Showing posts with label Miyajima. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Miyajima. Show all posts

Sunday, June 7, 2020

A Pilgrimage to Itsukushima

-- Susan, every other Sunday


It is difficult to write anything with the world in flames. Every time I turn on my computer, I see fear, anger, prejudice and hate: toxins that poison the human soul.

With Japan re-opening into a "new normal" - with masks and distancing still in place - we venture forth into a world far different than the one we left a scant four months ago. In the United States, where most of my family (and many of you reading this) still reside, the unrest continues.


Instead of talking about those issues (which would require far more space and time than I have here to address properly, not to mention that this platform is not mine alone), today I'm going to fan a different kind of flame.


The island of Itsukushima, also known as Miyajima, sits an hour by train and another ten minutes by ferry south of Hiroshima. For centuries, the island has been considered sacred to the Shinto faith, as the home to the three divine daughters of Susanoō, the god of storms and the younger brother of Amaterasu Ō-mikami, the chief deity in the Shintō pantheon (and the goddess of the sun). Susanoō's daughters, Ichikishimahime, Tagorihime, and Tagitsuhime, are storm gods in their own right--and as if that wasn't enough divinity for one island, the land and mountains of Miyajima are considered sacred, and divine in their own right.

Sacred Mt. Misen rising behind Itsukushima Shrine


The first shrine on Itsukushima (unsurprisingly, called Itsukushima Shrine) was constructed during the 6th century. At that time, most people were not allowed to set foot on the island, so the shrine was constructed partially over the water, below the high tide line.

Today, the visitors come in tour boats, rather than rowboats. Many come to look, but many still come to pray.


Worshippers would approach in boats, at high tide, to pay their respects to the island and its deities.

The Otorii at low tide.


During the 9th century, a priest named Kōbō Daishi (then called Kūkai) came to the island to meditate. While there, he founded Daishō-in, one of the most important Shingon temples in Japan. (Before his entry into eternal meditation, Kūkai went on to found Kōyasan, which remains the center of Shingon worship in Japan to this day.)

One of many sacred guardian statues on Miyajima


In addition to founding the temple, Kōbō Daishi meditated atop Mt. Misen, the island's highest peak, and lit an eternal flame in a temple high on the mountainside. It burns there to this day.


In 1168, the Shintō shrine on the waterfront was rebuilt and expanded under the patronage of Taira no Kiyomori, a leading member of the Taira clan; around this time, the shrine acquired the first of its iconic Ōtorii (Great Torii).


The Ōtorii of Miyajima


The shrine, like the temple, remains fully functional to this day. People are no longer forbidden to set foot on the island (in fact, between the picturesque shrine, the iconic "floating Ōtorii" and the island's friendly deer - who are notably less aggressive than their sacred brethren in Nara -- Miyajima is one of Japan's largest tourist draws); however, Shintō taboos about death are still respected there. No one has died on the island since the 19th century (and then, it was an accident) and burials are not permitted there.


On a personal note, Miyajima was the place where I first realized I wanted to make Japan my home. It was also the site where I climbed my first Japanese mountain--Misen--in June of 2015, and where my dream of climbing 100 Japanese mountains first took hold.

The trailhead where it all began.


The sacred flame that Kōbō Daishi lit twelve centuries ago was also used to light the eternal flame at the memorial in Hiroshima Peace Park, connecting those prayers for peace across the centuries--in which, the human race had still failed to conquer the fear, anger, prejudice, and hate that continue to plague us.

And yet, that flame--and the hope it represents--still burns.

Koi in the rain, Miyajima, 2015


Later this month, I hope to take my first trip outside of Tokyo in half a year. I considered my destination carefully . . . but the decision did not take long. Almost five years to the day after my first ascent, I will once stand on Misen's slopes, on a pilgrimage to that sacred flame, to offer prayers for peace.

The Otorii at night.


I pray the world will see it in my lifetime, but if not, I trust that we, the human race, will keep on trying. Because even when the world appears to be ablaze with angry flames, on a little island off the coast of Hiroshima, a flame of hope still burns.




Sunday, April 29, 2018

My Thoughts On Miyajima? Oh, Deer.

-- Susan, every other Sunday

When asked to rate my favorite places in Japan, Miyajima--a sacred island off the coast of Hiroshima--always makes the list, for its fabulous shrine, great hiking, amazing ryokan . . . and, of course, its resident sika (deer).

Objects in picture are closer--and fuzzier--than they appear.

It takes about six hours' travel by shinkansen from Tokyo, and another 30 minutes by ferry, to reach Miyajima, making it a lengthy trip for a place so small.

Miyajima from the ferry. The famous Otorii is just left of center.

That said, an overnight stay on Miyajima is worth the effort (at least in my opinion).

The Otorii--one of Japan's iconic images and the gateway to Itsukushima Shrine

For much of its history, Miyajima was considered so sacred that ordinary people could not even set foot on its soil. (Itsukushima Shrine sits below the high tide line, so worshippers could step directly onto the shrine from their boats, preventing them from profaning the sacred sand.)

The island is no longer off limits to visitors, but remains a historically sacred space. It's also still inhabited by hundreds of sacred deer that have lived on the island for over a century, and have no fear of humans.

Picturesque doesn't even start to describe it.

Although signs on the island warn that the deer are wild, and may bite or kick, evidence suggests the deer don't read the signs.

Clearly a dangerous wild beast.

One even tried to follow my son and me into a restaurant - and waited at the door for over an hour, hoping someone would let him in.

Table for one?


Even if you don't approach the deer, many of them will come to you, in hopes of a handout or a scratch around the ears.

Will someone please buy me a cookie?

Unlike Nara--Japan's other famously deer-filled location (about which I've blogged here in the past)--the sika of Miyajima won't mug you or rip the pockets off your pants in hopes of finding a hidden cracker.

More interested in the beach than your pants. Trust me, that's a good thing.

Miyajima's resident quadrupeds are more relaxed and far less pushy--like everyone else who lives near a lovely beach.

Beach bums come in all shapes and sizes.

That said, they're more than willing to pose for photos - which led to one of my all-time favorite portraits of my son.

A boy and his . . . deer?

The sika may not be the island's most important historical feature, or even the reason most people make the trip, but for me, they will always remain one of its most . . . endearing features.