Shimenawa: A Spelling Dilemma

(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

(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

(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

(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

(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

(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

(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