their ancestors, to society and the cosmos are said to be concentrated in this cup of tea (Anderson 488).

After this important ritual has taken place, an examination begins in which the history of each tea implement is discussed, allowing the relationship for the guest and host to prosper (Kondo 291). Through this reunification of the guest and host, and the examination of purity in the Japanese tea ritual, the tea bowl is an important utensil because it is part of a large depiction of a reunification of the heavens.

~guest blogger, Garland Elysia Yardley

Origami (2)

2009-03-25T06:05:00.001-04:00

(This is Tara's take on origami, with pictures from Adam. Thank you Tara!)

Origami literally means folded paper. The root “oru” means folding and kami, as we already know can be translated as paper. Like other forms of kami we have encountered, paper is believed to be sacred. , Its origins are unknown; however the practice of origami can be traced back to China and Japan. This practice of paper folding is not unique to Asia however. History reveals how forms of paper folding were also present in Europe in the 1400’s. Similar to other such practices such as kirigami (paper cutting) and kumigami (paper assembly), origami is one of several types of paper manipulation that brings about the creation of new forms. Origami varies in shapes, forms and degree of complexity.The practice of origami has two distinct rules. The first is that only one sheet of square paper can be used, and this sheet of paper cannot be cut, torn or ripped in any way. Although the ancient Chinese practice of katashiro used special cut pieces of shrine paper in purification rituals. When trade between China and Japan increased during the Muromachi period, the practice of paper folding was adopted by the Japanese. A piece of paper is folded over and over to make various forms and shapes. For hundreds of years, the most complex of patterns topped at 20 steps of folding. Today highly skilled origami practitioners form shapes that can include over 100 steps.

The practice of origami in Japan can be traced back to the Heian period, where samurai warriors would give one another gifts decorated with folded pieces of paper called noshi. Noshi are folded pieces of paper that hold a small strip of a sort of dried meat which was believed to be a symbol of good luck. A form of origami can also be traced back to ancient Shinto marital practices. In Shinto weddings, folded paper butterflies were used to represent the bride and groom in a wedding ceremony (wiki).

A common form of origami is the paper crane, which today stands as a symbol of peace. This is attributed to a young girl named Sadako Sasaki. Sadako was 2 years old when the Atomic bomb hit Hiroshima. She was left with no visible scars or injuries, however 8 years after the fact, Sadako began to fall ill and developed leukemia, a result of the radiation emitted from the bomb. While in her hospital bed, Sadako began to fold paper cranes out of bits of paper, in hopes that they would help her recover from her illness. She continued folding cranes up until her death on October 25th 1955. After her death a campaign was erected and the Children’s Peace Monument was constructed called, the Tower of a Thousand Cranes, dedicated to Sadako and all the other children who lost their lives in Hiroshima. The site is filled with paper cranes brought by visitors as a symbol of peace.

Pieces of folded paper are used to construct gohei or shide, the folded paper which hangs from shimenawa, the straw ropes that have been described in previous blogs by Natasha and Robert. The paper is believed to draw good spirits to the site. Today Origami is used in a multitude of fashions ranging from mathematics, to therapy for physical and mental patients because it requires the use of both body and mind.

~guest blogger, Tara Viglione

Origami (1)

2009-03-25T06:00:00.001-04:00

(I have two entries on origami in my inbox, so here they are as a one-two punch. This first one is by Rachel. Thank you Rachel!)

Origami—Paper Miniatures of the World

Around a thousand years ago, if you weren’t a member of the Japanese nobility, you would have almost certainly been too poor to afford paper for origami (or 折り紙 a compilation of the word oru, to fold and kami, or paper). A few hundred years after that, in the Muromachi period, paper had become cheap enough that it could be used by everyone, but your class would have been obvious based on which style you folded your paper in, as only the Samuri folded in the Ise manner, while farmers and peasants folded in the style of the Ogasawara school.(Engel, 23-24). It was only in the Tokugawa or Edo period (1603-1867) that class was no longer a factor in origami. In this period a variety of innovations were made in origami as well, such as the creation of the bird base (http://www.origami-instructions.com/origami-bird-base.html), which can be used (somewhat predictably) to form the orizuru, or paper crane (http://www .origami-instructions.com/origami-crane.html) and its clumsier but movable cousin, the flapping bird (http://www.origami-instructions.com/origami-flapping-bird.html) as well as a variety of patterns that aren’t related to birds at all. It is in this period as well that the oldest surviving origami book was written--Hiden Senbazuru Orikata or, How to Fold One Thousand Paper Cranes (http://www.origami.gr.jp/Archives/Model/Senbazuru/index-e.html) which included instructions for how to make the bird base, as well as instructions for paper cranes connected in a variety of manners ranging from the beautiful to the ridiculous. (Engel, 24) Although nowadays cutting the paper is viewed as a kind of heresy, at least in the western origami world, cutting the paper into a variety of interconnected squares is necessary to created all but the simplest design in this book. Although origami itself did not originate solely in

Japan

, nor exclusively in

China

, where the Japanese borrowed it from, origami originating from

Japan

in particular is a prime example of the art of miniaturization. Like a haiku seeks to conjure up an entire scene from its three lines, origami uses a small piece of paper to create a plant, animal or even a mountain. (Engel, 23) Although more recently many (particularly western) origami creators have sought to make exact representations of what they are representing, some of the most beautiful origami designs capture what they are seeking to represent in stylizations that reach to its essence.

Regardless of whether what is created is stylized or an attempt at a more technically correct representation, all origami creators must work from the single sheet of paper. Although the texture of the paper, or its colour or size may differ, all designs in origami are constrained to this one sheet of paper, and to some (relatively) simple folds. In Taoism, this square is seen as a sort of first form, as it were, (Engel) and it is then from this form that all others can begin to arise in the world of origami. Given the constraint that is contained in this single piece of paper, some origami artists liken the process of folding a plant or animal from a piece of paper to one of creation, starting with a sort of primordial nothingness, and gradually progressing from there to the final form. In this manner, then, origami becomes not only a miniaturization of what it seeks to represent, but a miniaturization of the creation of that thing as well.

~guest blogger, Rachel Katler

The Samurai Sword

2009-03-24T17:18:00.002-04:00

(This post comes to us from Benjamin--thank you Benjy)

Swords have had special significance in Japanese culture dating as far back as the Kojiki. Chapter 19 of the Kojiki tells of a sword which Susa‐nö‐wo (brother of Ama‐terasu) finds in the middle tail of an eight headed and eight tailed dragon, after breaking his own sword while slaying the beast. The recovered sword, known as Kusa‐nagi, was given to Ama‐terasu by Susa‐nö‐wo, who later gave the sword (along with a sacred mirror and jewel) to her Grandson Ninigi, who handed them down to his great-grandson Jimmu Tenno (Ashkenazi 262). These three items, the Imperial Regalia of Japan, are the marks of divinity of Jimmu, the first emperor of Japan, and ground the divinity of Japan’s royal family and the Japanese culture as a whole.

The Samurai sword (katana) in particular, has taken on both historical and spiritual significance in Japanese traditions. The art of making Samurai swords is complex, and despite lack of scientific knowledge, is often considered to have attained perfection around 1,200 CE at the hands of the Bizen smiths (Museum of Fine Arts Bulletin 4/21). Though the craftsman would hardly be able to explain everything that was required, they had developed their art to a precise science. A brief documentary on the traditional making of the Samurai swords explains how only the purest iron-ore is used to make the steel known as tamahagane, and how scrutinizing the craftsman must be in choosing the pieces to use. Once the steel is prepared and the purest pieces chosen, it is formed into a block and the craftsmen begin to hammer it, and fold it over itself countless times, such that there results in more than 5,000 layers per centimetre of steel. Once the shaping is complete and another layer of harder steel is coated around the non-cutting edge of the sword, it is covered with a secret mixture of clay and charcoal, heated to 800 degrees, and rapidly cooled to harden. It is said that a single sword can take three men three months to produce.

It is in the precise moment of cooling and hardening that the sword is believed to attain to its spirit; “at the critical moment of hardening, when the smith plunged the glowing blade into the water, a part of his spirit was believed to enter the steel” (MFAB). It is believed that the state of mind of the craftsman at that moment is imbued in the sword, and therefore, various ceremonies and rituals surround the process in order to guarantee the sword’s spiritual strength and virtue.

Various other elements of the process, including the clay covering applied before the firing (which gives certain parts of the blade a non-mirrored finish) and certain decorations and inscriptions along the blade are also designed to give each sword its unique character. The finished product is one which symbolizes the spirit of both the craftsman, and the samurai who uses it; it is said that the sword is the soul of the samurai (MFAB).

Museum of Fine Arts Bulletin Vol. 4 No. 21: http://www.jstor.org/stable/4423299

~guest blogger, Benjamin Sherer

Our starting point for class today...

2009-03-19T14:00:00.000-04:00

The Japanese Death Poem (Jisei)

2009-03-19T06:00:00.000-04:00

(Megan gives us this timely post on jisei. Thank you Megan!)

Death poems are poems composed moments before an individual confronts death and hence are “farewell” poems “to life” (Hoffmann, 27). They are said to represent a divergence from the emphasis on “politeness” in Japanese culture and rather represent a shift towards one’s “spiritual legacy” (Hoffmann, 27-28). Death poems portray no concern for the division of property or for a proper and correct salutation; rather they vividly express the sentiments of an individual standing face-to-face with death. The poem itself is normally written in the tanka or haiku style and often mentions the season of the author’s death.

The tradition of writing a death poem became widespread in Japan during the Meiji period. However, the first death poem is seemingly found in the Kojiki when the figure Yamato Takeru-no-Mikoto recognizes he is fatally ill and sings a death song before dying (Hoffman, 44). The practice was often employed by warriors, poets and Zen monks--even the Japanese author Yukio Mishima wrote a death poem before committing ritualized seppuku.

A glance into the death poetry of Zen monks proves both interesting and at times humorous. There is a debate among monks whether the composition of a death poem is actually appropriate. Death poetry is sometimes considered a source for egotism, a way to impress and a “mere formalism” (Hoffmann, 76). This very tension finds its way into actual death poems.

Consider the monk Toko’s death poem which clearly states:

“Death poems / are mere delusion-- / death is death.” (Hoffmann, 78)

Yet, given the tradition, many monks continue to write death poems. Monks’ death poems are often pervaded by a “lack of regret” and tend to “underscore the meaninglessness of life and death” (Long, 39). A monk’s death poem should not express a lust for salvation as this would exemplify attachment. Instead, the poem should express indifference to death.

Consider the poem of Kogetsu Sogan:

“Katsu! / Katsu! / Katsu! / Katsu!” (Hoffmann,106)

The word “katsu” is loosely defined as the “sharp cry used by the Zen teacher and pupil at the moment of enlightenment” and its use here highlights Kogetsu Sogan’s wisdom and emphasis on a correct perception of reality in his final moments. (Hoffmann, 106) In fact, the word katsu appears commonly throughout the death poems of monks.

Nevertheless, it is important that death poems are free of the restraints and emerge without a desire to impress or inspire. This unrestrained expression may sometimes lack words. Consider the death poem written by Shisui who upon approaching death, “grasped his brush, painted a circle, cast the brush aside and died”. (Hoffmann, 295) This symbol is known as the enso which is prominent in Zen Buddhism and indicates the emptiness of all things.

In this way, death poems provide us insight into the Japanese perception of death and the afterlife.

Consider the death poem of the haiku poet Saimaro:

“I’ll cross the ridge / up to the yonder side: / journey into spring.” (Hoffmann, 275)

Indeed, in this poem there is reference to crossing over mountains or a “ridge” to reach the world of the dead. (Hoffmann, 275) This seems increasingly familiar in light of our study of the Ainu perception of death wherein the world of the dead is located on the other side of the mountains.

A death poem is a touchstone for understanding religion and death in a Japanese context. It can elucidate the insight of a monk, highlight one’s anticipation of the afterlife or some cases depict one’s nostalgia. Some poems express detachment while others express a desire to “linger in this world for a bit longer” and yet accept that “death must come as part of the natural course of things” (Long, 39). What remains important is that death poems provide us a key to understanding the many notions and religious conceptions surrounding death within the Japanese religious imagination.

I’ll leave you with one of my favorite death poems written by the poet Moriya Sen’an:

“Bury me when I die / Beneath a wine barrel / in a tavern. / With luck / The cask will leak.” (Hoffmann, 81)

For more death poems check out:

http://www.quietspaces.com/deathpoems.html

For an interesting commentary on Japanese Death poetry check out:

http://journals.lww.com/academicmedicine/Fulltext/2002/01000/Four_Japanese_Death_Haiku___Commentary__.11.aspx

And if you are feeling particularly inspired check out this book by Yoel Hoffmann! Hoffmann, Yoel. Japanese Death Poems: Written by Zen Monks and Haiku Poets on the Verge of Death. Rutland: Tuttle Company Inc, 1986.

~guest blogger, Megan Rusciano

Shishi (Stone Lion)

2009-03-18T13:13:00.004-04:00

(This post comes to us from Kathryn--thanks Kathryn!)

Upon entering a Japanese Buddhist temple or Shinto shrine, you might notice two intimidating characters sitting silently just outside the doors. Known in the West as stone lions, Japanese shishi guard the entrance to the temple or shrine. Shishi are fierce looking creatures, with flowing manes and barrel chests and they adopt a powerful stance as they await approaching visitors. The mythology surrounding the creature underscores their strong, steadfast nature. It is believed that “shishi throw each cub over a cliff to test its vitality and toughness” (Ashkenazi 119). Should these cubs survive, they prove their robust resilience and strength. What more could you ask for in a guardian? Shishi are representations of lions, and yet it seems curious that an animal not indigenous to Japan would be chosen as the guardian of Japanese religious sites. However, shishi were imported to Japan from China, via Korea. This explains the various names by which the mythical creature is known. Shishi are also known as kara-shishi or “Chinese Lion” and koma-inu or “Korean dog” (Schumacher).

Throughout different historical periods, the guardian tradition varies slightly: sometimes two lions are placed together, but sometimes a lion is paired with a lion dog. The lion dog is almost identical to the lion but can be identified by the horn on its head. Tradition shows that a male lion is always paired with a female lion. In addition, one of the lions (usually male) has an open mouth while the other (usually female) has a closed mouth. The open and closed mouth relates to the ‘A’ and ‘Un’ sounds which begin and finish the Japanese alphabet and thus “the combination of the two symbolically encompasses the universe” (Kyoto National Museum). This harks back to the phenomenon of miniaturization and the effects of microcosm on macrocosm. The cosmos is symbolically located within the two guardian lions. Together, they represent the entire universe; they complement one another and signify balance. Another possible explanation for the open/closed mouth is that the open-mouthed lion scares away evil spirits and the closed-mouthed lion invites and shelters good spirits (Schumacher). It is interesting to note that the male lion is associated with activity and the female lion is associated with passivity and warmth as a sanctuary for good spirits. The female lion is also often accompanied by her cubs (Ashkenazi 207).

Although incredibly intimidating, these lions or lion dogs are entrusted with the responsibility of protecting temples, shrines and tombs. The image of the shishi has even been tattooed on pregnant women in order to help with childbirth (Schumacher). Evidently, shishi are charged with the duty of protecting borders; they appear in places where borders are being transgressed. It is especially interesting that these lion-like figures should appear at every encounter with the world of the dead. Temples, tombs and childbirth all present a situation of interaction between this world and another. Their very presence is indicative of the importance of maintaining borders. Shishi invoke a sense of security; they create a safe space, a balance and the general feeling that everything is in its place.

~guest blogger, Kathryn Blain

RICE: A Passageway to the Deities.

2009-03-16T23:01:00.004-04:00

(This post is by Kelly. Kelly, thank you so much!)

It is difficult to learn about the culture of Japan without somehow hearing the powerful four-letter word: RICE. Rice acts as a powerful agent of purity within Japanese culture, a focal point of religious symbolism and social hierarchy throughout the island nation. As we have seen so far this semester, rice is often found in the form of deities. The Japanese were taught to value the significance of rice through a variety of influences, religion being one of the strongest forces. As we have seen in the Kojiki Tales, religion influenced strongly through the use of myths. In one specific myth of the Kojiki, Amaterasu, the mother of grain, sends her grandson the ‘first’ Emperor Jinmu to rule Earth. Upon his descent, Amaterasu gives Jinmu some original grains of rice that she grew herself in Heaven (Ohnuki-Tierney, p. 228). On Earth, Emperor Jinmu turned areas of vast wilderness into great lands of rice using the grains given to him by Amaterasu. This story is of great significance in Japan, for it illustrates the generative power held by Amaterasu, establishing a unique relationship between rice of this world and deities of the spiritual realm. As a result, the view has followed that humans must rejuvenate themselves and their communities by harnessing the power and energy of the deities (Knecht, p. 11). Thus, individuals can harness this power either by receiving purity from the deities through ritual or by internalizing the divine, becoming one with the deities through consumption.

Currently, rice is considered to be a staple of Japanese food. However, what many are unaware of is that this current understanding of rice in Japanese culture is not entirely accurate of its use historically. According to King, in the later half of the Taisho period, rice was in scarce supply, and it was used as a means of persuasion, promising workers rice three meals a day if they were to move to the city (p. 11). Nonetheless, although rice has been popular since the ancient Yayoi period, historically it was reserved for the deities and the upper class and not until recently did it become something for all to enjoy.

As a symbol of energy and life, rice has become a central pillar of commensality within Japanese culture, acting as a link between humans and deities. In celebration of this, rice comes in a number of different forms, namely as mochi (pounded rice) and as sake (rice wine) (Knecht, p. 7). Mochi comes in many different varieties but it is most famously associated with Japanese New Year celebrations where special mochi rice is pounded into cakes and adorned with paper flowers. These mochi cakes are believed to be material embodiments of the diety, they are often prepared as offerings for the New Year diety and later enjoyed by the family (Knecht, p. 8). Rice, in all its forms is paramount in bonding the people of Japan to the higher powers because it establishes a connection between the world of the living and the world of the dead, allowing people to share with the spirits in the intimacy of eating.

Now that we’ve covered some of the symbolism of rice in Japanese religion, check out this links to see rice in action!

A video of the Japanese making mochi:

~guest blogger, Kelly Quinn

Komainu: Guardians of the Shrine

2009-03-16T07:00:00.003-04:00

(This post comes from Maïda. Those of you in the Esoteric Buddhism class should check out paragraph two. Thank you Maïda!)

Komainu are lion statues found at most shrines and many temples, though some shrines will have a different animal, such as shrines to Inari which have a stone fox as their guardian. These statues are placed in pairs at the entrance of temples or shrines, often beside torii or at the top of stairs. They are generally made of stone, though they can be made of other materials such as bronze, wood, iron, or ceramics.

The pairs of statues are male and female, with the male presented with an open mouth and the female with a closed mouth (Ashkenazi, 207), which is common in the depiction of a variety of mystical animals (Joly, 9) – this is said to be because they are speaking the Sanskrit primordial sound “a-um” (Prideaux), a combination of sounds which were said to be the first sound which began the universe (“a”) and the last sound which will conclude it (“m”). This combination was later written “A-U-M” which is a syllable with many layers of meaning (symbolizing various triads and trinities) and a syllable at the core of many Hindu mantras. The duality of male and female, as well as “a” and “m,” also indicate “Chinese ideas of complementarity and opposition between yang (male) and yin (female) universal principles”(Ashkenazi, 209).

Lions are a powerful creature in Japanese religious iconography: they are often presented with bodhisattvas, particularly with Monju Bosatsu, the bodhisattva of wisdom (who is often identified with Tenjin the kami of scholarship). He is “Often pictured as a young infant carrying in his left hand a scroll and in his right an upright naked sword, with which one can defeat the passions that interfere with studies. He rides a shishi lion, a symbol of majesty and rule and the icon of protectiveness toward the young. The shishi, like Monju, loves and protects its young but also tests them severely” (Ashkenazi, 217). Lions are said to be kind but powerful protectors, particularly of the young, and their fierce protectiveness is thought to be the reason for their presence as temple protectors (Ashkenazi 209).

There are no lions native to Japan, China, or Korea, which is taken to explain both the strange naming of the koma-inu (lit. “Korean dog”) and their depiction, which often more resembles a dog than a lion (Ashkenazi, 209). The depiction of lions actually originates in India, and were imported by the Chinese where their portrayal seems to have been influenced by the dogs which were the pride of the Chinese Imperial family (Joly, 161). The subsequent Japanese interpretation was even less familiar with the original and eventually called “dogs” – “Korean dogs” because of their transmission through Korea (Ashkenazi, 209).

Komainu can be confused with “karashishi” or “karajishi” (“Chinese lion”). The statues in front of temples are most consistently referred to as “komainu” (Moran, 140). Lion figures are thought to have been brought into Japan from China, most likely in two distinct migrations: the komainu from China’s Tang dynasty (7th to 10th century) and those properly referred to as kara jishi from Song China during the Kamakura period (Encyclopaedia of Shinto).

The lions are significant parts of the temple grounds ; there is an incident recorded in the records of the Asuka Shrine in 1628 of someone being executed for stealing a koma-inu (Earhart, 1966).

~guest blogger, Maïda Vandendorpe

The Imperial Regalia: Sanshu no Jingi 三種の神器

2009-03-15T12:00:00.004-04:00

(This post comes to us from Jessica. Check out the art below. Thank you Jessica!)

The Japanese “Three Imperial Regalia” are objects symbolic of the Japanese Imperial line’s descent from Amaterasu and the first emperor who came down from Heaven, thereby giving the emperor his justification. The three objects are thought to be housed separately in the three Imperial jingu or Shinto shrines, but they are kept out of the view of the public as they are arguably the most important objects of the Shinto tradition and are seen only by the Imperial family. These three shrines are “Ise Jingu in Mie prefecture, Atsuta Jingu in Nagoya, and Meiji Jingu in Tokyo.” (http://www.jref.com/glossary/sanshu_no_jingi.shtml). In the twentieth century, the term sanshu no jingi is comically used to refer to the three most important comforts of modern life as they apply “such as the refrigerator, washing machine and vacuum cleaner in the 1950's, or the color televsion, car and cooler (three "C's") in the 1970's” (http://www.jref.com/glossary/sanshu_no_jingi.shtml). The three sacred objects are considered symbolic of the Imperial line’s knowledge, courage, and mercy (http://query.nytimes.com/mem/archive-free/pdf?_r=1&res=9806E3D8103DEE32A25753C3A9659C946397D6CF). Without these three virtues, symbolized by the actual possession of the objects by each Imperial heir, the emperor is not considered worthy.

The "yasakani no magatama" is a necklace of jade beads which was given to Amaterasu by her father, Izanagi after she is born of his self-purification after his visit to Yomi. The term magatama means “curved jewel or soul,” indicating that Izanagi gave to Amaterasu all of himself. Since the Imperial family is descendent from Amaterasu and the magatama beads are transmitted through the lineage, the Emperor holds in his possession the soul of Izanagi, the creator, giving him the right to rule. Eventually, the beads are also used by the gods in luring Amaterasu out of her hiding. “Amaterasu finally gave the sacred jewel together with the mirror and sword to her grandson Ningi no Mikoto, when she sent him down to earth. He again handed the three regalia to his grandson Jimmu, the first emperor of Japan” (http://www.japan-guide.com/e/e2140.html).

Amaterasu, the Sun goddess, hid herself away from the world in a cave, depriving the world of its light because she was afraid of death at the hands of her brother, also a noble child of Izanagi, Susa-no-wo. In order to lure her out of her cave and to reintroduce her life-giving light to the world, the other gods pretended to have a celebration of sorts outside her cave. When she heard the noise outside, Amaterasu was curious and asked what was going on. The gods replied that they had found a goddess greater than herself and that celebrations were being prepared. In shock and curiosity, Amaterasu opened the door of her cave a crack and looked out, whereupon the other gods held up the "yata no kagami" mirror to her and showed her her own reflected image, drawing her out of the cave and tricking her so that she couldn’t re-enter; thus the mirror holds the promise of light in the world.

The "kusanagi no tsurugi" sword was discovered by Susa-no-wo in the tail of the eight-headed dragon he had slain. An old couple was frightened of the dragon who had eaten all but one of their daughters and was coming back for her. Susa-no-wo, on a mission of redemption after his terrible behavior toward his sister, Amaterasu, and his punishment by the other gods, tricks the dragon by getting each of its heads drunk and then slaying it in its slumber. Subsequently, Susa-no-wo finds in its tail a magnificent sword which he gifts to his sister and reconciles with her.

Art:

http://library.artstor.org/library/iv2.html?parent=true

https://www.uwec.edu/philrel/shimbutsudo/images/3_treasures.jpg

http://content.answers.com/main/content/img/oxford/Oxford_Mythology/0192177478.Amaterasu.1.jpg

http://www.lotus.org/images/religions/lg/Lotus436W.jpg

~guest blogger, Jessica Tatlow

Haniwa – Those mysterious sculptures

2009-03-15T06:00:00.000-04:00

(This post is by Laura Nearing. Keep this one in mind for the next unit! Thanks so much Laura.)

The large tombs that characterized the Kofun period (C.E. 258-646), tumuli, were constructed for the elite. These tombs were covered with earth, forming burial mounds often in the shape of keyholes, and surrounded by moats. The tombs were furnished with extravagant burial goods, such as gold crowns and jewelry, bronze mirrors, glass objects, jade, and pottery. Perhaps the most striking tomb adornments, however, were the haniwa, sculptures placed outside the tombs. Haniwa figures surrounded the mound and the entrance to the tomb, and were positioned facing outward. Simple clay cylinders eventually evolved to more complex and even fanciful sculptures, including various human figures, animals, houses, and boats. Their exact meanings are unknown, but scholars believe that they acted as tomb guardians or provided some symbolic connection between life and afterlife – functioning not only as attendants to the departed, guardians of his tomb, and emblems of his status, but also as national symbols for a unified country.

Haniwa vary from 1 to 5 feet (30 to 150 cm) in height, the average being approximately 3 feet (90 cm) high. After smoothing and modeling the shapes, decorative details might be incised or combed with geometric patterns and painted with pigments of white, red, and blue. The features of the hollowed out eyes, noses and mouths gave the objects a mysterious charm. Haniwa were mass-produced during the 6th century, but after the arrival of Buddhism and the introduction to the practice of cremation, there was a decline in the building of tumuli and, thus, in the production of haniwa.

The makers of haniwa had to travel to the tomb sites, and some may have rented local Sue kilns to do their work. They may also have built a kiln to produce haniwa for a single tomb, and then abandoned it. The work done upon the death of a noble had to be completed quickly. It is suggested that the simplicity of their design, which imbues the haniwa with a mysterious quietness as one stares into their hollow eyes, may have resulted to the necessary mass production of figurines which needed to be quickly created for the tomb.

There is a theory that the soul of the deceases would reside in the haniwa. There are haniwa that are equipped with weapons and armor, and these are also thought to be containers for souls. The armor and weapons would drive away evil spirits and protect the buried from calamity. Since the horse another animal shaped haniwa were normally neatly arranged into a line, it is believed that they were part of a sending-off ceremony.

Perhaps these haniwa were similar to the idea of what we talked about in class for the Ainu. If haniwa were in fact part of a sending-off ceremony, perhaps they were similar to the idea of the Ainu sending-back ceremony. Here, the haniwa were in some way involved with the deceased and their move into the world of the dead, where the sending-back ceremony for the Ainu was to return the bear kami to the mountains - a seemingly much easier way to have a soul taken to where it now, rightly belonged. Perhaps this was because of the elites wealthier status. They could afford such extravagances and paid their way to a safe travel to the other world, rather than performing something similar to the much-involved sending-back ceremony of the Ainu. Of course the Ainu ceremony was for a kami, so perhaps I am completely off beat… but it was just a thought.

~guest blogger, Laura Nearing

Chopsticks (2)

2009-03-14T06:01:00.006-04:00

(And here's another take on chopsticks, from Lara. Thank you Lara!)

Chopsticks: Bridges to the Dead, the Divine and the Delicious

While in the West chopsticks may seem to be entirely secular implements, serving solely to complicate the process of eating rice, in Japan, chopsticks are closely connected to death and the divine. Chopsticks are said to have originated over 5000 years ago in China. They became prominent in China as eating utensils, and not just cooking tools, when a lack of fuel and resources around 500BCE meant that food was chopped into small pieces to facilitate rapid cooking. The use of chopsticks spread to Japan around 500 CE where they were used solely in religious ritual. The Japanese name for chopsticks is hashi, which also can mean bridge. This is an apt correlation, for chopsticks were originally used in Japan to bridge the mortal and divine realms as they intermediated the feeding of food to the gods. This explained why chopsticks in Japanese religious ceremonies have tapered ends on both sides (unlike Chinese chopsticks which are uniform in thickness), as one end is said to be for the gods and the other for the mortal.

In Japan chopsticks are still shaped according to their purpose and owner. The Japanese style of chopsticks for common eating is tapered only at one end, and sized according to age and gender: chopsticks for men are longer and heavier than those for women which are shorter and lighter chopsticks. Chopsticks for children are fitted to a child’s small hands. In this drawing, the second, third and forth set of chopsticks from the bottom are made in the Japanese style, for the use of a child, woman and man respectively.

Proper chopstick etiquette is important, for mishandling of chopsticks can not only make one appear gauche, but can be quite offensive. Two things never to do with chopsticks would be to stick chopsticks vertically in a bowl of rice and to reach for the same piece of food as someone else. Not placing chopsticks vertically is not done because this is how food is offered to deceased ancestors. Not reaching for the same piece of food as another person is not proper because in Japanese funeral ritual after the body has been cremated, two relatives of the deceased transfer the bones into an urn by together grasping each bone part with chopsticks. In both of these scenarios, chopsticks once again act as bridges, in this case bridging the world of the living with the world of the dead.

A final interesting note regarding chopsticks revolves around privacy, pollution and purity. In China, chopsticks are treated much like cutlery as in the West: large amounts of identical chopsticks are kept for general use by the household. However, in Japan, each member of the house typically has her or his own set of chopsticks and rice bowl which is used solely by them. It is worth speculating whether this is indicative of the transitory aspect of chopsticks in Japanese culture; in acting as bridges between worlds, chopsticks are powerful tools and thus have a flush of the divine even when used in secular contexts. This connection death and other worlds helps to explain why sharing one’s chopsticks would, in the Japanese context, be opening up oneself to possible pollution. By keeping individual chopsticks, one can monitor and protect their purity, a question we have been investigating thoroughly this semester.

Links:

How to use chopsticks as weapons (video).

Chopstick table etiquette (video).

The vast world of chopsticks (to see how many styles there are and for ordering).

An article about the ‘true cost’ of disposable chopsticks (in China, but still pertinent I thought).

~guest blogger, Lara Hollway

Chopsticks (1)

2009-03-14T06:00:00.006-04:00

(We have two submissions on chopsticks, so this will be a one-two punch. Here's the first post, from Will. Thank you Will!)

Chopsticks in Japanese folklore, ritual, and food culture

Most of us raised in the larger population centres of North America are at least passingly familiar with chopsticks as the exotic and, for some, confounding eating utensil (a few of my friends have sworn them off, out of frustration) traditional to Asian cuisine. What most of us in the west aren’t familiar with, however, is the lesser-known place of importance that chopsticks occupy in the material culture of Japanese religion. In Japan, chopsticks are connected with Shinto folklore and kami worship, as well as funeral rites.

Modern chopsticks are thought by archaeologists to have developed from kanabasami – tweezer-like utensils made of iron. These were among the items, like sake, offered to kami in ceremonial rituals. The belief was that when chopsticks were offered to a kami, its spirit inhabited the chopsticks, allowing it to dine with the humans. These offered chopsticks, are thought to have been what are known as ryokuchi-bashi, two sticks of white wood heavy in the centre and tapered at both ends. Most often, the wood used in the construction of the ryokuchi-bashi would be willow, from the ancient belief of the wood’s resistance to evil spirits and impurities. Also, due to the fact that it’s leaves form earlier in the spring then others, the willow is considered a lucky tree. Remnants of these beliefs subsist in modern Japanese food culture; the concept of a god inhabiting a pair of chopsticks with its vital energy and spirit, thus allowing their user to be imbued with this divine power, is likely the reason why special ryokuchi-bashi chopsticks are, to this day, used in weddings, new years celebrations, and other important festivals and feasts (Warrant 12). We see, in these traditional beliefs, chopsticks acting as a bridge between gods and humans, and accordingly the modern Japanese word for chopsticks, hashi (箸), means “bridge.”

Chopsticks are also important in traditional Japanese funeral rites, in the ritual treatment of the cremated remains. A blogger’s account of his grandfather’s traditional Japanese funeral details a ceremony in which the guests were offered a pair of mismatched chopsticks (one stick of wood and one of bamboo), and each encouraged to pick up, with the chopsticks, the bone fragments leftover following the cremation, transferring them to the urn in this way, starting with the feet to ensure the upright orientation of the body within the urn. Here, again, we see the effect of these rituals on common food culture: it is taboo to use mismatched chopsticks when eating. Other food-related taboos in Japan most likely related to the chopsticks use in the cremation ritual include the faux pas of passing of food directly from one person’s chopsticks to another’s – this resembles a ritual described in some funeral accounts of the bones being passed between guests in this way – and the taboo of sticking chopsticks in a bowl of rice and leaving them in a vertical position, which could come from a resemblance either to the customary incense offering in Buddhist funerals, or to the way in which a departed family member’s personal pair of chopsticks is stuck in the bowl of uncooked rice placed upon the family altar as an offering.

Chopsticks have been used in Japan since about the 8th century, so it is not surprising that they should have such significance. In Japan chopsticks are more than just simple eating utensils; they are important objects of tradition.

If you are one of those who have not yet mastered chopstick use or etiquette, and are inclined to participate in this aspect of Japanese culture, there are some links below to instructional resources on the subject.

Article on chopstick etiquette and use.

Instructional video on chopstick use.

The blog link to the full article containing a detailed account of a Japanese funeral.

~ guest blogger, Will Fox

Talking Trash in Japan

2009-03-13T06:00:00.002-04:00

(This post comes to us from Andrea Damiano. I'm sure anyone who has lived in Japan will agree, trash is taken very seriously. Andrea, thank you!)

I still remember when garbage day was once a week and everything went out in a single black plastic trash bag. Now I have to get up at 7am every Tuesday and Friday to leave disposables at the curb and on Thursday the recycling.
I admit I hate garbage day and dividing up trash, but a sense of urgent environmental consciousness forces me out of bed three times a week. Probably nothing would happen should I fail to comply, maybe at worst a warning or small fine from a surly city waste collector.

It’s a good thing I don’t live in Japan, where in recent years most community’s have restructured garbage codes and institutionalized a ‘no-waste’ lifestyle. Imagine sorting through 10 different trash categories everyday of the week: burnable, non-burnable, empty bottles, empty cans, PET (polyethylene terephthalate) bottles, plastic containers/packages, large-size trash, mirrors, thermometers and paper containers/packages.

Now imagine that each piece had to be cleaned, delivered in personalized transparent garbage bags and were monitored by an organization of your neighbors. What if instead of 10 categories, like in Yokohama, there were 35 or even up to 44, as is the case in the environmentally conscious town of Kamikatsu. These are real examples of how garbage collection is being revolutionized across Japan, whose green record puts North America to shame.

The enforcement of recent laws in Japan has decreased the amount of solid waste sent to landfills to only 16%, while comparatively the United States sends about 70% and has a disappointing national recycling average of about 34%. Kamikatsu, Japan’s model community for environmental action now has an 80% recycling rate, up from 55% only 10 years ago.

I promise, I have a point!

Historically, Japan has been ahead of the pack. In 1962 the first law to control air emissions was implemented and 14 other environmental laws were either enacted or amended by 1970. The United States and Canada trailed behind with their first legislation on clean air passed with much contention in the mid-1970’s.

Internationally Japan is responsible for politicking the Koyoto Protocol and hosting the 2008 G8 Summit with a driving environmental agenda.

There are thousands of interesting examples of Japan’s initiatives, from business efficiency to community projects to technological advancements and to trading or extracting from electronic trash (often called ‘urban mining’). Unfortunately, the constraints of this blog have forced me to limit them.

So, what does this have to do our RELG 352: Japanese Religions course? I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Japan has become the premier example of forging environmental consciousness in our tragedy of the commons. Since studying our course lectures and readings, I believe that there is something about the traditions and religions of Japan which has facilitated its green progression at a time when the world scrambles in reaction to pollution.

The state of pollution has always been a central concern to the Japanese civilization as it has been thought to bring about danger, misfortune and bad luck. As such, purification rituals are commonly undertaken in order to remove such pollution and restore good fortune. Ritualization and purification of pollution for both the living and the dead are central to Japan’s primary religions: Shinto and Buddhism. Even the Kojiki, Japan’s oldest book, outlines the balancing relationship between objects of pollution and purity.

For example in commenting on concepts of space in early Japan Professor of Anthropology, Emiko Ohnuki-Tierney, notes that then trash had to be brought to a specific area west of the house and that polluted objects were to be left outside the house until its odor had disappeared. It has also been traditionally thought unclean and taboo for excrement to be on a certain shore or to come into contact with old blood, cut hair or a dead body. These materials have dangerous power.

Are these example of early purification rituals really so different from the contemporary division of 30 trash categories to preserve the nature of Japan?

Although there are logically several reasons for the emphasis on environmental improvement, such as limited land space of the island and rapid development of industry in the last few decades, it however can be argued the Japanese also have a stronger obligation to nature and social harmony. It seems as though the culture is ripe to institutionalize environmental preservation and individuals are willing to comply with extensive trash responsibilities.

~guest blogger, Andrea Damiano

Mikoshi: Miniaturization of the Shinto Shrine

2009-03-13T06:00:00.000-04:00

(This post is by Ashley Mcrae--as she notes, it's a cool example of miniaturization. Thank you Ashley!)

In the Shinto tradition there are countless local festivals, or matsuri, that are dedicated to the kami of a Shinto Shrine. During many of these matsuri the kami is transported by a mikoshi to another sacred shrine, or to neighborhoods that support the Shinto shrine in order, to bestow blessings on the parishioners. This is the only time in the year that the kami is said to leave the Shrine. While the procession of the mikoshi is not the primary focus of matsuri it has become a highlight for the festive occasion; acting as a means to reestablish a bond between the kami and the community as well as creating a sense of solidarity amongst the community itself by the loosening of restraints - thought to be a dispensation of the kami (Ashkenazi) - or what can be termed as “carnival” according to Bakhtin.

It is commonly believed that the ritual of the mikoshi first started during the Nara period in 749 BCE when the kami Hachiman was transported to Toda-ji temple in Usa Jingu to oversee the construction of the daibutsu, or Great Statue of Buddha, ensuring health and prosperity (Japanese Architecture and Art Users Net System). However, the practice of carrying kami in mikoshi is believed to have only become ritualized in the Heian Era (794 -1192 BCE) in which the mikoshi would have, most likely, been in the form of a mirror with a branch of the sakaki tree or some other object of divine presence (Japan: An Illustrated Encyclopedia).

The mikoshi itself is commonly translated as a “portable shrine” but is in actuality a divine palanquin which is believed to be modeled after ancient Chinese forms of palanquins commonly used by the imperial family and the aristocracy (Askenazi). The architecture of the mikoshi resembles a miniature shrine with two or four pillars, walls, a roof, a verandah and a railing. Typically, the mikoshi is rectangular, hexagonal or octagonal in shape and are lavishly decorated with gold-plating and precious jewels which establishes the mikoshi as a work of art with ornate and detailed woodworking, metalworking, lacquer ware and died tapestries. The elaborateness of the mikoshi is believed to please the kami that is being transported inside. Some mikoshi may even have small torii inside to mark the sacred space of the kami inside.

The transportation of the mikoshi is handled by dozens or even hundreds of male individuals depending on the size of the palanquin – some can weigh up to several tonnes. The parishioners bare the structure on their shoulders by means of the poles and carry it through the streets, neighborhoods or to a sacred shrine/designated area for a period of time before returning to the primary Shinto shrine. Following the mikoshi are priests and crowds of people dressed in ancient costumes – often singing, chanting,dancing loudly or jumping up and down. During the procession it is common to see the carriers waving the mikoshi wildly back and forth or up and down – an action that is believed to be directed by the will of the kami for its own amusement.

Overall, it is interesting to note that the mikoshi is a form of miniaturization within Shinto religious tradition as well as a an element of carnival. The liminality and reversal of regulated norms that both the kami and the parishioners embody during the matsuri and mikoshi procession serves to bring the self into contact with the other and create or reestablish a relationship. In this sense, the mikoshi acts as a means for the parishioners of a local community to establish and maintain a relationship with the local kami through the processes of miniaturization and carnival in order to receive blessings of health and prosperity for the upcoming season, year or transitory phase.

Possible links for further interest in Mikoshi:

~guest blogger, Ashley Mcrae

What you want to know more about.

2009-03-12T13:44:00.001-04:00

This is a word cloud generated from the questions you turned in on Tuesday...

created at TagCrowd.com

Daruma Dolls!

2009-03-12T12:00:00.001-04:00

(This post comes from Andrea Reid--I love these dolls. Thanks Andrea!)

Need a little extra motivation to make it through these winter months? Well maybe you should go buy a daruma doll! These dolls are small and round with no arms or legs and usually for sale at Japanese Buddhist temples. The dolls have painted faces but no eyes. This is so that when you buy a daruma doll you can fill in one eye and make a wish. The other eye is filled in when the wish comes true. They are often used as a motivation device for this reason.

But where does this strange practice come from? Daruma dolls (達磨) are based on a Buddhist sage named Daruma, in Japanese, although he is also known as Bodhidharma. Daruma is usually depicted bald with a beard. He travelled through China (probably from India) and founded the Shōrinji temple where he gathered many students. He eventually decided the best way to reach enlightenment was through meditation. So he spent nine years meditating facing a wall in a cave. During this time his legs shrivelled to mere stumps (thus the round bottom of the doll). But just before he reached enlightenment he fell asleep! So, just like I am sure any of us would do in this situation, he angrily ripped off his eyelids and threw them away determined to reach his goal. It is said that a magical bush grew where his eyelids landed whose leaves can be brewed into tea that will get rid of sleepiness. Daruma noticed that his disciples were also having trouble concentrating long enough to reach enlightenment. He developed a series of exercises to help them focus that influenced the martial arts. Because of his incredible self-discipline, Daruma is considered the patron saint of determination.

As you can see, daruma dolls are a playful way of spreading Daruma’s intense determination. In addition to painting the eyes, when you push the dolls over they will not fall but just bounce back because of the round bottoms. There is also a variation of the daruma doll used for a game called daruma otoshi (達磨落とし) where you try to knock blocks out of a stack with a hammer without letting the rest fall over. This video shows one guy who is really good at it…

When both eyes have been filled in and the daruma is no longer necessary it cannot just be thrown away. Instead it must be burned so that the kami know that you have not given up on or forgotten that wish. At Dairyo-ji temple in Gifu they hold a large memorial service for daruma dolls. In January many daruma dolls are thrown into a large fire of lucky bamboo. This temple also has a five meter Daruma statue that you could go check out if you get bored during the six hours it takes to burn all the daruma. You can learn more about Dairyo-ji temple at this site.

~guest blogger, Andrea Reid

The Suwa Pillar Festival: What a Tree-t!

2009-03-12T06:00:00.002-04:00

(This post is by Kimberly--check out the video! Thank you Kimberly!)

The Suwa Pillar Festival, onbashira-matsuri, in the Nagano region of Japan, when briefly explained to those who lack any substantial knowledge of Japanese culture, sounds bizarre. “Once every six years, sixteen trees in the mountains are selected to be erected at the Suwa Shrine as pillars. After the trees are cut, they’re slid down a steep mountain, and men jump on them and get injured or even die. See, look at this video! As the trees are brought through town, the community hosts a sort of carnival, with thousands partying in the streets and cheering on the trees. Then religious officials erect them at the Suwa Shrine, selling the former pillars to construction sites, and the cycle continues.”

Strange as the concept sounds at a cursory glance, and although scholars recognize the danger inherent in some of its elements (Kitazawa 112), the festival is ripe with meaning and religious significance, and every step is carefully planned and meticulously executed. The festival dates back over 1200 years, when the kami Takeminakata is rumoured to have aided the general Sakanoue Tamuramaro in war (Gerbert 328).

The sixteen trees used as pillars to stand in the Shinto Suwa Shrine are carefully selected by experts; the festival then follows the processes roughly outlined above. These various steps of the festival, carried out according to very strict time guidelines, symbolize a transition from the eternal spirit world of the kami into the temporal world of human beings. As the onbashira-matsuri progresses, the festivities also change drastically in nature, beginning as sombre and controlled and eventually becoming wild and disorderly (Gerbert 330-334). Every item used in the festival holds some significance and demonstrates the respect the practitioners hold for the world of the kami in the mountains (for example, priests must purify all axes used). Ritual purity is a necessity: the matsuri finds its structure by differentiating between the sacred and pure realm of the kami and the impurity outside of the festival. Onbashira-matsuri also presents demonstrations of unity through difference: the two styles of rope used to pull the trees are understood to be male and female, and the fact that they work together shows the complementary nature of two ostensible opposites (Gerbert 340). Furthermore, the festival reminds participants of their connection to the earth, bringing those who would not spend much time outside deep into the mountains and into close contact with elements of nature (Gerbert 369).

The kami are the main consideration in the festival: all members of the Suwa community work together to prepare songs and dances to ensure that the kami are entertained throughout the festival (Gerbert 335-339). Furthermore, when a man is killed while riding the pillar down the mountain in the portion of the festival called shimosha ki-otoshi, the justification for the death is simply that kami took the man (Gerbert 343). Spaces usually remaining in the realm of humans, like roads, sit at the mercy of the kami during the onbashira-matsuri and lose their regular functions (Gerbert 374).

The “carnival” portion of the festival, when the trees are pulled through town towards the shrine, demonstrates an intriguing juxtaposition of orderly and chaotic. Reactions to the trees are similar to reactions to marathon runners: the audience celebrates, waves flags and takes photos of the trees (Gerbert 347). Though the festivities follow very specific guidelines, practitioners revel in the streets, closing down their businesses, abandoning their clothes or wearing ornate historical costumes, imbibing sake and eating insatiably (Gerbert 344-346). The presence of the kami in the town opens up opportunities for members of the community to act like children, forgetting the rules that otherwise provide such careful structure in their lives (Gerbert 374).

Evidently, the Suwa Pillar Festival stands as an impressive example of many key aspects of Japanese religion that we’re studying: the importance of ritual purity, the reverence held for nature and by proxy the kami, and elements of carnival existing amongst orderliness.

~guest blogger, Kimberly Beattie

Bullseye! The Art of Archery in Shinto Ceremony

2009-03-11T18:00:00.002-04:00

(This post comes from Emilie. Emilie, あざーす!)

Kyūdo (弓度, litt. ‘the way of the bow’) has been present in Japan for thousands of years, with archaeological digs revealing wooden bows and stone arrowheads dating back to 5000 B.C.E. Japanese archery has strong spiritual connotations, not only with Zen Buddhism (mainly in the latter half of the twentieth century) but also through its use in Shinto ritual. While archery is used in hundreds of ceremonies across the country, especially those involving harvest, purification or coming-of-age, only two will be touched upon here: Momote-Shiki and Yabusame.

Kyūdo is markedly different from Western archery, namely through the fact that a Japanese yumi (bow) is 2 meters long and gripped below its center. Kyū-dojo are highly ritualized spaces built in an almost mandalized fashion, following concepts of Chinese geomancy (Feng Shui); the dojo’s construction is based on the cardinal directions, with the target area in the south, the arrow-collecting path in the east, the social rooms to the north and the altar, along with the judges’ seats, in the west. This improves the flow and interaction of yin and yang energies, as well as elemental energy; if the dojo layout is changed, this is thought to affect the archers’ performance. The standard length of a kyūdo shooting range is of 28 meters, based on ancient hosha (archery on foot) principles--thirty meters was the ideal killing range. Besides hosha, the two other forms of kyūdo are mounted archery (kisha) and temple archery (dosha).

The common ‘archer priestess’ trope, in which a miko (shrine maiden) uses a bow to exorcise demons, will be familiar to those who watch Japanese animation: popular examples include Kagome and Kikyo from Inuyasha, or Sailor Mars from Sailor Moon. The connection is not entirely incongruous; Amaterasu herself uses a bow and is equipped with “a thousand-arrow quiver; on the side of her chest she attached a five-hundred arrow quiver” (Kojiki 14:5). In temples all across Japan, miko prepare the hamaya (破魔矢) or ‘demon-breaking arrows’ that are sold as lucky charms during the New Year’s festival. Hamaya are long white bamboo arrows that ward off misfortune and attract good luck. During the Edo period (1603 to 1868) they were also given as gifts to celebrate the arrival of a male baby, usually paired with decorative bows, or hamayumi (破魔弓). Hamaya and hamayumi are still used to consecrate and purify a new house, which is done by placing these symbolic weapons in the southeast and northwest corners of the home, as these directions are susceptible to evil.

Momote-shiki (百手式), the hundred-arrow ritual, is performed at Meiji shrine each January in honour of seijin-no-hi, coming of age day, as well as in November to pray for a bountiful harvest. A kaburaya (whistling arrow) is used to start off the archery ritual; the noise it makes is said to ward off malevolent kami. The ceremony gets its name from the practice of having ten archers close the ceremony by firing one hundred arrows at a central target.

Yabusame (流鏑馬) is the most well-known and formal of the kisha (mounted archery) ceremonies. Yabusame was created originally not only as a form of practice for mounted archers, but also as an offering of entertainment to the gods. It involves bolting down a 220-meter-long straight track at full gallop while attempting to hit 3 targets set up on the left-hand side. The targets are 80 meters apart, and the ite (archers), garbed in full 13th-century hunting gear, use forked arrows designed to incapacitate prey. Yabusame generally demonstrates the skills of about eight to twelve archers, each requiring at least 5 years of practice in order to participate.

In sum, Kyudo reveals itself to be not only a complex and ritualized martial art, but also an important element of many Shinto ceremonies. Often showy, these rituals are designed to capture the attention of the gods in the hopes of attaining luck and prosperity. The arrows alone are capable of warding off evil and purifying their bearer--though the New Year’s hamaya are often thrown out when their efficacy ceases!

LINKS:
A.N.K.F. website.

Kyudo vids:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OA2EnemzBpk

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eJkuSpVmLro

Momote Shiki: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nik5nrC-aXI

Some impressive Yabusame videos:
http://www.break.com/usercontent/2008/11/Yabusame-Japanese-Mounted-Archery-612078.html

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2D4t2k-Joc0&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GoClxyx8xAY&feature=related

From water to stone… The solidification of Mizuko Jizō

2009-03-11T11:46:00.005-04:00

(This post is by Christina. The photos are from her trip to Japan. Christina, ありがとう!)

Only minutes away from one of Japan's largest tourist attractions, the Tokyo Tower, lies the Zojōji Temple. One of the most striking aspects of this otherwise normal temple is the vast number of small child-like statues placed neatly in rows along the street, visible to any passers-by. These little stone people are not at all unique to this temple, but are found throughout Japan. Known as mizuko Jizō, each of these little guys represents a dead child, more often than not the product of abortion, though may also be representative of a child who has died through miscarriage, stillbirth, or who has died shortly after birth. By dressing it in a little red knitted hat and a bib, giving it a pinwheel and flowers, the mother or family is miniaturizing the child who never was. What is also important is that this child is given a name, sometimes a Buddhist name, and others a name which the purchaser of this Jizō has chosen. This being said, the more one dresses it up like one would a child, the more the statue looks like a child and less like a monk, however the statue is supposed to be both of these entities simultaneously. William Lafleur, in his text entitled “Abortion in Japan”, explains this simultaneous imagery is of utmost importance, calling the Jizō a “stand-in for both the dead infant and the savior figure who supposedly takes care of it in its otherworld journey. The double-take effect—one moment a child and the next a Buddhist saviour in monkish robes—is intentional.” (LaFleur 75)

The term mizuko, written with the characters for ‘water’, ‘水’, and ‘child’, ‘子’, literally means ‘water child’, and there are a couple of speculations as to why this is so. In the womb the fetus is not yet solidified and is thus somewhat watery. This being said, by it being aborted it does not have to travel too far to return to the land of the dead as it has yet to become a concrete human being, because at this point in time it is more liquid than solid. Another interpretation is that the term is directly related to water into which the leech-child that Izanami and Izanagi conceived is sent, once they decide that they no longer want it. (LaFleur 78-79)

The reason for buying one of these dolls is not entirely unlike the bear sending back ceremony or the exorcism of a goryo spirit. The mizuko kuyō, which is the ceremony in which the mizuko Jizō is involved, is done in order to both thank the child for going back as well as wish that this child will return once the couple is ready to have the child. (Harrison 251) When such a ceremony is not performed the spirit may become vengeful and cause problems for the mother or her family. Likewise, by doing it the child may become a protective kami or mamorigami (守り神). (Harrison 264)

Another reason for the creation of the mizuko Jizō, which is a relatively new concept, emerging after World War II, is to enable the woman to acknowledge the child she never had, as well as the fact that she was, at one point or another, a mother, even if only for a brief moment. (Harrison 261) By having given the child a name, this is further acknowledging its presence in the universe, and thus the need for it to be remembered as though it were any other member of the family who had perished. (Harrison 110-111)

Some fun links: Anything and everything you want to know about Jizō. Directions to the Zojōji Temple, home of the Mizuko Jizō photographed here.

~guest blogger, Christina Bucci

2009-03-05T17:56:00.003-05:00

I have a bunch of really cool blog assignments to post over the next couple of days, but I'm putting this up for today. In one of the discussion sections I was at, we closed up by talking about what a carnivalesque classroom would look like. Click on the play button for a lecture by Benjamin Zander on how he brings the carnival to the music classroom.

Kanpai! (Cheers!)

2009-03-04T21:49:00.006-05:00

(This post is from Karen, and well-timed for our consideration of carnival. Thank you Karen!)

Like many things we’ve come across in our studies of Japanese religions, legend has it that sake (酒) originated in China. Sake production and consumption dates back to 2200 B.C.E. and according to the tale, sake was presented to King Wu of Zhou who enjoyed the drink so immensely that he went on to pass a law banning its consumption for fear of, “Sake [being] so good that people will surely be unable to limit their drinking and will ruin themselves and the country” (Naotaka). The ban was said to have been short lived and sake eventually made its way across the sea to Japan in the sixth century.

In Japan two forms of sake were produced and these were originally made by masticating rice. Depending on who was doing the chewing, you would either end up with the sake for religious rituals or the sake for social imbibition. Young virgins were the only ones who could produce the former (Naotaka). Yum!

As a derivative of rice – the paramount crop of Japan – sake has become key in many Shinto rituals and has taken on a purifying aspect. Sake production for Shinto use ultimately made its way to the sakadono or shrine’s wine hall where two types of ritual sake (also known as miki) were made: shiroki (light sake) and kuroki (dark sake) (Schumacher). These were produced for the numerous Shinto rituals where sake is the central element, such as naorai where a ritualized collective consumption of sake takes place. The sanku is another example of a ritual practice involving sake and is traditionally done at celebrations that honor a local or household kami. The ceremonial procedure involves sake, rice, cloth, or money being sprinkled about the four corners and the center of a ritual site, as an offering to the kami. A further instance of a sake ceremony traditionally performed at a Shinto shrine is the San-san-kudo (three-three-nine times). This ritual takes place during the Shinto marriage service, and involves the bride and the groom taking three sips of sake each from three nuptial cups as part of the ceremony’s matrimonial binding (Gauntner). (Check out a modern day san-san-kudo at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eAXSyw5EKWU)

Nature produces rice from which we get sake, therefore sake is considered to be, “a blessing from the gods” (Yasutaka). As a lot of sake is consumed because of its purifying nature (and because lets face it, its just that good), rituals must be performed in which sake is the key offering for the kami. This is because, as we have learned, to be virtuous and to show respect and thanks to the kami, their gifts to us must be returned to them. Also, sake is unique because of the light intoxication felt after its consumption. This inebriated feeling is likened to the feeling of being carried off into another world (Yasutaka), perhaps clarifying for us why sake is given such a special status in Shinto rituals.

Before I wrap up, here are a few interesting sake-related things:

The ten virtues of sake from “Mochi-Sake” (Cake and Sake), a kyōgen play:

Provides a friend when alone
Produces harmony for all people
Allows ordinary people to greet nobles with ease
Justifies meeting with friends
Provides companionship while traveling
Promotes long life
Is the king of 100 medicines
Helps sorrow to disappear
Aids recovery from fatigue
Warms the body in the cold

(borrowed from Naotaka Shinfuku’s “Japanese Culture and Drinking”)

Become a sake expert:

- http://www.esake.com/Workshop/workshopM.html

Learn how to pair sake with food:

- http://www.sake-world.com/html/sake-food.html

A guide to sake ceramics:

- http://www.e-yakimono.net/html/sake-shapes-guide.html

~guest blogger, Karen Simon

Shimenawa: A Spelling Dilemma

2009-03-04T12:56:00.005-05:00

(This post came in from Bobby, just one day after Natasha submitted hers, and before Natasha's went up, so this seems like a good opportunity for comparing the different perspectives people bring to the material. Thanks very much Bobby!)

Entering a shrine, visiting a sacred site, even by simply entering a village you will undoubtedly come across a shimenawa. In their most basic function, shimenawa are a collection of straws twisted into a rope that marks a sacred space. Often shimenawa will be decorated with white pieces of zigzag shaped paper called shide (sometimes gohei) (Egenter 202). The actual Japanese orthography of the word itself, shimenawa, is both interesting and confusing. Shimenawa is often written as 注連縄, 標縄, or 締縄. Alternatively, numerical characters can be used as a reference to the number of straw threads in the rope braid (Motosawa 2005). However, for the purpose of this entry, we will just look at the three given examples and how they each give insight into the functions of the shimenawa.

In 注連縄, as in the other cases, the 縄 (nawa) means “rope”. Therefore our concern deals with the characters: 注 and 連. 注 has both the meaning of “pouring” or “flow” and “to note”; 連 means “to lead” or “to connect”. Together they imply a meaning of marking of the connections between two things. There are many cases in which shimenawa are used to connect two things. The most famous being the Meoto Iwa (or the Husband and Wife/Wedded Rocks) found off the coast of Futami, Mie. The two rocks, which are said to be representative of Izanagi (the large one) and Izanami (the small one), are connected by a gigantic shimenawa, representing their marriage or union (Japan Travel Guide).

The meaning of 標縄 alludes to the marking function of the shimenawa, something which most of us are more familiar with. This is most commonly expressed in the shimenawa being located within several areas within a shrine complex, not to mention home shrines, to mark sacred space. Moreover, as Yagi has noted, shimenawa have been used throughout Japanese history to mark the traditional boundaries of a village. Most often the shimenawa was located near the entrance or road leading to the village (Yagi 138). They served the purpose of either preventing a calamity from entering the village or to drive away one that already occurred. Yagi points out two ceremonies associated with this: the michi-kiri-nawa and the kanjou-kake. While both ceremonies differ, they share both a similar function; a shimenawa is hung across the road to the village in order to protect the village. Even though many shimenawa have been relocated to the area of the ujigami shrines (tutelary deities), the ones that remain have gone unmoved despite the building of houses outside the traditional boundaries (Yagi 139). At once it marks not only the traditional boundaries of the village but also the sacred space within the village.

The final orthography of shimenawa, 締縄, indicates a nature of binding or tying around. There are several examples of this occurring within the Shinto traditions, whether it be the artificial tree-forms discussed by Egenter, actual trees, scared stones or even barrels of sake (Egenter 202; Todd 13). By being tied around the sacred object or by having several shimenawa set around the perimeter of the object, the object can be marked as a temporary residence of a kami (Egenter 202). The shimenawa not only marks the area as sacred but also surrounds the area; creating a boundary that seemingly binds the sacred within. That is not to say the kami are bound but the point of contact between the human and kami is controlled or negotiated.

Shimenawa can take upon various meanings as well as usages. Though I have only shown examples that highlight the various meanings that are derived from its various orthographies, it should be noted that in a singular situation we can understand the function of the shimenawa on various levels: as simultaneously connecting, marking and binding.

~guest blogger, Robert Noble

2009-03-03T08:37:00.008-05:00

(This seasonal post is from Kidist. Thank you Kidi!)

In Japan, the end of winter (by the lunar calendar) is celebrated every year in a special manner. Setsubun (February 3^rd) is the last day of winter and what comes with it is an interesting ritual: throwing beans.

Aside from the fun that it allegedly provides, the reasoning behind celebration of Setsubun is to ward off evil. There are three vital practices that ought to be performed such that one can be certain that evil has left.

First and foremost is the ritual of mame maki (throwing beans). Mishima asserts that the beans need to be roasted before they are thrown. This is logical since the thrown beans are to be picked up by the lucky ones attending the ritual and be eaten. The beans are called fuku mame, which translates to beans of luck. However, the most fortunate people are those that gather beans equal to the number of their age.

In this ceremony, it is customary to invite Japanese celebrities such as sumo wrestlers or people whose zodiac sign match the year to do the honor of scattering the beans, which usually takes place in temples and shrines (Sosnoski, 9 and Chavez).

It is also customary to do this ritual at home, where the members of the house throw the beans at the father—who masquerades as the devil (Chavez).

This relates to my second point; the other method to protect against evil is by having some of the celebrators wear masks to pretend to be the devil. The origin of this might be the Chinese celebration tsuina, wherein the Chinese wear masks to look like demons since the 8^th Century to mark the end of winter and to symbolize that the new year will be protected from evil (Sosnoski, 9). From this explanation, it is easy to see that both the Japanese and the Chinese visualize the demon to make the celebrations more real and because visualization makes it easier for one to believe that he/she is protected against the evil and it has indeed warded off.

The third way to drive evil away is by shouting: ‘oni wa soto’ (demons, get out) and ‘fuku wa uchi’ (happiness, come in). Sosnoski draws attention to this shouting stating it is somewhat a prayer (9). Thus, the Japanese are looking for some control over the devils and the shouting serves this purpose. Moreover, it is believed that the polite devils are supposed to stay away for a year once this ceremony has been observed (Chavez).

In general, looking at the three different methods the Japanese use to keep evil away has reminded me of an important concept that we have been discussing in class. That is, the bean thrower throws the fortune beans to expel the evil. However, it is the same beans that are to be eaten by the people looking for good luck. Thus, the beans signify bringing in purity (fortune) on the one hand, whereas they signify fending off pollution (evil) on the other hand.

For additional sources about related material, you might find these links interesting.

http://www.planettokyo.com/news/index.cfm/fuseaction/story/ID/80/

http://gojapan.about.com/cs/japanesefestivals/a/setsubun.htm

http://books.google.ca/books?id=sKw8OdVJgwgC&dq=daniel+sosnoski&printsec=frontcover&source=bl&ots=Gp0dXumtp4&sig=kwD2PyJiRyZ9SsCNyEAoq4u9OfI&hl=en&ei=NdSkSaroMZ3etgeP_6TWBA&sa=X&oi=book_result&resnum=7&ct=result#PPA9,M1

http://www2.gol.com/users/stever/setsubun.htm

~guest blogger, Kidist Assefa

Shimenawa

2009-03-01T12:00:00.001-05:00

(This post is by Natasha. You should definitely read this one before you write your final paper. Thanks Natasha!)

Seen in these photographs are Shinto border ropes, shimenawa, which mark “the boundaries of an area that has been sanctified or purified, or an area to which the Kami might descend” (Nelson, 264). Shimenawa are frequently found either suspended horizontally from the torii to a shrine or ritual location, or wrapped around the base of a tree or stone. It is a symbol that has existed within the Japanese religious imagination since, as some interpreters suggest, the time of the Kojiki. The shimenawa’s presence in the Kojiki is believed to be represented as the rope which prevented Ama-terasu-opo-mi-kami from returning to the cave she hid herself inside of in chapter seventeen.

Traditionally, shimenawa were made in the home by farmers who used excess straw from rice harvest to produce the rope. Twisting rice straw, braiding it together and then securing it with string creates the body of the shimenawa. Afterwards, a wood or wire insert can be applied to ensure the shimenawa maintains its shape. Shimenawa are typically adorned with zig-zag shaped paper streamers called “shide,” which emphasize the demarcation of a boundary and create a rustling sound in movement, believed to awaken the kami.

The term shimenawa is based on the commonly held conception of rope (nawa) as an instrument of marking. “In ancient times shimenawa were used as signs of ownership or exclusive possession, and frequently written with the character 標 indicating a ‘marker’” (Encyclopedia of Shinto). In addition, shimenawa often mark a champion sumō wrestler, who may be seen wearing a decorative shimenawa draped with shide during the entrance ceremony of a sumō event. Primarily, however, shimenawa designate and demarcate spaces or objects that “somehow manifest the presence of kami more explicitly than do other sites [and thus contain] the concentrated power connecting people with the kami…” (Kasulis, 23). For example, trees are often marked by shimenawa as kami, sacred either by virtue of age, shape, or plantation by an emperor or empress (Kasulis, 20). Shimenawa may also be stretched across the road at the entrance of a village, symbolizing a border crossing and deity protection from disaster (Yasuyuki Yagi, 139). The same logic sometimes places shimenawa above household doorways. Shimenawa thus serve to bridge connection between humans and kami, fostering a tangible intimacy between worlds. By singling out objects and marking borders, shimenawa pull the religious imagination back toward the path of Shinto.

Shimenawa are not meant to dichotomize, say, powerful trees and powerless trees but are meant to rather remind one that “because of the omnipresence of kami, the tree was always spiritualized” (Kasulis, 18). Shimenawa are meant to strengthen and enforce the notion of interconnectivity, while at once embodying interconnectivity in and of themselves. Made from hundreds of small strands of straw twisted and woven together as one, a shimenawa rope simultaneously expresses borders and oneness, divide and interconnectivity.

~guest blogger, Natasha Chettiar

Fun with Fundoshi

2009-03-01T06:00:00.001-05:00

(This post is courtesy of Mike. He found a lot of pretty amazing images--I'm only putting up three, including the one I found most hilarious. Thank you Mike!)

As we have seen in class, ritual and tradition are both integral to the everyday functioning of Shinto. Not only does Shinto prescribe cleansing rituals and walks beneath torii but custom carries all the way down quite literally to underpants. Fundoshi is the traditional Japanese version of a loincloth, first mentioned in the Nihongi as early as the eighth century and typically made from a lightweight cloth like cotton, gauze, or silk. Originally fundoshi was simply the ordinary form of underwear in Japan, formed from a single piece of cloth that is twisted and wrapped to form a sort of male thong (though fundoshi may be worn by women as well). While in the past fundoshi have been worn for the purposes of swimming, their use in the present day has been mostly restricted to ritual application during the many matsuri throughout the year. Most commonly, during matsuri men who carry the mikoshi (a miniature mock-up of a Shinto shrine) around to the people who worship at a particular shrine are required to adorn fundoshi in combination with happi, a traditional coat.

Fundoshi can appear in multiple forms, usually designed for different tasks or contexts. For instance, rokushaku fundoshi are one ‘shaku’ (Japanese version of a foot) wide and six ‘shaku’ (about six feet) long. Another variant is the ettchu fundoshi (literally ‘which exceeds half’), a shorter piece of fabric with a string sewn on one end that is tied around the waist such that a rectangular piece of cloth hangs in front of the groin like an apron. Ettchu fundoshi are said to have roots in China, supposedly appropriated from an earlier Chinese loincloth. In addition there is the mokko fundoshi, a hybrid of the rokushaku and ettchu that lacks the front apron of the ettchu and adds a larger piece of cloth to cover the buttocks than the rokushaku. Fundoshi have also appeared on haniwa, the terracotta figures used in ritual and burial during the Kofun period. Perhaps made most famous by the samurai who wore fundoshi under their armor, today fundoshi function both as the Japanese version of a jock strap and as the sole piece of clothing worn by the world renowned Kodo group of traditional taiko drummers. Fundoshi were also issued to Allied prisoners of war by the Japanese during World War II, however when the war ended Western-style underwear was introduced to the country and fundoshi were phased out even among the local population. Unconventional appearances of fundoshi include the Kanamara Matsuri (Festival of the Steel Phallus) in which a group of women adorned in nothing but fundoshi carry a giant model penis to celebrate fertility culminating in the ‘erection’ of the penis to a vertical position.

Fundoshi have appeared in the popular culture of the West as well, prominently displayed in such films as The Blue Lagoon and Zardoz (Sean Connery fundoshi!) along with the cartoon series Samurai Jack. Interestingly fundoshi appear in all colors and patterns except for black, which is considered to be a sign of the Yakuza, a Japanese organized crime gang, such that men who appear at matsuri with black fundoshi are considered to be dangerous. As for fundoshi’s ritual purity, a Japanese parable tells the story of a family whose bucket fell into a well. A young man who happened to be walking by disrobed down to his underwear (which must not have been fundoshi) to climb into the well and retrieve the bucket. When he returned the bucket to the family they would not drink from the well for days, complaining that the well would have been pure if he had only worn his fundoshi.

Be sure to check out the image that explains how fundoshi are tied so that next time you’ve got to jump down someone’s well and grab a bucket at least they won’t be mad afterward.

~guest poster, Michael Tauscher

“Death of Buddha:” The Oldest Representation of Death in Japanese Buddhist Art

2009-02-28T17:00:00.002-05:00

(This post comes to us from Zach. It's interesting to compare this image to the image Jane talked about below. Thank you Zach!)

When considering the events comprising the life of the Buddha, the scene of his death has continuously captured the Buddhist religious imagination, leading to various representations of it in art. It is on Koyasan (Mt. Koya) in the Wakayama prefecture south of Osaka that “the greatest and oldest of these representations in painting in Japan is preserved” (Moran 97). The “Death of Buddha” painting is owned by the Kongobuji temple but is kept permanently at the Reihokan museum, which acts as a storehouse for artifacts from many surrounding temples (Moran 97). While the date of the painting (1086 CE) is clearly indicated, the work cannot be attributed to a specific artist, which interestingly raises questions regarding artistic intention when examining how this representation of the Buddha’s death differs from its counterparts in certain respects.

It is often suggested that certain essential elements, such as the Tree of Knowledge rearing itself behind the Buddha of the Sambodhi, continuously reappear throughout the history of Buddhist art (Foucher 26). “The Death of Buddha” painting, however, alters conventional artistic aspects in unexpected ways, providing a unique perspective on the moment of death. Descriptions of the painting note the overarching sense of peace and serenity in the figure of the Buddha, whose closed eyes suggest that he has either already expired or is in a state of profound meditation. Furthermore, he is positioned almost directly on his back, bent slightly to the right, which can be contrasted to other representations where he is positioned as leaning completely on his side (Moran 113). A casual glance at the painting reveals the Buddha to be much larger than any other figure in the work as he occupies a central placement, dominating the perspective.

With regards to formal features, the fact that the Buddha’s feet are visible is significant given the red lotus pattern on his left foot, which is by no means a common artistic feature (Moran 115). The symbol of the lotus is one of the most important in Buddhism as it represents the “purity of the Buddha’s truth rising above the ignorance of the world” (Fischer 5). This can be seen as relating to the wisdom imparted by the Buddha at the moment of his death. Another interesting formal feature relating to the representation of the Buddha is the absence of a halo when other figures in the painting have one (Moran 118). One could argue, however, that this relates to the eyes of the Buddha being closed as it serves to demarcate him as having expired.

Also noteworthy are the thirty-eight other figures that surround the Buddha, especially the group of bodhisattvas in the top left hand corner. None of these figures are presented as standing and a clear demarcation between those who are grieving and those who remain calm and composed is evident (Moran 122). The bodhisattvas are presented as contemplative, referring to their enlightened nature and understanding of death (Fischer 7). This can be contrasted with the varying degrees of grief visible in the fifteen bhikku monks and fifteen miscellaneous figures. Despite each figure belonging to a specific social or religious category (i.e. bodhisattva and bhikku), each one is aesthetically unique. One must also consider the appearance of the kara-shishi (Chinese Lion) who is overcome with grief, representing a broader interest in Mahayana Buddhism with the inclusion of such an animal. The inclusion of the lion reflects the freedom in Japanese artistic representation, as well as themes of authority and the motif of a “guardian figure” (Fischer 15). Thus, the painting combines both earthly and cosmic dimensions.

The “Death of Buddha” painting at Koyasan, through the depiction of the Buddha and those surrounding him, explores the problem of death as suffering, as well as the Buddha’s attaining of a “deathless” state with his conquest of suffering and death (Cuevas and Stone 1). This is seen through the varying reactions of sorrow and contemplation in the supporting figures. Interestingly, the work is held in such high esteem that it is only displayed for approximately one week per year (Moran 98). While the inability to attribute the painting to a specific artist renders certain formal features perplexing, the aesthetic quality of the work speaks for itself.

Detailed images of the painting are available through JSTOR, here.

~guest blogger, Zachary Alapi

Mario's Tanuki Suit

2009-02-28T12:27:00.003-05:00

(This post is by Philip, who knows all about online game emulators. Thanks Philip!)

As a child, my parents always told me, “Mario eats his mushrooms and look how big he grows! Philip eat your mushrooms if you want to grow up into a big strong boy.” In Super Mario Bros. 3, if Mario ate leaves, he became a flying “racoon”. I figured that if mushrooms will make me big, then leaves could make me fly. I ate leaves and was not able to fly. Therefore, I decided that I would no longer eat mushrooms. Now that I have a bit more knowledge, I can better understand why Mario is so powerful and why his “racoon” suit made him even stronger.

Since my grandma used to say “Mama Mia,” and my Judo teacher had a big moustache, I always assumed that one day I could become a super-hero just like Mario. Mario was just like me except stronger and more Italian. Nevertheless, Mario would clearly be a manifestation of the other for his Japanese creators. The idea that power is to be found in the others is also confirmed by the Ebisu cults. The Japanese word ebisu means stranger or foreigner (Yoshida, 91). Ebisu is basically a foreign god who brings good luck and can be manifested as strangers who are also the source of good luck (Yoshida, 91). Thus, part of Mario's power comes purely because he is Italian and not Japanese. In addition, a similarity can be seen between Mario and the heroes of traditional and popular stories involving master-less samurai (rōnin-mono), or migratory strangers (watari-mono) (Yoshida, 91). The samurai and strangers are Japanese strangers who wander from town to town doing good deeds such as eliminating oppressors. Mario wanders around jumping on Koopa's to save the kingdom's princess. This basically amounts to the same thing, a unknown hero comes to save people from their tormentors. Yet, this does not explain why a leaf permits Mario to become a flying racoon-looking killing machine.

What I used to believe was a racoon-suit is actually a tanuki suit. A tanuki is usually considered to be either a badger or a racoon-dog in English (Casal, 49). In Japanese folklore tales, the tanuki can often fly, transform into different shapes, and a diverse range of other powers (Harada, 2). This would explain why Mario is able to fly, but it doesn't really tell us if why the leaf is the catalyst to this whole metamorphosis. In folk tales about tanuki, the animal's tricks usually revolve around leaves. A tanuki might appear as a human and buy goods with money which suddenly transforms into leaves (Casal, 52). Yet, tanuki are also known to wear lotus-leaves as hats (Casal, 54). Therefore, the leaf is an appropriate symbol for Mario's tanuki transformation.

Briefly, Mario derives power from his outsider status. The tanuki suit is inspired by actual tanuki folklore not just because the animal is cool. The leaf and the transformation it causes reflects these tales as well.

~guest blogger, Philip Tomlinson

Chabana: Flower Arrangements for the Tea Ceremony

2009-02-25T08:00:00.000-05:00

(This post comes to us from Sylvia. It complements Adam's, right below, don't you think? Thanks Sylvia!)

This image shows a space for a Japanese Zen tea ceremony. In this post I will be looking specifically at the flower arrangement depicted. It is an important part of the ritual and represents an interesting historical development which involved both imported and indigenous beliefs.

The word Chabana refers to flower arrangements for the Zen tea ceremony and can be translated literally as tea (cha) flower (bana from hana) (Kondo). This method comes out of a more overarching tradition of flower arrangement called Ikebana. Ikebana is believed to have first begun its evolution into its present form when Buddhism was introduced to Japan in the 6^th century. From this point onwards, there was an intermingling of values and beliefs from both Buddhism and indigenous Japanese religions (Masanobo 6). Most explanations of the origins of Ikebana suggest that the practice drew on philosophical and practical concepts from both indigenous Japanese religions as well as Buddhism (Moriyama 355, Mittwer 22-24). For example, the indigenous religion of Japan (what we today call Shinto) places a strong emphasis on the natural world as sacred. As we have seen in class, all of the natural world as well as objects created by man were seen as possessing the spirit of a kami. This high regard for all locations and objects containing the kami including flowers and other plants was incorporated into the already existing Buddhist practice of flower offering and by the 16^th century had became systematized into the stylized form of flower arrangement known as Ikebana.

Around this time an offshoot of the systematized and rigid Ikebana practice emerged; nagiere (lit. ‘thrown in’) was much less controlled and allowed the flowers and branches to fall naturally instead of being held up artificially as they had been in previous methods (Kouke). Chabana is included in the nagiere school of flower arrangement. The ideal in Chabana flower arrangement is to arrange the flowers from a position of ego-less non-attachment. If the arranger is successful she will not have brought any of her own presumptions about what is or is not beautiful. Instead she will have allowed the flowers to naturally fall into their own place (Mittwer, 40). Because Chabana is created specifically for a Zen tea ceremony, the purpose of a Chabana arrangement (both the method and observation of the outcome) is similar to other Zen practices. Feelings of emptiness, quietude and solitude are sought (Mittwer 35). One of the principles of Chabana is to keep arrangements in synch with the seasons using what plants and flowers are available in the region.

The example which I have chosen of a November Chabana arrangement falls under these guidelines since it is has less extravagant flowers and the primary focus of the arrangement is on a branch with coloured leaves.

~guest blogger, Sylvia Chomko

柄杓 (ひしゃく) ~ Hishaku (Ladle)

2009-02-24T17:20:00.007-05:00

(This blog post is by Adam, featuring his own photos from Japan. Adam, ありがとう!)

You think you have it down as you pass beneath the torii at the end of the small alleyway. Left hand first, then the right, then scoop some into your cupped, now-pristine sinistral hand and rinse out your mouth. But wait, is this a full rinsing, or like a one-swirl, merely symbolic kind of swish? And where do I spit this out once I’m clean?? I’m just gonna have to wing it and hope for the best...

Conveniently, my first shrine was equipped with a foreigner-friendly pictorial guide to the “proper” Shinto purification procedure. Thus it came to pass that I held and used my first hishaku.
Ubiquitous in the sacred spaces across Japan are hishaku - dippers, or ladles, with long handles, sitting near sources of flowing water, waiting to purify faithful temple and shrine-goers. Depending on the size and popularity of the shrine, one can expect to find a solitary traditional bamboo ladle idling on a small basin of overflowing water or dozens of metallic hishaku stirring about, trying to access the freshest water coming out of a fountain spout. The enormous sink into which the water flows, called the temizuya, can always be located at the entrance of a shrine or temple to allow for purification prior to accessing the most sacred structures or spaces on the grounds. Older shrines tend to be located next to streams or other bodies of water so that visitors can cleanse their whole bodies of impurities by bathing in its pure waters (A Shrine Visit). Since ladles carry the water used in this ritual act of cleansing, it is easy to see how the hishaku can be tied in to the Japanese religious experience.

“It was traditionally thought that divine spirits dwell in places that are dented, or caved in, thus the hishaku was treated as a holy container.” -Nippon-Kichi

A common element in a traditional Japanese tea garden is the hishaku. Accompanying the ladle is, of course, the tsukubai, the small water basin from which one would wash their hands before commencing the tea ceremony, which isn’t exactly like visiting a sacred place, but isn’t that far removed either. In both cases, the hishaku is employed in the process of purifying the user.

Due to this association with purification, hishaku are found in several situations and celebrations. Those people partaking in nukemairi can be seen carrying with them a hishaku, being both a symbol of their pilgrimage and as a way of receiving alms. A hishaku without a bottom is used as hōnō, an object dedicated to the worship of the gods when beseeching deities for easy childbirth as well as in the celebration of Ohitsuosame shinji, a ritual that takes place on the Autumn equinox in Shizuoka Prefecture, where people ‘scoop’ water as an offering to the dragon kami residing in the pond at Ikemiya-jinja. Hishaku are also employed as torimono, a prop held during the performance of kagura, a ritual dance used to call down the power of the kami.

For New Year’s celebrations, new ladles are fashioned for the collection of water from a well or spring which can be spilt as an offering, used for cleansing of the mouth, and for making ozoni, a kind of vegetable and rice cake soup.

So it looks like hishaku, with their affiliation with water-based purification, are brought into various traditions and observances in Japanese religious life. I’ll ponder upon what sort of implications this might have for everyday Japanese life the next time I am handed a bowl of steaming hot ramen.

~ guest blogger, Adam Cappuccino

Rotting Corpses in Japanese Buddhist Artwork.

2009-02-21T15:00:00.004-05:00

(This post is by Jane. Thanks Jane!)

The Kusōshi emaki is a hand scroll from early fourteenth century Japan which graphically depicts the nine stages of decay of a female corpse. This theme, called kusōzu, appears frequently in Japanese Buddhist artwork. The scroll is composed of ten narrative illustrations. The first is a pre-death portrait of the subject. She is depicted in aristocratic attire, with long black hair, a voluptuous figure, and red lips. The portrait suggests that this woman relished her beauty and wealth (Kanda, 25). In the second illustration the woman is newly deceased, lying on a raised mat and adorned with ornamental trimmings. Her undergarments are brushed aside and her right breast is exposed (Chin, 381).

The following eight illustrations show a shockingly frank and gruesome depiction of the corpse's decomposition. The lack of a background makes the rotting body appear all the more stark and isolated. The artist did not hold back at all; he confronts the viewer almost aggressively with the image of bodily decay. In fact, the precision of the anatomical depictions, which show the precise sinews of the muscles and the complete skeletal structure, suggests that the artist was painting an actual observed corpse (Kanda, 26).

The stages of decay proceed as follows: (0) pre-death portrait; (1) newly deceased corpse; (2) swelling; (3) rupture of the skin; (4) oozing of blood; (5) putrefaction; (6) discoloration and desiccation; (7) consumption by birds and animals; (8) skeleton; and (9) disjointing (Kanda, 26). The contrast between the first two illustrations and those that follow is significant. It seems as if the first two, which accentuate the sensual and feminine attractiveness of the subject, are meant to arouse desire in the viewer, making the lesson delivered by the following eight illustrations all the more poignant (Kanda 26).

To add insult to injury, the subject in the painting is not an anonymous woman. She is the ninth-century poet Ono no Komachi, known as one of the “six poetic geniuses” of Japan (Chin, 296). Perhaps not so coincidentally, Komachi's poetry is generally very physical in nature. She often refers to her physical body and uses some sexually suggestive imagery. Furthermore, her poetry frequently returns to the theme of fading female beauty (Chin, 300). The misogyny apparent in the use of this historical figure seems fairly obvious.

As Gail Chin points out, the symbol of the cadaver is significant to Buddhist thought because the corpse was one of three sights that prompted Siddhartha to seek the path of enlightenment. Paintings such as this one are meant to remind viewers of the impermanence of human existence and the repulsiveness the human body, especially the female one. They are meant to encourage renunciation of the body and to discourage sexual temptation and desires, specifically for Buddhist monks (Chin, 278). A similar use of the female cadaver as a symbol is seen in the literature of some early Indian Buddhists, who considered sexual desire identical to necrophilia since the female body secretes fluids comparable to the putrefaction of a corpse (Wilson, 60). However, the visual depiction of this theme is a specifically Japanese adaptation.

Modern scholars have generally interpreted the exclusive use of female corpses in the kusōzu genre as a testament to the prevalence of misogyny in Japanese Buddhist thought. Gail Chin denies this claim by arguing that because the female body is used to teach one of the most important Buddhist lessons, it must be inherently valued as representing Buddhist truth (Chin, 311). I however tend to agree with Bernard Faure, who criticizes Chin’s interpretation as being “overly charitable” and points out that the type of contemplation encouraged by this scroll, the “contemplation of the impure,” was intended exclusively for men (Faure, 276).

~ guest blogger, Jane Schroeder

Nyoirin Kannon

2009-02-20T15:45:00.009-05:00

(This post on the statue of the Nyoirin Kannon is from Alexandra. Thank you Alexandra!)

This statue of the bodhisattva Nyoirin Kannon (Sanskrit: Cintamanicakra Avalokitesvara) dates back to ninth-century Japan and holds widespread esteem among devotees and scholars alike as a preeminent representative of Japanese Esoteric Buddhist art. It is housed in the Japanese Buddhist temple Kanshinji. In keeping with the tradition of secrecy and revelation of Esoteric Buddhism, the statue is kept hidden for the majority of the year, only being revealed to the public on two days. These special revelatory days, April 17 and 18, are thus times of widespread pilgrimage to the Kanshinji Temple when devotees trek through the mountains south of Osaka to beseech the wish-fulfilling powers of Nyoirin Kannon (Bogel 30).

The locus of Nyoirin Kannon’s power is considered to be contained within a jewel. This is the eponymous power to grant all wishes of devotees. Certainly the most bizarre incident involving this power of Nyoirin Kannon occurred in 1955 when a fanatic devotee of the bodhisattva became convinced the statue had somehow lost this jewel. Thus convinced the statue was void of power, the man hid himself in the main hall until nighttime when no-one was around determined to destroy the statue. Finding it too heavy to lift, the devotee crushed the statue’s two hands in his frustration and later ceremoniously burned them in a nearby rice field. Later the man turned himself into the authorities for his crime (Bogel 30). It would seem this is not only an example of aberrant religious behavior, but an indicator of the affective power this statue has maintained since its creation.

Within esoteric teaching there is the notion that religious implements, such as texts, relics and statues like the one in question, are not didactic aids which cannot fully convey the truth of the Buddha’s teachings, but are teachings themselves. All sights and sounds are thus the body of the Dharmakaya Buddha. Other traditions which reject this notion are referred to as “exoteric.” Kukai, the founder of the Shingon school of esoteric Buddhism, was explicit about this divide between exoteric and esoteric Buddhism, and the superiority of the esoteric path (Block and Starling 8). Many scholars consider this statue to have occupied the central position of worship (honzon) in the temple since its creation. If this is true then, the statue has been utilized by Esoteric Buddhist practitioners for more than one-thousand years in hopes of achieving the purported claim of esotericism—that the practitioner is capable of achieving full enlightenment within this present body. In fact, the jewel previously mentioned is also understood to represent this aspiration for enlightenment as well the wisdom which gives rise to its fulfillment (Jaanus).

In light of all this, one can potentially empathize with our quirky criminal devotee from before. If the Nyoirin Kannon statue had truly been considered to have lost its locus of power, then the devotee would have been left both without the path (since the statue itself is the teaching) as well as the fulfillment of the path. While the statue was repaired after its attack, one wonders how the devotee made amends with Nyoirin Kannon. Perhaps it was comforting that he could only see her twice a year.

~ guest blogger, Alexandra Prince

Mothra: Kaiju Protector Deity

2009-02-18T16:56:00.003-05:00

(Today's blog post is courtesy of Kim. Thanks Kim!)

Mothra, a popular adversary of Godzilla, is a kaiju, or popular Japanese monster. In the 1961 film Mothra she proves herself as a protector deity for the people of her land. The interplay between Mothra and humans is not unlike the relationship of kami and humans. Mothra is awakened when her spirit twins are stolen from her, at which point she leaves in pursuit after them. In this scene we see the humans crossing into the kami realm and taking what is not theirs. This disruption disturbs the balance between humans and kami and thus Mothra retaliates.

We see a similar situation with the ancient Ainu people and their kamui deities. The Ainu people displayed a reciprocal relationship between themselves and the kamui. They held the bear cub sacrifice in honour of their deities and to keep the channel of communication open between the deities and the humans. When the kamui are disturbed, their area is polluted, or their amoral personalities decide to act out there is a negative result for the Ainu people. This could appear in the form of a man dying in hunt or a poor catch of fish. Either way, however, whenever the boundary between the kamui realm and the Ainu realm is broken, the affect is felt on either sides of the divide.

Mothra arguably plays the same role throughout the film. She is a monster deity, a kaiju, who evolved from ancient Japanese fables. She demonstrates a reciprocal relationship between herself and the people of Infant Island. The twin sister spirits sing in prayer of Mothra, and because of this positive communication between the three, the sisters are able to summon Mothra to their rescue. In later depictions of Mothra she is not only the guardian deity for Infant Island, but she represents the environmental saviour of the earth.

In the film Godzilla vs. Mothra: the Battle for Earth, Mothra represents the saviour deity for all humanity. This film version depicts the twin sister spirits recounting the story of creation when a perfect society flourished under the guidance of Mothra’s other form, Battra. Through new technology the people of this time built a weather machine with which to control the skies. The creator deity Battra destroyed the machine and created chaos as a result of the people trying to control what is not theirs. Mothra appears to restore power and defeat Battra, unfortunately the people of in the village did not survive, and from this Mothra recreated earth.

Both these accounts of Mothra portray her as being ambivalent to society. I think this is a true feature of most kami. The kami of the Kojiki appear to work within the world with no particular concern for humanity. Humanity relies upon them, but they do not rely upon humanity. This is true of kami such as Amaterasu and Susa-no-wo, or Izanami and Izanagi. In both these narratives chaos circulates throughout the human and kami realm. The kami remedy these situations by creating a balance between the two borders. This is true too of Mothra. She only attacks when her realm is disturbed, when something is taken from her. Like other kami, Mothra is ambivalent with respect to humanity. Human beings may benefit or suffer from her actions--it all depends upon how they approach her.

Mothra is commonly known as a kaiju, or monster deity. I would argue however, that she is a powerful kami creator deity. Representations of Mothra in popular culture align with Japanese religious kami traditions. As I have discussed, based on the film interpretations of Mothra she is very much in tune with the religious realm. Mothra is a kami, protector deity of the earth, and if you ever meet her in battle she’ll be sure you know it.

~ guest blogger, Kim Adams

Peaches (Yum!)

2009-02-17T13:54:00.002-05:00

(Today's blog post comes to us from Laura. Thanks Laura!)

As we read in the tenth chapter of the Kojiki, Izanagi was able to fend off the hags of hell using only three peaches; in the text, it appears that the author took this action to be perfectly acceptable, since no further explanation is provided. For most Western readers, however, it seems that a bit more background information is necessary in order to really understand this incredible and unexpected power of the peach.

The idea of peaches as possessing some special power seems to originate in China, where there is a tale involving the Queen Mother of the West, who grows peaches that extend the life of anyone lucky enough to eat one by 3,000 years (Anderson 201). In China, peaches are therefore typically associated with longevity or immortality, and are often imaged as being carried by gods or immortals to symbolize their long lives (Rubin). As we know, much of Japanese religion was shaped by ideas and traditions which were introduced by contact with the Chinese, so it’s not unlikely that the peach would have a similar symbolic role in Japan.

One of the seasonal festivals, or sekku, a tradition which seems to have been introduced to the Japanese by China, is actually named after the peach. Momo-no-sekku (Momo means “peach”, and sekku means “seasonal) is a festival in which people pray for young girls’ health and growth; it is also frequently called Hinamatsuri or “doll’s festival” (Blankestijn). This is one of five seasonal festivals which are intended to eliminate misfortune and evil spirits. Peaches are associated with this ability because, as we saw in the Kojiki, it was believed that they had spirit-banishing qualities (MacKenzie 360).

During the festival, miniature dolls are created and arranged or seated in certain hierarchical orders, typically with peach blossoms nearby (Marsh). Peach blossoms are specifically used, because they were thought to signify feminine traits: gentility, composure, and tranquility. Since this festival is commonly referred to as “girl’s day” in modern Japan, this seems like a fitting decoration. During the festival, small cakes are given as offerings to the dolls, which are decorated with pale pink symbolizing peach blossoms (as well as white to represent snow, and green for grass) (Marsh).

One of the most important peach references in Japanese culture is in the myth of Momotaro, or the “Peach Boy”, which has now become one of the most popular children’s stories in Japan. In one version of the story, a childless couple find a peach floating down a river, which conveniently contains a boy who later goes off to fight demons and have various other heroic adventures (Antoni). In another version of the story, an old woman finds the peach, but instead of containing a child it restores youth to her and her husband after they eat it. After being thus rejuvenated, they make love and produce Momotaro. In this version of the story, the peach is depicted as producing fertility as well as longevity. It is also significant that Momotaro’s great quest is to fight and destroy demons, which reflects the Japanese conception of the peach as having some sort of demon-destroying ability.

Who knew there was so much more to peaches than just a delicious taste!

~guest blogger, Laura Wilson

Kami 紙 (2)

2009-02-13T15:07:00.004-05:00

Here's another use of paper--omikuji. These are paper fortunes that you can purchase at shrines or temples. If the fortune is bad, you can tie it to something within the precincts of the shrine or temple; that will bind the karma of the fortune to the site itself, freeing you from the predicted outcome. In her history of the fortune cookie, Jennifer 8. Lee has suggested that the "Chinese" fortune cookie originated in Japan, and the paper slip inside was originally an omikuji-style fortune.

This is Lee's delightful lecture on the origins of "Chinese food":

Slavoj Zizek on excrement

2009-02-13T15:04:00.002-05:00

I mentioned this lecture in one of the discussion sections yesterday--if you're interested in the work of Slavoj Zizek, you might get a kick out of this. Be forewarned though: it is quite gross.

Kami 紙 (1)

2009-01-27T18:20:00.006-05:00

Right so, I mentioned that kami 神 has two homonyms: not just kami　髪 (hair) but also kami 紙 (paper). What are some religious uses of paper, you ask (as I imagine you)?
Here's one you're likely to encounter: shide--the folded paper that is attached to the straw rope (or shimenawa) that marks the boundary of a sacred space (you can see two of them in between the rope tassels in the photo here).

Shide can also be attached to a willow branch, and used as a harai gushi. This is often translated as "shaking stick"--sweeping the stick with the shide attached has the effect of purifying a space--because the word harai can mean "shaking," but guess what--that's right, another homonym at play. Harai also has the sense of exorcism. So the question is, why does paper folded in a zig-zag pattern function to exorcise powers that are improperly situated? Idle speculation in class is welcome.

Tangent

2009-01-25T21:47:00.005-05:00

In one of the discussion sections I was in last Thursday, we spent some time arguing about the views of the bioethicist Peter Singer--for me it was really fun, and serendipitously, the next day somebody sent me the link to the trailer for Astra Taylor's new film Examined Life which features conversations with some really significant contemporary philosophers, including Singer. Philosophy types, please check out the trailer below.

Kami 髪 (2)

2009-01-25T21:30:00.004-05:00

We've talked in class a bit about the division of the body into the upper half, which is pure (or masculine) and the lower half, which is impure (or feminine). One of the things that has captured the religious imagination across Asia is the possibility of interpreting the upper and lower halves of the body as mirror images, and so perhaps it's not surprising--since we've seen so much interest in the hair that grows from the head--that we also see some interest in other instances of body hair, including sosoke.

In his 2003 Power of Denial Bernard Faure tells us of two Buddhist temples said to have enshrined sosoke, and one Shinto shrine that claimed to possess the sosoke of the deity Benzaiten (or Sarasvati). In contemporary Japan, there is a shrine associated with a new religious movement which is also said to have enshrined three thousand samples of sosoke. Good heavens.

Black hair / white hair

2009-01-17T08:00:00.006-05:00

We've been talking in class about the dichotomies of living / dead, human / animal, and upper / lower, and we noted that in Ohnuki-Tierney's account, this gets supplemented by another dichotomy--male / female. In the Japanese context, it's also possible to think about that male / female, living / dead dichotomy in terms of the colours white and black.

In one case that I'm aware of, the hair of a dead person is considered to become 'white' once a certain period of time has elapsed. This means that the hair is no longer a source of impurity, and can safely be transported beyond the border that marks a separation between the sacred realm of the dead and the ordinary world of the living. This is a border that women aren't allowed to cross while alive, but their hair can make that journey once it has become white. In this context, 'white' is obviously given a positive value--in some sense it indicates exactly that the hair is now thoroughly removed from the process of decay, and so wonderfully, inertly pure.

It's also the case however, that in some communities it is understood that a female shaman's powers of transgression, which allow her to negotiate the worlds of the living and the dead, are localized in her long, unbound hair. In this case, the blacker the hair, the better--'black' is afforded an ambiguous value but that ambiguity is desirable somehow. I was thinking about this in light of what we were talking about in class--it seems to me that hair must fall in the same category of materials--old blood, human excreta, trash--that Ohnuki-Tierney identifies as polluting, and yet, it seems to have yet another level of ambiguity in that it is ambiguous even in its ambiguity. What do you guys think?

(The image above is from the NYPL Digital Gallery)

Kami 髪 (1)

2009-01-11T12:00:00.000-05:00

In premodern Japan, hair is identified as a special locus of generative power, and of personality. For this reason there are a number of ways in which social power gets bound up with hair, and a lot of reasons to bind up hair. Here, for your consideration, are four examples:
(1) Hair is incorporated into embroideries of the Buddhas as a way of forging a link between the devotee and the Buddha represented in the embroidery (see ten Grotenhuis 1999);
(2) The American Orientalist Lafcadio Hearn reports seeing locks of hair bound to the gates of the Izumo shrine, which specializes in marriage (see Hearn 1894);
(3) Hearn also notes the circulation of stories in which wives unbind their hair when they go to sleep, whereupon the hair promptly transforms into serpents--symbols of poisonous desire, repressed during the daytime (see Hearn 1894; Matisoff 2002);
(4) Folklorist Yanagita Kunio also reported a number of folk practices and beliefs revolving around women's hair--the practice, for example, of boat captains keeping the hair of their wives or daughters onboard ship as a protective talisman (see Faure 2003).

This association of hair and a generativity which is at once the source of a lot of interest and a lot of anxiety might help to explain in part the concern we noted in Landor with the "hairiness" of the Ainu.

Kami Kami Kami

2009-01-07T11:00:00.001-05:00

My next project is on the incorporation of the human body into memorial objects in modern Japan. One of the objects I'll be looking at is this rope made of human hair, enshrined at Higashi Honganji in Kyoto. In Japanese the rope is called a kedzuna, which means exactly what you would think it would mean: hair rope. According to the explanations provided by the temple, human hair was used to make the rope because it was the only material strong enough to move the massive wooden beams used in the construction of the temple. My hunch is that this is probably not quite true—or not the whole truth anyway. I had the opportunity to present some of my thoughts on the hair rope at a conference a couple of years ago, and Leslie Kawamura suggested at that time that one of the things that might underlie the choice to use human hair in the rope was the fact that the Japanese word for human hair (kami 髪) is a homonym for kami 神. It just so happens that the Japanese word for paper (kami 紙) is also a homonym for kami 神. This month we’ll be spending quite a bit of time in class talking about kami 神, so I’m going to try to put some things up on the blog about kami 髪 and kami 紙.

ようこそ

2009-01-05T15:00:00.000-05:00

Welcome back to school everyone, and welcome to the Japanese Religions and Material Culture blog!

This project was inspired by Adrienne Hurley's amazing use of blogs in her classes at McGill and elsewhere. I will be blogging throughout the semester, and each of the students taking Japanese Religions this year will eventually contribute a guest post on an object of his or her choosing. By spring, we'll have a valuable archive of information for future students. Nice, right?