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.
----
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 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.