I am not sure whether this is a genuinely Japanese thing, or if it is something of the Eastern culture in general, but I have to say, there are all sorts of … interesting religious ceremonies around… Yesterday I went to Horin-ji temple in the Arashiyama district of Kyoto, where a memorial service for needles was held, needles as in sewing needles. The ritual appears to date back to the Heian era, even today people bring their used or even broken needles to this temple and pray for better sewing skills and a happy family.
The ceremony took place in the main hall of the temple and started – after four women with colorful dresses and beautiful hair ornaments and a number of priests had entered and seated themselves – with a short performance of traditional music. Then, the head priest who was sitting in front of the altar started reading or rather chanting a long incantation or prayer in a loud voice. When he was finished the other priests placed themselves in front of the altar and, also chanting, threw little oval pieces of paper over their shoulders to the people sitting behind them. The paper was about the size of a palm and had an image of the Buddha on one side; apparently it is a charm and the way it is distributed is meant to resemble falling leaves. Anyway, those leaves were readily snatched up by the worshippers, and the dancers also distributed some. Their big performance was shortly afterwards, when they started dancing a very slow traditional dance to traditional music. When the dance was over – it started and ended with a bow to the altar – more chants were intonated, but all of a sudden and without warning, permission was given to start the actual needle ceremony: A number of large needles with colorful threads had been prepared as well as blocks of what I first thought was wax (it turned out to be much softer, like jelly, but I have no idea what it really was), and people were invited to take one of the needles and stick them into the blocks while saying their prayers. That was the main part of the ceremony, and most of the people left immediately afterwards. They did not hear the final piece of music or saw the women and priests clean up and leave. They also did not notice when two of the dancers returned to do their own needle ceremony. Once again, I found this very strange, but then again, the whole idea of a service for needles is a bit … special, isn’t it?
Yesterday was full moon, and this particular one on August 15th in the lunar calendar, the harvest full moon, is said to be the brightest and most beautiful of them all, and this fact drives many Japanese out to moon viewing parties. There were numerous yugoya events throughout Kyoto last night, some of them with green tea being offered, koto-recitals, or similar. However, we chose to go to Daikakuji and its pond as it is considered the best spot for yugoya. The area around the temple is still rather rural – I walked through rice fields on my way there – and the city forbids development, so the nights are dark and quiet, just perfect for moon viewing.
Daikakuji is one of the big Buddhist temples in Arashiyama, the westernmost part of Kyoto. It was built as detached palace for emperor Saga, and in 876 he designated it to be converted into a Shingon Buddhist temple. The origin as palace is still palpable throughout the compound: beautiful gardens lie between spacious buildings which are lavishly decorated and have amazing paintings on their sliding doors. A large part of the buildings can be visited, and yesterday at dusk, especially the old gardens made a deep impression on me. Then there is Osawa, a large lotus pond, next to the temple, which was specially laid out to resemble lake Tungting in China.
And this pond is what draws people to Daikakuji for the yugoya: Large boats cruise the pond, quietly pushed with bamboo poles, and a ride on one of those, away from the noisy people on shore, with lots of time to contemplate the moon, must indeed be quite an experience. Unfortunately, an experience we were not able to make, because by the time we arrived at the temple, all boats were sold out already.
Anyway, we took our time to see the palace/temple and at 6:30 a ceremony started with a long procession of priests taking their place on a platform prepared in the lake, the altar in the direction of the full moon, which had already risen by that time, and did look very beautiful indeed on the cloudless sky. It was an interesting mix of Shinto and Buddhist rites, with shrine maidens and Buddhist priests, something I have never encountered before. There were drums and cymbals, and the ceremony ended with a reading (or rather: chanting) from one of the Buddhist main texts.
Afterwards, we turned our attention to the food stalls on the shore: Takoyaki, udon and soba, traditional Kyoto style mochi called yatsuhashi and slightly modernized ones with strawberry filling, beer, soft drinks and shaved ice… But of course, special days call for special treats. For example, there are round white mochi with a strip of anko – red bean paste – across them, meant to resemble the moon behind a cloud. More appealing to me, however – remember that I don’t really like anko – were the little sweets in shape of white rabbits. Rabbits? Well, according to Asian tradition, there is a rabbit living in the moon…
Today was the ninth day of the ninth month, an auspicious day in Shinto religion (the last uneven month of the year – only single digits count I guess?) and once again, this called for a purification rite. Today, at Kamigamo shrine there was first a ceremonial offering of flowers – chrysanthemums – and, following that, entertainment for the gods: sumo wrestling.
The ceremony started at 10 am with the wrestlers – 18 boys – purifying themselves in one of the rivers of Kamigamo shrine. They all wore the traditional fundoshi loincloth and only a thin jacket, I’m sure they must have been cold even though the weather was nice. Then some more purification rites took place, with elaborate bowing to the river and waving of the white paper; but one of them involved a number of small arrows of maybe 30 cm length – that was certainly a new one for me. The offering of the chrysanthemums took place at the main hall of the shrine, but I did not dare to give up my front row spot for the sumo, so I cannot report any details on that.
Anyway, at some point the party returned and joined the spectators. A woman and two children, dressed in Heian style kimono (12 layers, remember) and some shinto priests seated themselves inside a wooden hall. Before it, a sumo ring had been installed, and the boys, divided into two groups, were seated to the left and right of it, or as it’s called in Japan to the East and West. Then the ring itself was purified by shinto priests, one from each side. Both drew a figure eight into the ring and walked along it. I am very curious what the reason for this is, but I could not find out. Then, after some offerings for the gods and each group stepping into the ring, bowing to the main guests in the hall and performing more rituals, the sumo bouts started.There were four rounds of bouts. The first one the boys from the East and West competed against each other according to their rank, from the lowest rank to the highest. The other three rounds were different, here the winner of the bout could stay in the ring to meet his next opponent. It was very exciting to watch, I did not expect that. The boys were so serious about winning, and still they had so much obvious fun, it was exhilarating. It was almost like watching adult sumo, albeit with slight modifications and minor lapses of protocol, but the bouts themselves were just as exciting as with the big boys. Some of the bouts were over pretty quickly, while others, especially with the boys of higher rank, took some time and you could see some quite nice techniques at work.
After the sumo wrestling was over, a small cup of chrysanthemum sake was offered to all spectators. It was considered to be free of charge, but most people made a small donation anyway. I did not notice anything particularly flowery about the sake, but I am not an expert.And then, everything was over. I always find it interesting how quickly even the biggest crowds disperse in Japan. It seems that hanging around and staying for an extra chat is not something the Japanese are used to – well, not if even a restaurant visit is politely finished after two hours… This time it addionally surprised me that after the whole ceremonial beginnings and purifications and everything the whole thing ended rather unspectacularly – with a simple group photo…
As mentioned before, this week marked Obon, the Festival of the Dead in Japan. It is an ancient Buddhist ritual to worship the family ancestors who are said to return from the afterlife to visit their decendants. Traditionally, Obon was celebrated around the 15th day of the seventh month in the lunar calender (and is still in the southern parts of Japan like Okinawa for example) but with the switch from the lunar to the Gregorian calender, things became more complicated. Today, Obon is celebrated around 15th of August almost everywhere in Japan, but in the Kanto region around Tokyo and in Tohoku it happens one month before that. The three days of Obon are not national holidays, but many people are given leave anyway, especially small family run businesses are closed.
The rituals performed during Obon vary greatly depending on the local customs, but as I mentioned yesterday, many of them involve fire and light. I am sure there are special rituals performed at home as well, at each family’s ancestral shrine, but unfortunately I am not privy to any details here.
One thing that is done everywhere though are Bon Odori or Obon dance performances to entertain the dead – and the living as well. I went to the one at Enma-do temple in Kyoto last Wednesday night. There were about 20 performers, all dressed in same yukata and turquoise socks, and I was surprised to see both children and women among them (as women often have no place in religious ceremonies). In the beginning were musical pieces with flutes and small (taiko) drums.
Then followed the dances, accompanied by music and sometimes a sung story. I am not entirely sure, but the two guys below dressed as women (do you notice their hair-ornaments?) performed a rather comical piece; and the two girls were meant to conjure images of the Maiko of Gion with their long sleeved kimono.
The highlight however, was the lion’s dance: It told (all without words) the story of a lion, living peacefully in the forest – performing acrobatic feats so as to not get bored – until a “great” warrior came along and killed the poor beast. As you can see, I was rooting for the lion all the way!
As I have mentioned on Monday, from August 14th through 16th the Festival of the Dead, or Obon, is celebrated in the Kansai region of Japan. The idea is that the ancestors of each family come back from the realm of the Dead to visit their offspring, are worshipped and treated to some goodies, and then are sent off again.
How this is celebrated depends on the region, but very often it has something to do with fire and light to guard the spirits. For example, I have seen in a comparatively small town in Nagano province, where many people own a house with garden, that during Obon small fires are lit at the entrance of each house so the spirits can find their way home easily. Here in Kyoto, at the Higashi Otani Cemetery for example, lamps with real candles are lit at the huge graveyard, and people can come and worship their ancestors during the early evening, bringing flowers and little offerings – I have even seen a cup of sake here and there.
The important part of Obon however, is to make sure that the ghosts don’t linger for too long. They are sent off – once more with fire and lights – on August 16th. Again, the ceremony depends on the region. Where there is a prominent river or lake or maybe even the sea, little paper lanterns are inscribed with the name of the dead person and then set afloat on the water, so the spirit goes, accompanied by the light of the candle, home to the ocean.
One of the most spectacular ways of sending off the spirits is happening in Kyoto (where else). It is called the Gosan-no-Okuribi (literally the Five Mountains Send Off Fire) or more simply the Daimonji. Kyoto has mountains on three of its sides, and on the flanks of the northern ones (counterclockwise from east to west) five huge bonfires are lit at 8 pm on August 16th. Each bonfire has a specific shape: The first one (the daimonji) is the kanji for “big”, the second one (myo and ho) the kanji for the Buddhist concept of “dharma”. The third one (funagata) has the shape of a boat the souls can ride in, the fourth one is another “big” kanji (called the left one to distinguish it from the first), and the last one is in the shape of a shrine gate or “torii”. The fires are lit at intervals of 5 to 10 minutes and only last for about 20 minutes, to keep it sweet and short.
The worshipping of the ancestors at the cemetery, including light and fire rituals of one sort or the other, is done all over Japan, and of course it is necessary to travel home for that. Hence, although Obon is not a national holiday, many small and family run businesses close and allow their employees a few days to go home. This makes travelling during Obon very stressful, as there are so many people abroad, but interestingly, it is relatively easy to find a hotel (unless you insist on something small and family-owned) – clearly everybody stays with family.
I will write a bit more about Obon in my post tomorrow.
Last Wednesday the last main event of Gion matsuri took place – the Kanko Sai festival, where the three mikoshi were taken from their temporary display on the Otabisho, carried on different routes through the inner city, and then returned to Yasaka shrine.
The parade started at 5 pm at the Otabisho. All of the things that can be seen in the picture of Wednesday’s post were removed and the mikoshi stood there for easy removal. The first one to be removed was the centre one. First there was a blessing of both the mikoshi and its bearers in front of the shrine to the right of the Otabisho. The mikoshi was then fixed to two long wooden beams and, amid shouts and clapping, was carried through the narrow streets of the inner city.
Blessing the mikoshi - note the knots!
The same was done with the other mikoshi, first the “west” one, and finally the “east” one. One of them was carried through the narrow streets of Teramachi, and then through Nishiki food market, and I am still amazed how its bearers could manage to make the very narrow 90 degree turn between the two streets… Each mikoshi was accompanied by a person on a horse – the centre one by the chigo, by the way – and finally, around 9 pm, the individual parades turned towards Yasaka shrine, lead by a procession that carried all the things that were removed from the shrine to accompany the gods in the first place.
mikoshi carried through teramachi
Once again, the bearers of the mikoshi showed off their strength by turning it around on its long wooden beams whenever possible, always accompanied by a rhythmic shouting of “hoi-tto”, “hoi-sso” or “ri-ssa”, and at Yasaka shrine itself each mikoshi was carried three times around the centre stage before it was placed in there again. The men carrying the mikoshi must have been exhausted at the end, but there was a certain excitement that went through them and the spectators, although I have seen a few with blood stains on their shoulders…
Mikoshi arrives back at Yasaka shrine
All of this took a very long time, partly also because of the fastening and unfastening of the heavy ropes that were used to tie the mikoshi to several wooden beams. Finally, around 11:30, all mikoshi had been placed again on the stage at the centre of Yasaka shrine. Then, all the lights were turned off and only the moon lit the final, most important scene: the return of the gods to the main shrine. A path was made with sacred rope between the centre stage and the main shrine building. Accompanied by music and hidden from view by screens, two priests went from the main shrine to the centre stage and at each mikoshi in turn either perfomed a rite or actually removed something they then brought back to the main building to enshrine there again.
Except for the music, it was quiet, the hundreds of remaining spectators were completely still, many of them had folded their hands in prayer. A palpable relief went through the crowd when the gods were returned to their proper home and the lights were turned on again. Many people then went to the shrine and offered a quick prayer. The scene was strangely touching, even though I am not religious.
It was midnight by then and I had to walk home. About 5 minutes after the gods had returned home, it started to rain. Well, the main part of Gion matsuri was over anyway.
Last Wednesday, July 17th, the festivities of Gion matsuri reached their peak. In the morning, there was the Yama Hoko Junko parade through the inner city, and in the early evening the three deities of Yasaka shrine were moved to their temporary residence at the Otabisho.
The procession in the morning was beautiful. In total, there are 32 floats, nine of them called hoko and the others yama. Both types date back to the 17th century or earlier, their wooden base is constructed without any nails or screws, only heavy ropes are used to tie the timber together. They are finally draped with tapestries – replicas of the real ones by now of course – which have been imported from as far off countries as the Netherlands, and thus sometimes depict strangely un-Asian scenes like camels, lions, or the departure of Ulysses from his wife. The originals are exhibited in the respective community houses during yoiyama, from July 14th – 16th and can be visited together with the more or less finished versions of the floats. Constructing a float – even the big hoko – takes only about two days, and this takes place from July 10th – 14th, after the Mikoshi Arai purification rite.
owl tapestry and ropes for pulling a hoko
Anyway, back to the two types of floats: A yama is essentially an elevated platform on wheels, maybe four metres high. It is covered with tapestries and shows a well known scene from myth or real history on the platform. The almost life-sized wooden figures used for that are also exhibited during yoiyama, in fact, they are often placed at the centre of an altar and I have seen people placing offers in front of them and praying to them before they are moved onto the platforms. I am not entirely sure, but it seems that the figures used are really the originals, different than the tapestries.
ashikari yama with lion tapestry in front
The second type of floats are the hoko. They are enormous things resembling mobile war towers, on man sized wheels, with a roofed platform on which musicians (drums, flutes, bells…) sit and play throughout the procession. On the roof sits a long wooden pole, making the hoko up to 25 metres high in total, and the pole is decorated with straw and paper in the lower part and bears a special type of tip which gives the hoko its name. A hoko can weigh more than ten tons and it is pulled by 40 – 50 men with two thick ropes fastened to the front. Some of the hoko carry wooden images together with the musicians, and all of them are hung with beautiful tapestries.
The procession starts at 9 am, goes along three main streets of the city centre, and has to make three 90 degree turns on the way. I was at the intersection where the first turn would take place at about 8 am, and luckily enough I could still find a spot in the front row – it was surprisingly crowded all the way. Police lined the already empty streets and and many of the shops in this otherwise busy shopping arcade were closed. The people waited patiently, until, as final act before the procession, the overhead traffic lights and signs were folded away. Soon after, you could hear the tune of the musicians, and the very first hoko came down Shijo dori and reached the intersection.
naginata hoko - and official photographers
The procession is always headed by the naginata hoko, which has a Japanese halberd, a naginata, on top of its pole. It is the one that has the chigo on board, a child performing rituals from the hoko, to drive evil spirits away. He is chosen among the 10 year old boys of Kyoto’s best families and wears heavy white makeup, golden headgear, and an orange robe with long sleeves.
chigo on naginata hoko
Recall that a hoko is a 10 ton affair pulled by 50 men. They can only go straight and cannot be steered. So, any large change of direction – as the 90 degrees necessary at any of the three curves of the route – is an interesting spectacle. First, the hoko’s front wheels are placed on bamboo poles, slit in half lengthwise, while the back wheels are held in place by large woodblocks. The men standing in the lower part of the hoko, close to the wheels, shout their commands, wave their fans, and then the hoko is pulled to the side in a swift effort. One hoko was turned with only two strong pulls, the others needed more, so the whole operation can take a while. In any case it was very exciting to watch every time, and the musicians on top never ceased to play or even missed a tone.
turning the kikusui hoko
Turning a yama is less of an issue as they can be simply lifted off the ground, although some groups made an effort to show off their strength and made one, even two full turns with the yama – to the great satisfaction of the spectators!
After the naginata hoko come all the others in random order as drawn by lot on July 2nd. The whole procession of all 32 floats takes about three hours to pass any one point. There are many breaks in between though, clearly because of the time the turning of the hoko takes, which cannot be predicted. All in all I found the procession very interesting, but also very tiring, especially as my front row spot meant I had to sit on the hard street with folded knees all the time. I now understand why people bring little folding stools with them – even those who accompany the hoko on foot take a break to sit down during the turning.
In the evening, the second part of the festivities take place. All three mikoshi of Yasaka shrine – and with them their deities – are moved to their temporary residence at the Otabisho, located at the intersection of Shijo and Teramachi. Once again, young men dressed in white carry the mikoshi through the streets of Kyoto to their destination. There are three routes through town, and the atmosphere is light again, with lots of encouraging shouting by the carriers and spectators as well.
Blessing the Mikoshi before their departure from Yasaka Shrine
Gion matsuri is one of the three greatest local festivals in Japan, together with the Kanda matsuri in Tokyo and the Tenjin matsuri in Osaka, but it is said to be the largest and gayest of the three. It is also one of the three most important ones in Kyoto, together with the Aoi matsuri and the Jidai matsuri. It starts on July 1st and ends on July 31st, and there are many different events taking place throughout the month and throughout the neighborhood of Gion and the inner city. The two most important events take place on July 10th and 17th.
Gion matsuri is the festival associated with Gion shrine, the old name of Yasaka shrine. It started in 869, when the country was stricken with a plague and the emperor dispatched his messenger to Gion shrine for pray for the end of the plague. The brother of the sun goddess is inshrined at Yasaka, and in order to relieve the sick, his spirit was carried, in little portable shrines, through Kyoto. As this proved successful to end the plague, this ritual is still performed today.
July 10th is the day of Mikoshi Arai Purification, a purification rite in which the Mikoshi, a small portable shrine in which the principle deity will be transported, is taken to the river and cleansed with water from the Kamo. The preparations are extensive, and the whole ceremony takes several hours.
First there is the Omukae Chochin, a procession of children dressed in various costumes and accompanying adults with lanterns and musicians playing flutes and drums, which leaves Yasaka shrine at 4:30 pm. They welcome the other procession of the Mikoshi later on.
After a break, at 7 pm, a second procession leaves the shrine, goes to the river, and then returns to the shrine again. It consists of young men dressed in traditional white clothes, Happi, carrying an enormous torch with them, the fire and smoke of which is meant to cleanse the path for the Mikoshi.
This portable shrine, fastened onto long, heavy wooden beams is carried on the shoulders of the same young men to the river in the final and largest procession of the day. Two or three of the same massive torches as before are carried in front and at the end of the procession, in the middle of which is the Mikoshi. Here, the men are shouting, rhythmically encouraging each other to greater efforts. At times they stop and the men carrying the Mikoshi start jumping up and down, rocking the little shrine, and then, as a final move they lift it up high over their heads.
When they – now merged with the childrens’ procession of the afternoon – arrive back at the shrine, the Mikoshi, after circling the centre stage and being lifted and rocked one last time, is then placed onto the platform of the stage at the centre of the shrine and covered again with gold cloth, metal mirrors, and red rope.
Meanwhile, there are dances performed by the four groups of children that walked in the afternoon procession. In the picture below, the little ones with the red wigs are between three and five years old, and the boys dressed as swans are six. The whole ceremony was finished and the Mikoshi redressed in its usual golden splendor at around 10 pm. Once again I am sorry that I neither understand the details of the ceremony, nor the significance of the costumes or the dances. But then again, I wonder how many of the Japanese spectators do.
Yesterday was the seventh day of the seventh month, which is the day when the Tanabata festival takes place. The legend tells of two lovers, Orihime (represented by Vega) and Hikoboshi (Altair), who have to live all year separated by the Milky Way, and are only allowed to meet for one single night – on the seventh day of the seventh month. A very touching story indeed… The date of course refers to the lunar calender, and in some places (Sendai for example), it is still celebrated then. It seems to be a very local festival, with varying types of celebrations, often even depending on the participating shrine. A fixed part of the festivities everywhere is to write a wish onto a piece of paper and tie it to one of the bamboo trees that are set up at shrines, and pray to the gods for the fulfillment of the wishes. Never short of things I want, I went to Shiramine shrine, because the ceremony there has an extra feature…
It was an especially nice ceremony indeed. It was performed by three Shinto priests of different ranks, with incantations in front of the shrine in the beginning. Then, at the raised platform in the center of the precincts, a quartet of musicians (one koto and three types of wind instruments I couldn’t quite make out) began to play a tune that can be described as … odd, at least to Western ears. They accompanied a group of four shrine maidens, elaborately dressed, with fans and headgear, who performed a dance in honour of the deity. I am quite sure every single movement had a specific meaning, but of course, it was completely lost on me.
After the dance, the ceremony continued and once again, a small number of (most certainly paying) participants could take part in the ritual offering of paper and green branches to the deity. Some more chanting concluded the ceremony.
The interesting bit here was a person with a microphone telling the spectators – and also the participants – what would happen next, when they had to stand, bow, and were allowed to sit again. It reminded me very much of the priests in our churches who, at weddings, funerals and the like, have to guide their hapless sheep in a quite similar manner…
Anyway, at the end of the ceremony, the fun feature began. Shiramine is the shrine where people go to pray for luck – in various ball games, especially soccer. Usually, a shrine receives offerings for the gods to grant a wish and when they have done so. And here, there are many footballs of all sizes offered, often with a note or signature written on them, and they are displayed. It gives the shrine an appearance very different from all the others with their large stacks of sake barrels!
So, the fun feature at Shiramine shrine every year at the Tanabata festival is the playing of the ball game called Kemari, where eight players, men and women, wonderfully dressed in old court costumes and black leather shoes, play kick up with a white ball made from deer skin, which had just been blessed in the preceding ceremony. It was very hot and humid yesterday, and the players’ clothing with its several layers and endless sleeves and hakama must have been incredibly hot indeed, but the obvious and genuine fun the players had in the game made it extra fun to watch too. When the game was over, some of the spectators were invited to try kick ups as well, which I thought was a very nice move.
I went home then, bought some sweet bread and a chocolate milk and took a break on a shadowy bench at the river. It was a wonderful day.
Yesterday was June 30th – the last day of the first half of the year. In Japan, this is the day of Nagoshi no Harae – an ancient Shinto purification rite. At the shrines where this ritual is performed, a very large wreath made of miscanthus reed and paper strips is set up at a gate or torii. The idea is that people walk through it and thus purify themselves of the sins of the first half year. Additionally, small paper dolls can be handed out, something is written on them (not sure what, either the name of the person or the defilement they want to get rid of) and then they are thrown into a pond or a river to wash away and with it the sins of the person. Some people pick out strands of the reed from the large wreath, make a smaller one from it and hang it over their entrance door in order to protect the house from misfortune.
Well, nothing better than to have a fresh start every now and then I thought and made my way to Heian shrine where the ceremony started at 4 pm. The wreath was set up at the entrance, and there were many people walking through it, essentially in an “eight” shaped pattern. It’s a pity I couldn’t read the instructions next to the wreath, so only when it was too late I found out I did only half of the pattern. If that took care of half of my sins only, it’s a start 😉
Anyway, there was a spot set apart with curtains for people to take part in the larger ceremony. They were given some small paper dolls to write upon and handed them back to the shrine maidens, together with an envelope containing money. Then they could enter the enclosure and waited patiently. At 4 pm sharp, a group of Shinto priests started from one of the buildings, left the shrine through a side exit and entered it again through the wreath. When they arrived at the fenced off area, the ceremony began with individual bowing – strictly by order of rank, of course – to a small altar, then the main priest began chanting. The other participants were invited to step forward to the altar, and they seemed to be throwing small pieces of paper over their shoulders (or possibly at the altar, I was too far away to know for sure). When all the participants were finished, the chanting stopped. The main priest stepped forward, also threw some paper over his shoulder, then tore up several large, long pieces of white paper in swift movements. After that, he swung a branch with green leaves over his head once for each cardinal direction. And that was the main public ceremony. After that, all the priests went to the main shrine building, followed by the other paying participants. I did not want to follow, so I cannot say what they did there, but it seemed that the further ceremony was private anyway. I do know however, that behind the main shrine building there is a garden with a large pond, so maybe the paper dolls were drowned there?
Once again, I found it an interesting experience, but unfortunately I could not understand exactly what was going on. It would be interesting to participate in such a ceremony, but I will have to wait for my Japanese to drastically improve, because I wouldn’t want to make a fool of myself. I don’t think being a foreigner would be much of an issue in that case, as I mentioned before the Japanese are quite inclusive when it comes to religion. Maybe in a few years…
When the dance was over – it started and ended with a bow to the altar – more chants were intonated, but all of a sudden and without warning, permission was given to start the actual needle ceremony: A number of large needles with colorful threads had been prepared as well as blocks of what I first thought was wax (it turned out to be much softer, like jelly, but I have no idea what it really was), and people were invited to take one of the needles and stick them into the blocks while saying their prayers. 
That was the main part of the ceremony, and most of the people left immediately afterwards. They did not hear the final piece of music or saw the women and priests clean up and leave. They also did not notice when two of the dancers returned to do their own needle ceremony. Once again, I found this very strange, but then again, the whole idea of a service for needles is a bit … special, isn’t it?
