I first learned about the microseasons during my second year in Japan when I was wandering thru Tokyo one day in February, and had an experience that introduced me to the bush warblers singing microseason.
I was looking for this bookshop owned by an older woman named yumi, who supposedly had a collection of ancient poems and stories, many of which encompassed the lore of the 72 kō (I never did end up finding it, sadly I had to leave Tokyo the next day, but would be nice to know if someone here has heard of it / visited).
while weaving through the backstreets of shibuya, i was entranced by a faint, melodious chirping that seemed out of place amidst the city's usual cacophony.
Following the sound, i found myself before this dilapidated, ivy-covered wooden house. A hand-painted sign hung at the entrance. "Oshiro's birds" I think it said
Anyway Oshiro was sitting outside and graciously welcomed me in. His living room was packed with birdcages, borderline horder situation. but everything was in beautiful condition, meticulously cleaned. Each cage was home to a bush warbler. the air was filled with their songs, transporting me miles away from the city, to misty mountains and serene valleys.
Oshiro explained the Japanese microseasons to me, and told me about a centuries-old family tradition that centered one in particular. every year, around the onset of february, when the microseason announced the singing of bush warblers, he would embark on a pilgrimage into the mountains. there, he would sit for hours, sometimes days, listening, absorbing, and sometimes even conversing with these birds through his bamboo flute. It was a ritual passed down through generations in his family.
I spent that afternoon with Oshiro, sipping on aged sake, as he told me about his strange (to me) ritual. He played his flute a bit, its notes intertwining with the bird songs, creating a symphony that felt as old as the mountains themselves. Each chirp, each note, was a story, a memory of ages gone by.
as the sun set, casting a golden hue on the room, i realized i hadn’t just discovered a bird enthusiast. in Oshiro, i had met a guardian of time, a man who, year after year, preserved a slice of japan's essence, ensuring that even in the heart of its busiest city, the song of the bush warbler would never fade away.
It is pretty beautiful how such small, centuries-old traditions seem to abound in Japan, where the condition of the west seems to be a state of persistent impermanence.
> It is pretty beautiful how such small, centuries-old traditions seem to abound in Japan, where the condition of the west seems to be a state of persistent impermanence.
You own traditions often seem trivial and normal compared to foreign ones. Especially so anglosaxon ones because of all the popculture and merchandise. But they are just as bizzare and ingrained in culture when you look at them from a different POV.
I'm from a western Slavic country - not that much different from western Europe. Yet Haloween, "telling the bees" or even baby gender reveal parties seem completely alien to me.
On the other hand we have a barely christianized fertility ritual during which boys sprinkle girls with water :)
This is an extraordinarily recent phenomenon. There's probably no one who will read this thread who's gender was revealed at one of those parties. The oldest people who had their gender revealed at a party will be able to get their driver's license next year.
Across cultures, I don't think we value celebration enough. I wish we didn't have to rely on traditions, new and old to have structured parties. But if it takes a gender reveal or a fertility ritual to get people to come together and have fun, great. You don't even have to explain to me why.
> It is pretty beautiful how such small, centuries-old traditions seem to abound in Japan, where the condition of the west seems to be a state of persistent impermanence.
Japan is a monoethnic nation. Much of the West isn't anymore for various reasons, to the degree where people engaging in "centuries-old traditions" are seen as weird or even racist.
And in a different tack, there is the fascinating concept of "change merchants"[0] that may help better understand why everything seems to be swirling around so quickly.
That is an uncomfortable conversation because it’s not true but they pretend it is. Especially on the more peripheral islands. Okinawa, Hokkaido.
It’s a hilly archipelago nation. There are many traditions specific to one island and not held in common culturally with the rest of the Nihonjin.
On the other hand, because their culture is “taller” instead of broad, I see many ways in which particular arts and crafts have a depth that European trade and craft cultures rival, but do not exceed. Calligraphy is just bonkers. Especially if you include the toolmaking.
> That is an uncomfortable conversation because it’s not true but they pretend it is.
Of course, every group of humans is further divisible into smaller groups, so no group larger than the individual is a true mono-anything. But when the great majority of those within and without Japan agree that for all practical purposes Japan is occupied by the Japanese, I'm OK rolling with it.
The same cannot be said of e.g. France, the US, or Brazil. America especially enjoys the phenomenon of the hyphenated-American.
> every group of humans is further divisible into smaller groups
Indeed, the Ryukyuans were divided into a whole kingdom with its own head of state and foreign policy, which didn’t become “part of Japan” until the late 19th century. Hokkaido was “acquired” in the 1860s, along with its indigenous people. The dates and situations closely parallel Hawaii and Alaska. To say that they are Japanese because the Japanese government decided so is to ignore historical facts in favor of ideology.
The Ainu are distinctly not “Japanese” genetically. It’s at least the difference say (pulling this out of my ass, may be better examples) between Germanic and Celtic peoples in Europe. Only they were too evenly matched geopolitically and so one never managed to erase the other. Roma and Hebrews on the other hand… probably more like the Ainu than not.
I am aware of the Ainu, though I'm certainly not an expert on the topic. Wikipedia suggests that there may be 25k to 200k Ainu people in Japan, which would be 0.02% to 0.16% of the population; and supposedly the language is nearly extinct. So my point about Japan being monoethnic "for all practical purposes" still stands, as Ainu culture is not widespread enough to make a difference.
I suspect the broader point you're trying to make is that the concept of Japan (or any other country) as a monoethnic country is in many ways manufactured by politicians and other powerful interests over time; and in many cases literally manufactured by genocide. And I grant you that's entirely true, potentially in every single "monoethnic" country. But, manufactured or not, there is a tangible difference.
I myself grew up in a monoethnic country, with the presence of a unifying cultural common ground; for example, I could rely upon the fact that a popular television show was being watched by nearly everyone in the country, even in the remote corners. And that's just one minor example of what adds up to the sense that yes, this stranger next to me has had a similar life to me, at least in what we were taught in school, the media we consumed, the food we grew up eating, the behavioral customs we expect of each other, and so on.
The absence of this unifying cultural common ground is the characteristic of a polyethnic country.
> that there may be 25k to 200k Ainu people in Japan
My point is that the Ainu people were... not consulted on whether that is a good number to have or not. You're seeing effect, not cause. To put it very, very delicately.
> I myself grew up in a monoethnic country, with the presence of a unifying cultural common ground; for example, I could rely upon the fact that a popular television show was being watched by nearly everyone in the country, even in the remote corners. And that's just one minor example of what adds up to the sense that yes, this stranger next to me has had a similar life to me, at least in what we were taught in school, the media we consumed, the food we grew up eating, the behavioral customs we expect of each other, and so on.
This description of poly-ethnicity applies to Japan more than I think you realize.
Food in the southern prefectures is pretty different from food in the northern prefectures. Particularly Hokkaido and Okinawa have very different food cultures than a lot of places on Honshu. Likewise the architecture and structure of towns, cities, etc varies pretty significantly. Okinawa is practically a concrete jungle and Hokkaido has a lot of red brick buildings that wouldn't be out of place in Russia or Europe. Cities in both prefectures are much more car centric than in cities of comparable densities in the other prefectures.
Even just on Honshu you have things like which side of the road/sidewalk you walk on or which side is the up vs down stairs being different by which prefecture you are in. Likewise, there are pretty significant differences in cultural customs and dialects between prefectures. A word or phrase will have a fairly substantial weight behind it in one prefecture but simply be light/playful in another, or vice versa.
But then the media being largely the same regardless of where you are in the country is pretty similar to the US.
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Point being that there is a lot of cultural variance in Japan that gets reduced to a perception of a monolithic culture even within the regions that are predominantly composed of Yamato Japanese people.
But when you start looking at regions like Okinawa, Hokkaido, Kagoshima, or the Izu-Ogasawara islands, you realize that they have far too different of cultures to be assumed to be minor variations of one mono-ethnic culture.
Shibuya itself has been totally ripped up and reconstructed over the past few years, and people are tripping over themselves to appeal to western sensibilities as much as possible. Please stop with the orientalist hyperbole
The US and Europe have historical preservation societies. Some people like it, some are satisfied by it, some go farther afield. I don’t think it’s “orientalist” necessarily to be interested in historical preservation of other cultures.
Is an interest [in] eastern philosophy orientalism?
I once heard it described that Shintoism is the undercurrent in Japanese society and industry in the same way that Calvinism is the undercurrent in America. Few practice it but everyone knows it subconsciously. There are a couple of famous books that look at Zen through the lens of arts like garden design or archery. I see a similar pattern in Chinese crafts and martial arts, vis a vis daoism, Confucianism, or ch’an (zen).
I’m sure someone not steeped in Christianity would see the same thing in our culture. But it’s like asking a fish to describe water.
In one of your previous comments you wrote: I've lived in Japan for many years and its essentially a western nation with a stronger social conformity / shame culture.
I have also lived in Japan and I don't know how you could believe that is true. Westerners usually experience culture shock when visiting Japan.
> in Oshiro, i had met a guardian of time, a man who, year after year, preserved a slice of japan's essence, ensuring that even in the heart of its busiest city, the song of the bush warbler would never fade away.
There was a lump in my throat as I read your comment out loud to my wife. Thank you for sharing this beautiful vignette!
> It is pretty beautiful how such small, centuries-old traditions seem to abound in Japan, where the condition of the west seems to be a state of persistent impermanence.
Orientalism at its finest...
First of all, "the west" is not a single monolithic block, but dozens of countries, each one with its own peculiarities.
Second, Western countries also have plenty of traditions, in the case of Europe going back centuries or even millennia. The thing is that the environment you grew up in doesn't seem fancy to you, it is just normal life.
Third, some Japanese people care about traditions, some do not, same as Western people. Heck, to me it seems like Japan lives in a state of permanent consumerism, always catching the latest popular anime or idol group.
Consumerism in Japan is absolutely wild. Still a bit of a culture shock for me. In the city I lived in Canada you had to go out of your way to shop. Here in Tokyo, it feels like every station has 10 malls literally right next to each other selling every variation of things you want. I'm bombarded by ads everywhere, I actively try to avoid areas like Shibuya and Ginza since it's just a consumerist hellscape. It must be incredible if you love shopping though.
You try carrying your bags miles from a suburban mall to the nearest train station or bus shop in a typical American city, and you'll quickly understand why Japanese train stations are hubs of economic activity...
Obviously, any dense enough city is quite different from American suburbs. Heck, I am from a 100k city in Spain, a country where even tiny villages are quite dense and you can find shops everywhere, and I am shocked that in rural Japan where I live now it is American-style urban sprawl and you need the car for everything.
In any case, my original comment about consumerism was about the constant barrage of new products that you see here. Go to your nearest konbini and there is always some ad about some new product, any popular enough manganime will trigger a deluge of merchandise, you have the million gachapon with the most ridiculous shit... I hope you get my point.
I know this is kind of silly, but it annoys me a bit to see this portrayed as some creative innovation of the Japanese on top of some ancient Chinese system, when it's really just a simplification of the Confucian text Yue Ling: https://ctext.org/liji/yue-ling
The Yue Ling is a beautiful text, and it speaks to an aspect of Confucianism which I find fascinating, which is the idea that the ideal scholar-official should have a deep understanding of both climate and ecology. It's also fascinating how Japan imported and creatively re-interpreted this text, but it's originally of Chinese creation.
The names were also originally taken from China, but they did not always match up well with the local climate.
In Japan, they were eventually rewritten in 1685 by the court astronomer Shibukawa Shunkai. In their present form, they offer a poetic journey through the Japanese year in which the land awakens and blooms with life and activity before returning to slumber
Although the origins of the text matter for presentation, my only thought when reading this text was "man, I wish my flavor of European culture had this as well and I wish it were taught in school at some point".
It may not have exactly this, but it probably has more than you realize. The rush of the 20th and 21st century has crowded out a lot of stuff. The western world has a rich poetry and literature tradition. Given how severed we are from all of it nowadays you may well find you still get that foreign culture frisson from digging into it.
The Japanese version looks quite a bit more grounded in naturalism than the Chinese version, or at least TFA's translation does (i.e. August 28–September 1 天地始粛 vs 天地始肅 [1]). "Heat starts to die down" is not exactly precise but better than "Heaven and Earth begin to Withdraw" and "Cotton flowers bloom" is definitely a lot better than "Eagles worship the Birds".
I'm not the GP but I definitely want a calendar made up of details like this, regardless of it's literary quality.
Chinese and Japanese's version are the same (in this case). Just different translation.
Actually, neither "Heat starts to die down" nor "Heaven and Earth begin to Withdraw" is a good interpretation of 天地始肅.
"Heaven and Earth begin to Withdraw" is a very literal translation. In this case, 天地 = everything = everthing growing from the ground, so 天地始肅 means plants are no longer sprouting.
"Heat starts to die down" is not a translation. Just a convenient English paraphrase.
> Originally taken from Chinese sources, these are still well-known around East Asia.
> The names were also originally taken from China, but they did not always match up well with the local climate. In Japan, they were eventually rewritten in 1685 by the court astronomer Shibukawa Shunkai.
Japan did import A LOT of cultural things from the ancient Huaxia civilization (which makes sense, as they were pretty close geographically), and they're usually pretty clear about that.
I do think it would be hard to trace back to the first person who discovered "seasons" though...
It is interesting to compare the Japanese micro seasons with the 12 month names in the French Republican calendar [1]. The French month names derived from Latin or Greek words, translated here to English.
Autumn: Vendémiaire (vintage), Brumaire (winter cold), and Frimaire (frost)
Winter: Nivôse (snowy), Pluviôse (rainy), and Ventôse (windy)
Spring: Germinal (germination), Floréal (flower), and Prairial (meadow)
Summer: Messidor (harvest), Thermidor (summer heat), and Fructidor (fruit)
In Britain, a contemporary wit mocked the Republican Calendar by calling the months: Wheezy, Sneezy, and Freezy; Slippy, Drippy, and Nippy; Showery, Flowery, and Bowery; Hoppy, Croppy, and Poppy.
There’s an app for this [0,1]. It follows the calendar and shows you the current season, it’s haiku, seasonal foods, etc. It’s free to view the current season, but you can pay (one-time) to access to the entire calendar. The company that makes it [2] publishes a book as well, though last I checked, it was only in Japanese. They also have an app [3,4] for Nara, showcasing local activities in the area during each microseason.
I haven't used the Japanese calendar but I've spent the last year or so keeping up with what the current solar term is in the Chinese calendar[0]. I highly recommend giving it a try some time; if you don't work outside it's easy to forget about the seasons in general let alone the many variations that can occur within them. I've found solar terms hit a nice sweet spot where they're large enough periods to not be overwhelming or hyper local, but still capturing the rhythms of life.
It's super local for sure. I doubt this one even applies effectively to all of japan. I found out about this a long time ago and have used it as a loose structure for coming up with my own similar thing based on my own area and observations.
But at this level of granularity moving a couple hundred miles north/south or a thousand feet in elevation is enough to shift a lot of it around, both in timing and in most notable plant and animal life at the transitions.
It's really more of a years-long exercise in observation, record keeping, poetry, and sense of place. I doubt there's a pre-made one that works as is for anyone.
To me the entire calendar seems at least a month too "fast". For example:
August 8–12 涼風至 Suzukaze itaru Cool winds blow
When early August anywhere in mainland Japan more closely resembles Satan's armpit, with extreme heat and humidity and a distinct lack of cool breezes.
It is worth noting that the day after December 2, 1872 was January 1, 1873. That's when Japan switched to the Julian Calendar. August 8 before that was... in September.
Things like this remind me of the bizarre notion that only Japan has four seasons. I’ve been surprised by how many times I’ve heard that from people who seemed to sincerely believe it.
I give that as much credence as, say, “only Missouri has grass”.
Though I would not be surprised as it has been very interesting to see Japan and Korea preserving many of the traditional east Asian cultures a lot better than China itself.
I wonder if these were independently derived, or if there was some cultural cross-pollination between China and India? Seems plausible since they're right next to each other.
Anyone can get to know their own locality on this intimate level. I've been spending more time in my yard, and it's really incredible seeing the waves of new plants and animals arising and dissipating over the months. Yesterday I was watching the birch tree behind my back porch losing its leaves (much earlier than most of the trees around). The lawn has large colonies of plants that I didn't see a single specimen of last year. Different insects, mammals, invertebrates, and fungi all show up too.
Oddly enough the more I think about it, Vancouver, Canada has seem parallels to Japan in terms of some of the produce (matsutake mushrooms and burdock root).
I'm not sure about seventy-two of them, but there do seem to be brief little shifts in the climate here. A time to expect lightning bugs, that sort of thing. "Fall" seems grossly inadequate at times.
Australia has many different seasons depending on the area's climate, which all define what is possible to eat: Noongar people from South-west Australia and Yolnu people from Northern Arnhem land have six seasons, Anangu of central Australia have ~five seasons.
Global Warming will (and probably already has) completely ruined that calendar. The problem with creating such optimizations is over fitting (every ML person here should understand this). And since now the underlying system (the climate system) is changing rapidly (causing change in underlying probability distributions), you can throw this calendar out.
I was looking for this bookshop owned by an older woman named yumi, who supposedly had a collection of ancient poems and stories, many of which encompassed the lore of the 72 kō (I never did end up finding it, sadly I had to leave Tokyo the next day, but would be nice to know if someone here has heard of it / visited).
while weaving through the backstreets of shibuya, i was entranced by a faint, melodious chirping that seemed out of place amidst the city's usual cacophony.
Following the sound, i found myself before this dilapidated, ivy-covered wooden house. A hand-painted sign hung at the entrance. "Oshiro's birds" I think it said
Anyway Oshiro was sitting outside and graciously welcomed me in. His living room was packed with birdcages, borderline horder situation. but everything was in beautiful condition, meticulously cleaned. Each cage was home to a bush warbler. the air was filled with their songs, transporting me miles away from the city, to misty mountains and serene valleys.
Oshiro explained the Japanese microseasons to me, and told me about a centuries-old family tradition that centered one in particular. every year, around the onset of february, when the microseason announced the singing of bush warblers, he would embark on a pilgrimage into the mountains. there, he would sit for hours, sometimes days, listening, absorbing, and sometimes even conversing with these birds through his bamboo flute. It was a ritual passed down through generations in his family.
I spent that afternoon with Oshiro, sipping on aged sake, as he told me about his strange (to me) ritual. He played his flute a bit, its notes intertwining with the bird songs, creating a symphony that felt as old as the mountains themselves. Each chirp, each note, was a story, a memory of ages gone by.
as the sun set, casting a golden hue on the room, i realized i hadn’t just discovered a bird enthusiast. in Oshiro, i had met a guardian of time, a man who, year after year, preserved a slice of japan's essence, ensuring that even in the heart of its busiest city, the song of the bush warbler would never fade away.
It is pretty beautiful how such small, centuries-old traditions seem to abound in Japan, where the condition of the west seems to be a state of persistent impermanence.