Читать книгу Supernatural and Mysterious Japan - Catrien Ross - Страница 8

Supernatural and Mysterious

Japan

CHAPTER ONE

In Search of the Supernatural

It is an eerie place. A barren moonscape of jagged rocks and no trees. Bubbling sulfur hot springs, some yellow, some blood-red, release the stink of rotten eggs into the gloomy air. Here and there, wisps of steam rise from cracks in stone that can be icy or hot to the touch. A short walk away, at the crater’s center, a stretch of water known as Lake Usori gleams dark and still. Perhaps it is mere fancy, but standing on the shore, aptly called the “shore of paradise,” the feeling is that if one were to set sail for the other side, there would be no return. In this murky water only one species of fish, a type of dace, can survive the acidic content. All around, the gray desolation, broken only by a few, hardy rhododendron bushes, could be a stage prop for an imagined scene from hell, or the most likely place for lost spirits to wander.

Such is the landscape of Mount Osore, a forbidding caldera (its name means “Dread”) located near the tip of the axe-shaped shimokita Peninsula in Aomori Prefecture, part of Japan’s northern Tohoku region. Long considered sacred, it is supposedly a spot where the living and the dead can meet. In local idiom, those who have died have “gone to the mountain,” and it is at this crater that contact can once again be made with family members who have long since left the human world. Today, this supernatural connection takes place during a special festival held twice a year. The main event is the summer Osorezan Jizo Festival, held in Mutsu City, from July 20–24, with a second festival held from October 9–11. At these times, Mount Osore is lit by some forty lanterns, which flicker ghostlike through the night.

People anxious to communicate with the spirits of dead relatives head here from all over Japan to consult with the area’s shamanistic mediums, traditionally blind, old women known as itako. Usually a girl novice enters itako training before her first menstruation. She then spends several years learning chants, prayers, and a form of fortunetelling. Once she completes the ritual known as kamitsuke, in which she goes into a trance, she is believed to have entered a holy marriage, shinkon, and is thereafter qualified to become an independent practitioner. At the July festival especially, many itako gather at Mount Osore’s main gate to perform for visitors as mediums in an activity called kuchiyose, or speaking in the voice of the dead.

Reasons why people come to this supernatural setting are numerous: a yearning tor remembrance, comfort from grief, psychological problems, or simply a desire for advice or reassurance. When she is given specific information such as a name, the medium begins keening in a singsong voice to initiate the trance that can transport her to limbo, where she will search for the designated soul and possibly bring back a message. Sometimes her voice abruptly changes, or her pattern of moving shifts, indicating that spirit contact has been made and a message is coming through. Unfortunately, any communications from the spirit world are relayed in a northern dialed so thick that even natives of this area have difficulty understanding. Nevertheless, many people leave Mount Osore satisfied that they have indeed reached the spirits of, say, a dead spouses or children.

What mysteries might lie across the water from Mount “shore of paradise”? (Photo courtesy of Aomori Prefectural Government)

Not that all requests are successful, of course. Some visitors, for instance, lose courage at the last moment and instead of calling up souls of dead people whom they knew personally, escape by asking about some well-known Japanese politician instead. One man reportedly asked about Marilyn Monroe, to whom he had no relation at all. Given the mystery of the afterlife, perhaps people feel it’s safer that way.

When the hectic festivals are over, the itako return to their village homes, where they continue to be quietly consulted throughout the year on tasks ranging from calling down household gods (families in this region have personal household gods), to healing the sick. If a person falls ill, an itako, as shaman, can attempt to identify the spirit that is causing the sickness. If she is successful, she rids the body of the intruder, thus curing the patient of the disease.

But shamanic traditions and ancient folk beliefs are not the only religions evident at this centuries-old holy spot. Mount Osore is also home to the Entsuji temple, established in 845, and now run by the Soto sect of Zen Buddhism. This major Zen discipline was founded in Japan by Dogen (1200–53) after his return from China in 1227. The temple buildings are dispersed among the sulfur springs and rock outcrops, and there are also wooden bathhouses, free for anyone to use.

Buddhist influence shows in the numerous Jizo (one of the Bodhisattva) statues encountered between the main temple buildings and Lake Usori. Jizo is the guardian deity of children, so when the summer visitor season ends, his statues are typically covered with offerings of infant-sized clothing, as well as food, drink, and small toys. These gifts are meant to aid him in taking care of children who have died and are struggling to reach the next world. One of his jobs is to make nightly rounds of the rocky riverbed which lies between this world and the next, a stretch of land known as the Sai no Kawara. As he walks around at night, he encourages the yet-homeless spirits, who are busily piling up small mounds of stones, to enter paradise. At the same time, he frightens away the malevolent demons who delight in constantly knocking down the stone piles the spirits have so painstakingly built. Visitors to Mount Osore often add a stone or two to existing piles, or construct new ones, as a way of lending a helping human hand to the unseen spirit world. Becausejizo’s sandals soon wear out on the rocks of the riverbed, offerings of straw sandals are also commonly left at the feet of his statues.

From mystic Mount Osore, it is a 1,380-kilometer journey south, as the crow flies, to a supernatural display of a very different sort.

In the city of Nagasaki on Kyushu, Japan’s third largest island, there is a small cafe called Andersen, situated on the second floor of the building next to the bus terminal at Kawadana Station. Andersen is run by Hisamura Toshihide, a fortyish man of earnest demeanor who claims supernatural ability in the form of psychokinetic power, in Japanese. Hisamura’s reputation is such that it now draws people from throughout the country, and there are almost always taxis waiting to whisk a stream of curious visitors to and from Nagasaki Airport, about a thirty-minute ride away. The cafe has become a venue for Hisamura’s psychokinetic shows, staged three times daily, at 10 a.m. 2 p.m., and 6 p.m. With seven tables and one long counter, the cafe can seat only thirty customers, and once it is full, additional visitors must await the next show. Although there is no charge for the show itself, customers must order from a menu that offers standard Japanese-style coffee shop fare at regular prices, including curried rice with beef, and sandwiches. One requirement is that all customers must come with an open mind. Skeptics and naysayers are not welcome, and anyone who voices initial suspicion is asked to leave, a policy Hisamura justifies by noting that he does not charge for admission to the show.

After customers have eaten, the display begins. On a typical day, Hisamura, wearing an apron and rolling up his sleeves, joins his audience. A favorite opener is to ask for a customer’s cigarette, which he places on his palm, where it levitates and jumps. When he places the same cigarette in a glass, it pops right out. Borrowing a watch, he stops the long hand at the time he specifies aloud. Again, using no hands, he sets another watch at a time requested by a customer. Someone in the audience is asked to touch Hisamura, who then slows or stops his own pulse. Another customer draws a picture, which Hisamura duplicates without ever seeing it. One government researcher who watched Hisamura’s performance listed at least twenty-eight observed feats. A spoon bends or becomes a fork. Bolts bend. Coins grow bigger. Dice are controlled. Raw egg appears out of tissue paper. Paper money floats above Hisamura’s hands or moves around inside a glass container.

Is all this really supernatural ability? Some critics dismiss Hisamura as a mere conjurer, and a shabby one at that. Others, among them the chairman of Sony Corporation, are impressed by his talents, convinced that his psychokinetic powers are genuine. A book about Hisamura’s life details the history of his supernatural development and life philosophy, but the jury is still out. Meanwhile, Andersen customers continue to delight in his shows, enthusiastically oohing and aahing with each new feat. Viewing is limited, however. A notice on the wall requests anyone who has seen the show once to wait at least one month before returning. Someone who has seen him twice already is asked to come back at least three months later. Hisamura’s reasoning is that other people should have a chance to see his free demonstrations of what he calls psychic mind over matter.

In examining the supernatural in Japanese society, it is important to bear in mind that the activities at Mount Osore and Andersen, while not exactly ordinary, are by no means rare. In fact, they are just two examples of the persistent fascination with the supernatural that has characterized Japanese culture from its beginning.

Elements of the supernatural permeate Japan’s folklore and traditions, and a sense of the mysterious remains a dynamic force today. In a bustling megalopolis like Tokyo, where some twelve million people support the economic behemoth that is modern Japan, the search for the supernatural is easily obscured from the casual observer. A closer look, however, reveals that not only does interest in the supernatural endure, but in recent years it has actually increased as Japanese people have sought to combine their economic efforts with a striving for spiritual gratification. In the search for life’s deeper meaning, a probe into the supernatural seems a natural progression.

Take the mass media, for example. The supernatural is one of the most popular topics in the entertainment world, and psychics and mediums make regular television appearances. Books on the paranormal become instant bestsellers, and entire magazines are now devoted to various psychic phenomena. Classes in the supernatural are sought after by everyone from college students to the elderly, and there is a burgeoning network of courses in psychic power enhancement. Some of these are linked to religious groups or associations, long known for their training in supernatural techniques. Others are headed by individuals who have undergone a personal, mystic experience. Indeed, self-appointed gurus of the supernatural abound, and sales of paraphernalia for developing individual psychic potential are brisk.

Each week, it seems, there is a growing number of advertisements for lectures in such subjects as psychokinesis, clairvoyance, telepathy, astral travel, channeling, and even UFO investigations. What’s more, the roster of so-called ordinary people who have become psychic celebrities continues to swell. There is the sarariiman (white-collar, salaried employee) whose unexpectedly awakened healing gifts have brought him nationwide fame. A movie about his life has already been released. Another healer, a former veterinarian, cures a host of ailments using only his hands and eyes. Japanese television cameras follow a well-known medium as she trots the globe in her attempt to contact spirits of the dead.

In this nation where meditating monks exist side by side with staid-suited white-collar workers, esoteric mystic practices have never lost their appeal. Secretive sects and reclusive spiritual groups have existed for centuries, each with its own methods of tapping the supernatural. There is also an established history of bizarre cults, many of which are based on the perceived psychic power of their founders. Shake most religious sects and out will probably fall a leader with paranormal talents that initially attracted followers. In Japan the spiritual quest and supernatural awakening have often been synonymous.

In other words, the search for the supernatural is not a recent phenomenon. A look at the roots of Japanese mythology reveals that Japan brims over with gods and goddesses, resulting in what is known as the “rush hour of the gods.” There are said to be eight million deities, who reside not only in Paradise, but also everywhere on earth. These deities, or kami, live in mountains, rivers, lakes, forests, rocks, and individual homes, according to the pantheon of Shinto, which literally means the “kami way.” The term kami basically is a title for any honorable, sacred spirit, and since all beings have such spirits, anything can be a kami. They are thus believed to be represented by everything from Mount Fuji to the household cooking stove. They are even found in the toilet. In Japan the most lofty to the most mundane is endowed with supernatural properties.

Nor is every deity benevolent. Numerous demons, or oni, are thought of as malignant supernatural forces believed to mirror the dark side of human nature. Destructive to the world of humankind, these incarnate universal forces exert evil influence which must be guarded against or purified. Millions of Japanese people carry small charms to ward off demons or any misfortune they might cause. And a ritual of demon expulsion is carried out by many Japanese housewives as a way of marking the end of winter on a day called setsubun. Demons also represent natural forces such as wind and thunder, the storm spirits with their devastating anger.

To these native animistic beliefs, so closely linked with nature, have been added the deities of Buddhism, a religion which came to Japan around 552, bringing supernatural overtones from India, China, and Korea. A demon queller from China’s Tang dynasty (618–907), for example, was readily adopted into Japanese folk mythology as Shoki. Later Buddhist portrayals of this entity depict him as one of hell’s judges in the “hell scrolls,” or Jigoku-zoshoi of Japan’s Kamakura era (1185–1392). Another import from China were tales of the eight immortals of Taoism. These were believed to be historical personages who had achieved human transcendence through rigorous refinement of body and mind into a supernatural state. As Zen Buddhist thought developed in Japan, these immortals came to symbolize intellectual and spiritual freedom.

Then there are the goblins. Japanese mountain temples often display the mask of the long-nosed goblin known as the tengu. The tengu, which looks like a ferocious Pinocchio, may have been introduced into Japan from India by way of China, and may derive from the Hindu Buddhist guardian Garuda, the mythical bird deity able to transform its shape. A messenger and helper to the gods, Garuda is also an enemy of serpents and demons. At the Todaiji temple in Nara, there are wooden masks of scowling bird heads and long-nosed men that are thought to have been carved in the seventh and eighth centuries. Now protected as “National Treasures,” such masks were once used in gigaku performances, religious dances which originated in Tibet and India and arrived in Japan by way of Korea in 612. Although no longer danced today, gigaku were once considered the proper musical accompaniment to prayer in Japan’s Buddhist temples.

This mask depicts a long-nosed tengu, or mountain goblin.

With its magical powers, the tengu figures prominently in earlier Japanese folk tales and legends, and there are also close ties to Buddhist lore. In Japan, the tengu lost some of its fearsome and revered nature, becoming an impish goblin among whose favorite tricks was changing into the form of a Buddhist priest or nun, or even Buddha. In such guises, it would waylay unsuspecting monks, or lead them down the wrong path. Japanese tengu also evolved into two distinct types: karasu tengu, a crow-headed figure which has a body covered by feathers and long claws in the place of fingers and toes; and konoha tengu, the long-nosed kind. During the twelfth century, the concept of “tengu road” came to mean punishment in the form of exile for hypocritical or vainglorious Buddhist priests. Some say tengu are actually reincarnations of wicked priests who are being punished for being too proud or greedy.

Tengu are also associated with Japan’s mountain priests or yamabushi, known even now for their magical, ascetic practices on holy mountains. In fact, tengu often wear the hexagonal hats of yamabushi and carry feather fans which they use for making themselves invisible or working other magic. Because these goblins dwell in mountains or high forests, rural villagers still make offerings to them before cutting down trees, or hold festivals in their honor. Trees themselves are thought to contain spirits that are usually benevolent, but sometimes inimical to human beings, so it is well to appease them, too, just in case.

Sometimes tengu are thought to cause illness, and they are said to have haunted Hojo Takatoki (1303–33), who committed suicide as the last Hojo regent of the Kamakura bakufu, or military government. Strongly criticized for preferring drinking to politics, in his later years he was constantly plagued by nightmares of aggressive tengu. Minamoto no Yoshitsune (1159–89), on the other hand, is said to have found tengu to be extremely helpful; legend has it that they taught him the secrets of martial arts and military strategy. Perhaps the greatest of all Japan’s popular heroes, Yoshitsune is celebrated in the Heike Monogatari (Tale of the Heike), created in the early thirteenth century. This epic war tale, which has much in common with the European Song of Roland, recounts the battle between the Heike and Minamoto clans, with Yoshitsune fighting for the victory of the Genji over the Taira. Recited to successive generations of listeners, the Heike Monogaiari illustrates idealized warrior-class behavior against a backdrop of Buddhist attitudes and ethics.

At the age of seven, Minamoto no Yoshitsune was sent to study at the temple founded in 770 on Kyoto’s Mount Kurama. There, in the Valley of Sojo, were said to have lived tengu, ruled over by an old king with white hair and a long, flowing beard. Yoshitsune’s early lessons from tengu teachers are supposed to have resulted in an illustrious military career that continued until his thirty-second year, when, rather than face defeat at Takadachi, in modern-day Iwate Prefecture, he killed his wife and children, set his castle on fire, and committed suicide.

While tengu and demon quellers were imported, an entity uniquely native to Japan is the kappa. This curious creature has a beaked mouth, a scaly body covered by a tortoise shell, and a hollow on the crown of its head filled with a magical liquid from which it derives its strength and supernatural powers. Kappa can have quite evil intentions, luring children and washerwomen into the water and drowning them. To forestall kappa malevolence, however, one need only bow upon greeting it. Being Japanese, the kappa will immediately bow in return, thereby tipping out the magical fluid and rendering itself helpless. Or, one can try to tame a kappa by offering its favorite food, cucumber.

This unpredictable Japanese water spirit somewhat resembles one of the best-known ghostly beings of Scotland, the kelpie. Mostly haunting rivers, the kelpie lures the unwary to their death by drowning, usually by assuming the shape of a horse which invites its quarry to mount it, then plunges with its rider into the nearest stretch of water.

Animals, too, both real and mythical, play a vital role in the world of the Japanese super natural. Creatures most likely to possess magical talents are foxes, badger-like animals called tanuki, and snakes. But the magician’s parade also includes frogs, turtles, cats, dogs, monkeys, birds, mice, wolves, wild pigs, deer, horses, otters, weasels, spiders, butterflies, fireflies, and even lowly earthworms. Earthquakes in Japan, for instance, are believed to be caused when a gargantuan, subterranean catfish stirs in its sleep and sets the entire earth trembling. In tale and metaphor, animals are endowed with human characteristics, or vice versa. They frequently interact with human beings in mysterious ways, creating supernatural frameworks within which to tell stories, teach morals, or point out paths.

Foxes are preeminent tricksters, typically deploying their wiles to frighten, poke fun at, or sometimes seduce human beings. A fox can appear as a beautiful woman who bewitches a man into madness and death, or, more rarely, shows him gratitude for a kind deed he has done for her. The Japanese word for “fox,” or kitsune, can even be used as an adjective for a particularly enchanting, attractive woman. At the same time, foxes have a charitable aspect: a fox is considered the messenger for the deity of abundant rice harvests, and pairs of foxes are evident throughout Japan as guardians at shrines to the god. Crafted of pottery, stone, or bronze, one of the pair carries in its mouth a jewel or power-granting scroll, while the other holds the key to a storehouse of wealth. A well-known fox tale dating back more than one thousand years tells of the “Golden Nine-tailed Fox,” the female leader of a fox tribe who had caused considerable trouble in India and China. She escaped to Japan, and in a twelfth-century version assumes the guise of lady Tamamo no Mae. Loved by Emperor Toba (1103–56), she one day cast a spell on him, and he fell sick and almost died. She was eventually found out by the court astrologer, Abe no Yasunari, who held up a sacred mirror reflecting her true fox form. Pursued and cornered by a skilled archer, she transformed herself at the point of death into a rock that afterward was said to have killed instantly anyone foolish enough to touch its surface. The rock, dubbed sessho seki, or the “death stone,” was finally destroyed in the fifteenth century by the holy monk, Genno, and stories say it disappeared with an enormous explosion of poisonous smoke. Intriguingly, one report claims that the rock’s supposed site in what is now Tochigi Prefecture contains unusually high levels of arsenic in the surrounding area.

Another wily schemer is the tanuki, and a legend from the Shojoji temple in Tatebayashi, Gunma Prefecture, tells of the lucky teakettle that was really a tanuki, leading the monks in a merry chase to capture it. When a tanuki reaches the age of one thousand years it acquires supernatural powers which enable it to transform its shape into all manner of living beings and objects, although its favorite disguise is a Buddhist priest. On a moonlit night a tanuki can lead travelers astray by beating on its enormous belly, emulating the comforting, rhythmic beat of a temple drum. Although they are more mischievous than truly evil, tanuki have been blamed for devouring the wives of woodcutters and accused of smothering hunters beneath their oversized scrota.

This pair of foxes acts as the twin guardians of a fox shrine.

Particularly strong mystic powers belong to snakes, which in ancient religions throughout the world have inspired reverential awe as well as fear. In Japan, a stylized snake dance, imported from India via China and Korea, used to be performed, reflecting an ages-old Japanese worship of snakes. A white snake is considered a messenger of the gods, while related serpent-dragons control water and weather and protect humankind from fire and pestilence. A Shinto ceremony at the Izumo Grand Shrine in Shimane Prefecture celebrates the arrival of Japanese deities riding on a great, white serpent. Old farmhouses in Japan often have a large snake, or aodaisho, slithering somewhere on the premises, and this is accepted as a good omen tied to the safety and fortune of the house and family. But lustful female snakes may seek human mates, transforming themselves into voluptuous women to seduce unsuspecting males. Snakes appear as symbols of fertility, untrammeled passion, and uncontrollable natural phenomena. One mythological interpretation depicts snakes as the connection between the world of mortals and the world of eternity.

Various specific properties are assigned to the astonishing array of animals on Japan’s supernatural stage. Another messenger of the gods is the deer, a sacred animal associated with prosperity and longevity. Today, more than one thousand tame deer roam freely around the park in Nara, which served as the old capital city of Japan from 710 to 784. According to a much-loved Chinese legend adapted by the Japanese, a magical monkey king named Son Goku, along with a kappa and a boar, accompany the Buddhist priest Genjo Sanzo on his journey to India to collect sacred scriptures. Their travels are plagued by encounters with demons and ghosts, but the group eventually reaches India, where the priest studies at Naranda Temple. After seventeen years, Genjo Sanzo returns to China bearing 657 volumes of sutras. He founds two new Buddhist sects and spends the rest of his life translating the holy texts he had gathered. Television viewers in Japan even now delight in the dazzling special effects that often accompany reenactments of this enduring story.

Additional imports from China include Japan’s circle of mythical animals. The nue is a fabulous bird which has been variously described, with one version depicting it with the head of a monkey, the body of a tanuki, the paws of a tiger, and a tail that is a live snake. It was considered the evil spirit responsible for the illness of Emperor Konoe in 1153, and was shot down by the famous archer Minamoto no Yorimasa, then subsequently killed by one of the latter’s retainers. Another composite animal is the kirin, which has the head of a dragon, the body of a deer, scales in place of hair, a strange, ridged breast, the tail of an ox, and the hooves of a goat. Although it runs faster than any other animal, its steps are soundless, and it never leaves any footprints behind. With a single, small horn that is fleshy, not hard, the kirin is regarded as a gentle creature without harmful intent to any living entity.

Such kindness is also a characteristic of the phoenix, the colorful cross between a peacock and a pheasant that was once adopted as the crest of the Japanese empress. The East Asian phoenix, unlike its Egyptian counterpart, is not reborn from its own ashes, but is very rare, appearing only once every thousand years. In 1052, Fujiwara no Yorimichi converted his second home in present-day Uji City, Kyoto, into what is now called the Byodoin temple, today used jointly by the Tendai and Jodo Buddhist sects. One elegant section is the Phoenix Pavilion, structured like a stylized phoenix, with two smaller phoenixes adorning the roof.

A ferocious shishi and he cub stand guard at the er trance to a shrine

Standing at the entrance to many temples and shrine throughout Japan is the shishi, the conceptually misguided Chinese representation of a lion. In Korea the big cat was changed into the “Korean dog,” but arriving in Japan it assumed a dual nature, the Korean dog and the Chinese lion, and some claim that it should technically be called a Buddhist lion. The shishi is distinguished by it large, squarish head, flat, broad nose, bulging eyes, and row of tight curls across its brow. In Buddhism, its primary task is the guardianship of temples and palaces, and, in this capacity, it is posted in pairs at entryways. The female lion often leans her paw on a cub, while the male has an open mouth, frequently holding a ball. The open and closed mouths utter, “a” and “un,” or the beginning and end of all creation, from the Sanskrit equivalent of alpha and omega

The Chinese male principle of the universe is manifest in the dragon, which, as a rain deity associated with cosmic forces, exerts power over rain and storm. In Japanese art, dragons often do not appear fully visible and are usually depicted half-hidden by clouds or turbulent waves. This cautious approach may arise from the belief that mortals cannot gaze upon the entire body of a dragon and remain alive. A close relative of the snake, around which cult worship arose, dragons are described in Japan’s earliest legends, yielding such treasures as “tide-ruling jewels” and a “herb-quelling sword.”

Although animals are often endowed with human characteristics, once in a while the tables are turned. Human beings who behave in a beastly manner can be changed into animals, as in the tale of an evil peasant in old Kyoto. The perpetrator of numerous foul deeds, he was finally transformed into a dog unable to eat, dying a miserable death after one hundred days. The monk Raigo, who lived during the tenth century, on the other hand, is said to have changed because of his inner furies into a monstrous rat which stole into the temple to tear up volumes of precious Buddhist sutras with his sharp, rodentine teeth. And humans can be reborn as serpents bent on revenge against those who wronged them in a former life.

The male shishi also stands guard at the shrine, on the opposite side of the entrance from the female.

Supernatural components also feature in the No plays traditionally enjoyed by the Japanese upper classes. There are ceremonial deities, pathetic warrior ghosts, and elegant female spirits. Kabuki, so enjoyed by the common people, also boasts a colorful repertoire of supernatural beings, especially male ghosts, although some renowned kabuki plays center on vengeful female ghosts. Japanese literature includes classic collections of ghost and monster stories, and, of course, the gods almost always play some part. Periods of sociopolitical turbulence in Japan’s history were often marked by a resurgence of popular interest in the supernatural and the ghostly, perhaps underscoring the uncertainties of life and death during times of bewildering change.

Various manifestations of the supernatural strongly reemerged during Japan’s Heian period (794–1185), as people sought to identify demons of disease and hunger, as well as beings able to transform their shapes and spirits of the dead. Over the next two hundred years, supernatural perceptions broadened to include human ghosts, as well as changeling animals, and during the Muromachi period (1392–1573), inanimate objects, too, were deemed powerful enough to change into living entities. In the Momoyama era (1568–98) and the succeeding Edo era (1600–1867), however, interest in the supernatural significantly heightened, with ghost stories and other paranormal phenomena enthralling audiences. Edo-era artists, especially, were enamored of supernatural themes, creating forceful and detailed woodblock prints, hanging scrolls, and carved netsuke, to portray otherworldly scenes. Japan’s deliberate push for Western-influenced modernization in the Meiji era (1867–1912) did not diminish popular fascination with the supernatural, which increasingly focused on human psychic powers and the strength of links between the living and hidden worlds.

A basis for the prevalence of the supernatural in Japanese culture and mores stems from the creation myth itself. Comparatively simplistic, the story of Japan’s beginnings is chronicled in country’s two earliest written histories, the Kojiki, or Record of Ancient Matters, set down in 712, and the Nihon Shoki, or Chronicle of Japan, compiled in 720. Combinations of legend, fact, and deliberate historical fabrication, these records are attempts to establish Japan’s genealogical lineage and traditions.

Chronicles of the mythological Age of Kami set the Shinto pattern for everyday life and worship. The Kojiki tells of the kami of the Center of Heaven, which appeared first, followed by the kami of birth and growth. But actual creation begins with the brother-sister duo, Izanagi no Mikoto and Izanami no Mikoto, who descend from the High Plain of Heaven and give birth to everything, including other numerous kami and the Great Eight Islands, or Japan. Of the kami the three most important are Amaterasu the Sun Goddess, her obnoxiously behaved brother Susanoo no Mikoto, who governs the earth, and Tsukiyomi, the moon goddess in charge of the realms of darkness. Amaterasu, obviously a shaman warrior of superb magical powers, is the progenitor of Japan’s main ruling families, and it is she who orders her grandson, Ninigi no Mikoto, to become the first actual ruler of Japan. As symbols of divine authority he receives a mirror, a sword, and a necklace of jewels, the three sacred treasures.

Given a historical background steeped in the supernatural, it small wonder that Japanese society offers an intriguing combination of the primitive and the sophisticated, the ancient and the trendy, the mystical and the mundane. This very balancing act epitomizes one dichotomy of Japanese culture itself, a persisting fact which dismays foreigners who wish that Japan would make up its mind over which face to show to the world. In this society of contrasts and contradictions, high technology seems melded with a high sense of supernatural possibilities. The company executive discussing international deals over his cellular telephone may seem up-to-the-minute and firmly grounded in Japan’s technological present. In his inside pocket, however, he may well be carrying a magical charm to ward off bad fortune and evil spirits. The housewife whose home is filled with the latest electronic appliances may yet hang a protective amulet by her doorway to repel unwanted visitors come from the realm of ghosts and demons. Glass-and-steel skyscrapers symbolize Tokyo’s thrust into an aggressively modern age, but from their ancient wooden shrines and temples, Shinto and Buddhist priests are still called upon to purify buildings and exorcise spirits of the restless dead.

As in other cultures, the supernatural in Japan provides a context in which to interpret the phenomenal world. It is both a way to explain the unexplainable and a means to attain deeper insight. As a spiritual quest for mystic seekers, it is a path to transcendence of human frailty and limitations. As folk belief in practice, such as the consecration of a shrine believed to be inhabited by unseen spirits, it is a framework for controlling or transmuting the mysteries of existence. In its present-day guise, it continues to function as a reminder that human beings are more than mere flesh and bones. Rather, humankind is a sentient, spiritual entity inextricably connected to a vast universe of unimaginable subtlety and richness that has yet to yield its secrets. Everywhere around us is magic, and the supernaturally magical event may await just around the next corner.