Like this post? Help us by sharing it!
Seasons and cycles
Living in Japan, I’ve been flabbergasted a number of times when someone has asked, in all seriousness, if my home country of England has the same cycle of four seasons as Japan. It’s something the Japanese hold as unique and prized.
While politely pointing out that Japan is not alone in recognising the passage of four distinct seasons, you have to admit the seasonal changes here have a more dramatic flair. I live in Kyoto – and when the mercury hits 39°C in the summer, it’s hard to recall the thick blanket of snow that comes with winter. The spring and autumn seasons, with their famous cherry blossoms and autumn leaves respectively, bring their own concrete distinctions. The ensuing appreciation, sometimes even verging on fetishisation, of the seasons in Japan has had a wide-ranging effect on the country’s literature, art, and the cycle of annual observances.
Life in Japan places a unique emphasis on cycles; whether it be on the journey from birth to death, the annual round of the seasons, or the monthly (and even daily) observances at Shinto shrines and Buddhist temples across the country.
New Year in Japan
New Year is perhaps the most important family occasion in Japan, when people travel back to their hometowns to be with their families. The mass exodus from Tokyo by air, rail and road makes the news every year, with hours of backed up traffic congestion on the way out of the capital – and then the reverse a few days later.
The festivities begin on New Year’s Eve, when families often visit a Buddhist temple to listen to the huge bell being rung 108 times; one toll to cleanse each of the defilements that we have, according to Buddhist teachings. At some point over the next three days the family will likely visit a Shinto shrine for ‘hatsumode’: the first shrine visit of the new year. Visitors pray for health and happiness in the year to come, and will most likely pay to receive an ‘omikuji’, a randomly drawn slip of paper which tells your fortune.
New Year superstitions
Almost all shrines and temples in Japan sell ‘omamori’, a kind of lucky amulet contained in a small fabric pouch. In a rather business-savvy move, the religious establishments in Japan insist that these charms ‘expire’ after a year, so it’s traditional to take your old ones back to where you bought them at New Year, where they are ritually burned, and to purchase new ‘fresh’ ones. You can buy omamori tailored to life’s hurdles like passing examinations, safe childbirth or job hunting.
Good health for the year ahead is always a prime concern, and many temples and shrines hold special festivals during the first weeks of the year with this in mind. The Hoju-ji and Rokuharamitsu-ji temples in Kyoto both draw huge crowds in early January. People visit to partake of the magical radish soup and pickled plum tea, both believed to protect the body from illness in the year ahead.
Even your dreams on the night of New Year’s Day are said to have a predictive effect on the year ahead. Known as ‘hatsuyume’, meaning ‘first dream’, it’s considered to be particularly auspicious to dream of Mt Fuji, eagles, and aubergines! Decorative hanging scrolls hung in households at New Year often contain one or all of these motifs, perhaps in an effort to influence your dream state.
The next major seasonal festival in Japan is Setsubun on February 3rd. This festival traditionally marked the beginning of spring, according to the lunar calendar – although according to the modern calendar, it still feels decidedly wintery.
The most famous Setsubun tradition is called ‘mamemaki’, or ‘bean scattering’, where the male head of the household dresses up as a demon. Other members of his family then throw dried soybeans at him while shouting ‘Demons Out, Good Luck In!’. Many temples and shrines in Japan stage large-scale performances of this ritual, where people try to catch the beans to take home for good luck.
The mid-August Obon festival of the ancestors is perhaps second only to New Year’s in importance in Japan. It’s the only other time of year that sees a mass exodus out of the major cities as people return to their hometowns and villages.
At Obon, the spirits of the deceased are thought to return to this world for a short time, and are greeted and hosted by their descendants. Families will go together to their parish temple to clean and decorate their ancestral grave. Larger households that have a Buddhist altar in their homes will invite a priest to come to their house to perform a memorial service. Many of Japan’s major festivals take place at this time of year, in mid-summer, and will often incorporate a ‘Bon-Odori’ where the whole town comes dressed in their yukata, a light cotton kimono, to perform a rhythmic dance around a central stage accompanied by traditional music.
In Kyoto, August 16th is the ‘Daimonji’ festival, which marks the end of Obon. During this festival, five huge bonfires are lit on the mountainside surrounding the city, guiding the spirits of the ancestors home.
Although related to neither Buddhism or Shinto, Christmas also sees its fair share of festivity in contemporary Japan, although mainly of a secular and commercialised nature. Christmas Eve has become something of a second Valentine’s Day, so anyone hoping to secure a table at a nice restaurant at the last minute will likely be disappointed! Due to very clever marketing, KFC has also managed to convince the entire nation that tradition dictates ordering a large bucket of fried chicken on Christmas Day. It’s so popular, you need to make a pick-up reservation weeks in advance!
Some major Buddhist and Shinto deities have an ‘ennichi’, a day in which their influence is thought to be most powerful. For me personally, the 28th of each month holds a special place in my heart. It’s the ennichi of my favourite Buddhist deity, Fudo Myoo. He’s a rather wrathful looking chap, but deep down he’s a big softy!
At Tanukidani Fudo-in, my favourite temple in Kyoto (which enshrines Fudo Myoo as the main deity), there is a special service on the 28th of each month. Of these services, the most impressive takes place annually on July 28th. Mountain ascetic priests perform a fire ceremony in the central courtyard, which involves the practice of ‘fire walking’ across burning embers. After the embers have died down to an appropriate level, members of the public are invited to traverse the flames. Not for the faint of heart!
For many in Japan, ritual cycles also take place on a daily basis. Many of the older generation, who tend to be more devout, begin each day in front of their household Buddhist altar. Lighting a candle and some incense, they spend a few minutes praying, with deceased family members being the main focus of contemplation.
Outside of the home, at large temples such as Zenko-ji in Nagano, it’s not uncommon to see worshippers attending the main service every day – which is held at an ungodly hour of the morning! Even in large cities such as Tokyo or Osaka, one will often see a suited office worker with their briefcase make their regular 60-second stop at a Shinto shrine along the route to the office; likely praying that their next business deal will be a success!
The Shikoku Henro
As a tour leader in a country with no tourists, I’ve found the time to attend to something that’s long been on my bucket list: the Shikoku Henro. Also known as the 88 Temple Pilgrimage, it’s one of the oldest in the world. Forget going from A to B though – even this is cyclical in nature. There is no “goal”; instead one travels 1,200km around the whole of Shikoku, the smallest of Japan’s four main islands, to each of its 88 temples.
It takes at least six weeks to complete on foot – but these days it’s pretty acceptable to complete the pilgrimage by bicycle, car, or even coach tour. I’ve been visiting each of the four prefectures of Shikoku one by one (and yes, I’ll admit to doing it by car rather than on foot!).
At one of the temples, I met Takahashi-san, a man in his late seventies who was completing the pilgrimage (on foot!) for the 15th time. It’s traditional for walking pilgrims to use a wooden hiking stick with a bell on the end. Talking with Takahashi-san, I noticed that he was carrying two, something I’d never seen before. The second had belonged to his wife, now deceased, with whom he had completed the pilgrimage a number of times in the past.
I was incredibly moved by the fact that for Takahashi-san’s wife, the cyclical nature of life in Japan hadn’t ceased with the passing of her body, but that she continued to travel around and around Shikoku accompanying her husband on the route that they once traversed together.
Along with Takahashi-san’s wife, the spirits of the ancestors in Japan who continue to be worshipped each August during the Obon festival, or even daily at household Buddhist altars, continue to be a part of a never-ending cycle of reverence and remembrance; a cycle that their descendants will also join in time, and therefore one that never truly ends.