Pathway to Japanese Literature

I.

Though the title I chose for today’s lecture—"Ethnic Logic Manifested in Shinto"—might seem unpolished and abstract, potentially failing to fully encapsulate my intended discourse, I wished to investigate what distinctive modes of thought lie at Shinto’s very foundations.

In truth, Shinto studies still lack an established systematic framework.

My own methodological stance—what one might call Kokugakuin-esque—diverges markedly from mainstream scholarly perspectives on Shinto. Yet even among Kokugakuin researchers themselves, minor discrepancies emerge when scrutinizing details; pressing further reveals that each approach ultimately rests upon distinct conceptual underpinnings.

However, generally speaking, much of today’s Shinto research consists merely of fragmentarily gathered good points.
No, this simply won’t do.
It is an undeniable fact that our modern lives are grounded in ancient life; however, to extract only the good aspects from within this and consider them alone as antiquity’s legacy constitutes a grave error. It is only by observing both good and evil aspects together that one can begin to discern Shinto’s true characteristics there.
I believe that the exemplary life of the Japanese people emerges from a state where both good and evil are intermingled.

Even today, visiting Okinawa allows one to witness the life of ancient Japanese people from before the Nara period almost in its unvarnished reality; yet while profound nostalgia permeates those traditions, they also contain elements many would find deeply distasteful.
Were ancient life truly thus constituted, young students on educational tours might find it rather disagreeable—indeed, I suspect one would feel too abashed to boldly declare that Japanese antiquity had been such-and-such.
Yet if this represents genuine ancient life—if it reveals the origins from which our modern existence derives—then we researchers must examine it without prudishness and scrutinize every particular with rigorous care.

Recently, there had been scholars emerging from philosophical fields who approached Shinto studies with sincere dedication; however, among these efforts, one could also find Shinto theories akin to dressing wooden statues in Western suits.
Such cases were also extremely problematic.
In short, I believed that all modern approaches to Shinto studies were fundamentally flawed.

I had previously stated my opinion in the Kokugakuin Journal (the opening essay of the November 1927 issue), but I believe that the primary flaw in modern Shinto research lies in its failure to grasp what determines the fundamental mood of ancient life—whether one calls this *kii no oto* or *teema*, or whatever term one might use. All people constantly derived their Shinto theories from the era and environment in which they lived; however, Shinto research that stood upon individuality and contemporary thought was, in substance, far too insubstantial. For us to correctly perceive Shinto, we needed to grasp something more substantial.

To dare say such things may be presumptuous, but in any case, I wish to focus on how the logical patterns of Japanese ethnic thought originated, developed, transformed, and reached the present day—and investigate from that perspective. If one abstracts only the good aspects and discusses them, it will ultimately result in falsehood. Those who piece together only Shinto's merits and consider that true Shinto regard Buddhism, Confucianism, Taoism and such as enemies of Shinto; yet upon closer examination, what they presume to be Shinto's origins prove surprisingly often to be Buddhism, Confucianism, or Taoism. This occurs because the principles underlying the ethnic logic of the Japanese people remain fundamentally ungrasped. The problem lies in focusing solely on trivialities without observing how uniquely the foundational principles of Japanese ethnic civilization were established compared to those of foreign peoples.

I believe that only after carefully tracing the path along which this ethnic logic has developed can true Shinto research be conducted.

To speak candidly: Is Shinto not now facing a period of imminent reconstruction? Unless they completely dismantle everything built thus far and begin rebuilding from the very foundation, might there no longer remain any path forward? Could it be that all previous Shinto theories amounted to nothing more than hastily thatched huts? Until now, I had proceeded with my research focused primarily on art-centered and literature-centered history; ultimately this aligned with investigations into Shinto history itself. At present my work still remains at the stage of probing its origins—here I wish to discuss one facet of this inquiry.

II.

First and foremost, what I wished to discuss was the terminology used by Japanese Shinto scholars.
What I considered to be the most critical issue was not terminology related to ritual ceremonies or Home Ministry-style jargon, but rather how thoroughly Shinto-related terms that had been used since antiquity had been researched back to their ancient origins.
Of course, senior scholars had undoubtedly made considerable attempts up to a certain point, but all of those efforts remained stuck at the ceiling.
For instance, no one had yet conducted a sufficiently thorough investigation into even where the term “Shinto” itself originated.

I believe that the emergence of the term "Shinto" in common usage by no means demonstrates its inherent glory. Rather, it appears Buddhists designated it as “the Way” (*michi*) in contrast to “the Dharma” (*hō*), framing it as a path belonging to devas and asuras—in other words, a heterodox path. This seems to be a term born from such circumstances.

When Buddhism and Shinto are positioned in opposition within texts like *Nihon Shoki*, this same framework applies. It represents a conventional perspective that views them as components within a greater religious system—specifically, interpreting national deities (*Kunitsu-kami*) as following the path of dharma-protecting benevolent deities (*Gohō Zenshin*).

Therefore, I feel ashamed that the term “Shinto” itself is not only tainted by the shadows of Buddhist Shinto, Onmyōji Shinto, Chanting Monk Shinto, Shugendō Shinto, Ritual Dance Masters, and Provincial Keybearers clinging to it, but also that from its very etymology it remains fated to be entangled with a kind of repugnant form. Therefore, believing it ill-suited to encapsulate contemporary Shinto’s essence, I have recently resolved—at least in my own work—to abstain from using this term. I have thus far discovered considerable documentary evidence supporting this theory of mine; however, should academic proof ever demonstrate that this term genuinely represents Shinto’s glory, I stand prepared at any moment to joyfully and resolutely restore its usage. Yet at present, I cannot perceive it as a term born of Shinto itself—one radiant with divine light.

When I examined texts such as the Kojiki， Nihon Shoki， or norito， I found they contained numerous archaic terms we might call ancient or divine language。
Strangely enough， research had accumulated sufficiently to render most of these words into modern language—yet through my experience， this very fact proved deeply perplexing。
What caused me greatest anguish was norito。
I had already rewritten my oral translations halfway twice over； through this process， I came to master norito’s expressive techniques considerably。
At least within myself—from heart’s deepest chambers—I believe I grasped this truth。

I lectured on the Manyoshu at school, but I sometimes wondered how I could conduct these lectures so smoothly and effortlessly.
Of course, I remained grateful for my predecessors' contributions; yet doubts lingered here.
To maintain skepticism while teaching and explaining was indeed troubling, yet the truth remained - the meanings within Japan's ancient words and texts resisted easy decipherment.
They drifted and shifted endlessly across eras and regions.
Yet those very words had carried fixed traditional interpretations since antiquity, which later generations followed unconditionally.
I considered nothing more meaningless than this.

This solemn realization stemmed from my experience with norito and from retranslating works such as *Kojiki* or even later texts like *The Tale of Genji* into modern language; for instance，even terms like “Heavenly Shade” and “Solar Shade” exemplified this phenomenon.
In all likelihood，few people today believe those terms had maintained consistent usage examples; yet one must consider that there still existed conservative adherents clinging to established interpretations.
As for other old words throughout works like *Kojiki*，*Nihon Shoki*，norito，*Shoku Nihongi*，and *Fudoki*，there remained many instances where identical terms under matching usage examples defied decipherment.
This observation applies even to contemporary vocabulary—beyond being prejudged as having typical meanings，might we not have overlooked more divergent semantic forms?
If such facts seemed absent，was this not due to overreliance on prior scholars’ interpretations while neglecting essential research?
This much constituted an assertion I could make before anyone.

I imagined Mr. Tsugita Jun must have suffered considerably before finally publishing his *Shin Norito Kōshiki*; yet when one actually attempted to render these ancient words into modern language, they repeatedly felt the difficulty.
Admittedly, a superficial interpretation came easily to anyone, but when one truly delved deeply, there were many things that remained unclear.
In my opinion, this was something that had changed during oral transmission—a result of the gradual reshaping of their semantic forms within typical meanings through interpretations by each era and each individual.

As for the terms “Ame no Mikage” and “Hi no Mikage” mentioned earlier, they could be interpreted as referring to a house’s roof; however, when examining what appears to be Hitomaro’s “Fujiwara Palace Well Song” in Book 1 of the *Manyoshu*, they could also be taken to mean water reflecting sunlight and were interpretable through various other meanings besides these.
Considering this perspective, all terms appeared to have diverged from their roots and developed distinct usage examples, with their meanings ultimately being inductively determined—through rational interpretations by later generations (including folk etymologies and scholarly research alike)—in a least common multiple fashion.
When considered based on works like the *Manyoshu*, this term seemed to have been used by people of each era without being properly understood.
During typical rituals or other similar events, such words were used merely as something that had to be employed—utilized without meaning.

According to my interpretation, this couplet in both cases refers to ornamental ropes hanging from heights, with *kage* originally signifying vines.
Therefore, it was used as phrases for praising palaces or during new room dedications.
Through subsequent shifts, it came to signify the palace itself; through further transformation, it took on meanings like the profoundly solemn King Wen residing in dimly lit depths according to certain interpretations.
As I had previously stated, in the Manyoshu this had shifted to mean water reflecting shadows.

When this occurred, word meanings began to drift and interpretations became impossible; however, as one progressively advanced their research, this song appeared to be one that praised the palace’s surrounding mountains and water in accordance with the ancient meaning of feng shui—not grave geomancy—in its verses.
This was a natural consequence arising from praising the house, for praising the house simultaneously meant praising the homeowner’s life, and at the same time, it meant extolling the water that entered the homeowner’s body as both the source of life and the soul.
That the ornamental ropes hanging from the roofs of tall newly-built houses came to signify water also held no mystery whatsoever when viewed in this light.

Even Tachibana Moribe’s boldly interpreted song—“May the Great King’s reign endure long under heaven”—had, due to *Heavenly Shade* and *Solar Shade* becoming formulaic expressions, caused interpreters to forget mentioning the ritual ropes in their analyses. For even without stating such matters explicitly, one could offer blessings for the Son of Heaven’s longevity through phrases that evoked a vague, conventional sentiment. Furthermore, the term “Ame no Mikabi” (天乃美賀秘)—the character 秘 remained questionable—in the *Izumo Kuni no Miyatsuko Kamuyogoto* referred to a headdress worn on the head; this too ultimately corresponded to what was called *kagemi* in helmet-like items seen in texts such as the *Harima Fudoki*, but its usage differed significantly from the ordinary *Heavenly Shade* and *Solar Shade*.

In any case, when examining norito through this lens, the terms *Heavenly Shade* and *Solar Shade* were employed across diverse contexts, yet their meanings remained perpetually unstable.
Moreover, they were utilized almost entirely without being comprehended.

Though publicly stating such matters might prove discourteous to devout senior scholars, I do not regard formulaic *norito* as particularly ancient. This can be substantiated through linguistic history. While certain textual portions do contain genuinely archaic elements, newer components predominate—coupled with terminological inconsistencies reaching extremes of disarray. These are not matters of primary versus secondary meanings; rather, meanings get arbitrarily extracted from orally preserved classical texts lacking written form, then deployed according to each interpreter’s discretion. To their credit, communities maintaining ancient sacred traditions refrain from capricious alterations—persisting with fixed or distorted usages even when meanings elude comprehension—yet layered eras inevitably force transformations upon them.

For example, when examining the chapter on the Descent of the Heavenly Grandson in Shinto scriptures and comparing the *Kojiki* and *Nihon Shoki*, they were divided into roughly three distinct patterns.
First, when we examined the *Kojiki*, it stated: "On the Heavenly Floating Bridge, Ukishimari, Soritadasu."
It was a rather strange phrase, but the *Nihon Shoki* rendered it as 「則自槵日二上天浮橋立於浮渚在平処」, while yet another text recorded it differently.
All of these were written with due respect to the value of their respective traditions; because they could not be arbitrarily altered through later interpretations, they remained preserved in their original forms up until the time of their recording.

However, when it comes to practical language, such neat solutions do not apply.
As new meanings are added, they gradually shift toward those new directions, making it impossible to discern how far they still align with the original semantic roots.
The interpretations transmitted today—I cannot help but think they were likely formed by someone carelessly devising rational explanations at some halfway point.

In any case, when one closely studies old words, most traditional interpretations turn out to be little more than discarded stones on a Go board—serving only as temporary markers and nothing of real substance.
Therefore, I believe one cannot deeply trust such things or use them as a basis to decipher ancient texts.

III

The Japanese mode of thinking acquired permanence, of course, only after the establishment of written language; however, what is considered the oldest form of writing today consists of the incantations that formed the prototype for norito, which have diversely shaped the laws of Japanese thought.
In this sense, I believe that all who wish to understand the ancient life of the Japanese people—whether literary artists, religious figures, ethicists, or historians—must begin their studies from these incantations.

However, even the norito that followed those incantations—as I had previously stated—proved exceedingly difficult for contemporary minds to comprehend.
Suzuki Shigetane was in certain respects considered preeminent among Kokugakuin scholars—a distinguished academic one could not help but respect—yet regrettably appeared unable to fully overturn his predecessors' opinions, achieving only partial revisions.
This consequently produced numerous unresolved issues.

First among norito's elements fundamentally governing Japanese thought stood the concept of mikotomochi.
Mikotomochi denoted those who conveyed divine words—specifically kami-originated utterances first proclaimed in primal revelation ("divine utterances")—with these transmitters themselves constituting mikotomochi.
The very words spoken by norito reciters were never mikoto.
While mikotomochi came to be represented in later eras by characters like 宰 (sai), instances also existed where Taifu was read as mikotomochi.
Regardless of designation, though all entailed bearing divine words, Taifu represented a comparatively lower-ranking category of mikotomochi.
In contrast stood the supreme mikotomochi—His Majesty the Emperor.
That is to say, His Majesty manifested as mikotomochi of the heavenly kami.
Thus even imperial proclamations were termed mikoto until later schisms produced substitute mikotomochi acting on His Majesty's behalf.
These became known as the Nakatomi clan.

As evident from its founding purpose, *Kogoshūi* records Imibe no Hiroshige ardently advocating the theory of equivalence between the Nakatomi and Imibe clans; however, I never placed much weight on that *Kogoshūi* from the outset. In researching ancient matters, I did not consider it particularly significant. At minimum, I must confess that within my methodological approach, it proved more obstructive than beneficial. While acknowledging numerous sections undoubtedly permeated by later rational interpretations—a secondary concern—the foundational premise asserting parity between the Nakatomi and Imibe clans' social standing remains fundamentally flawed. The Imibe clan were never divine word-bearers from their inception. To phrase it differently, they would have qualified merely as Yamatsumi’s ritual envoys at best. As *be-gun* and *tomo no miyatsuko* transmitting *iwaigoto* foundational to *kotohogi*, they cannot be deemed proxies for the Son of Heaven’s decrees. Classical researchers’ progress in source discernment matters little—so long as their methods lack psychological penetration while masquerading as science, they remain futile. Thus do we affirm the Nakatomi clan alone constituted the Son of Heaven’s true divine word-bearers—though this holds true only at bedrock level.

In a broad sense, those who announced and transmitted divine words externally were all bearers of divine words.
Provincial Governors and Provincial Officials dispatched to various provinces and entrusted with local administration were also bearers of divine words; consequently, their subordinate staff likewise received favorable treatment as bearers of divine words.
Furthermore, alongside male bearers of divine words, there separately existed female bearers of divine words.
In this manner, while the supreme and highest bearer of divine words was none other than His Majesty the Emperor himself, as this role gradually fragmented, numerous smaller bearers of divine words successively emerged in descending order.

A noteworthy characteristic common to these bearers of divine words was that even the smallest such bearer possessed, at minimum, the same qualification as those who first uttered these divine words. This derived from the inherent power of the ritual recitations themselves—in the very moment they proclaimed and transmitted these recitations, they became exactly the same kami as the deity who originally spoke those words. Thus while His Majesty the Emperor transmitting divine utterances stood unquestionably as kami, furthermore the Nakatomi clan and other high-ranking officials conveying imperial decrees—originally *kami attendants* stationed at ritual sites—all through their status as mikotomochi partook not merely in imperial authority but directly in divine power itself. Through gradual ascension, they became equivalent to higher-ranking entities.

This relationship persisted far into later generations.
For instance, consider the chanting priests affiliated with temples.
They originally belonged to a low-ranking temple servant class called shōmonmi, yet traveled about reciting incantations.
Later, many joined Onmyōdō and became Onmyōji.
Yet intriguingly, these chanting priests predominantly identified themselves as members of the Fujiwara clan.
This indicates that through reciting incantations, they attained equal status with the Fujiwara.
——This arose from circumstances barring them from becoming Nakatomi practitioners, and likely official prohibitions——We sometimes encounter communities in remote mountain villages with poor transportation where people claim descent from Genji, Heike, or Fujiwara exiles; among these exist entire villages composed solely of Fujiwara descendants—so-called exile settlements.
Superficially the reason remains unclear, but in truth these were new colonies established by chanting priests in vacant lands.
The name derives from their recitation of purification spells.
Moreover, phrases like “Fujiwara ya” appearing in snake-repelling incantations similarly originate from these priests’ adoption of the Fujiwara identity.

In this manner，the ideology that those who originally uttered the divine words and those who now recite them are temporarily placed on equal footing evolved in later periods into the notion that such qualifications endure perpetually.
The notion that His Majesty the Emperor was simultaneously a heavenly kami originated from there，and that constituted the fundamental meaning of *as a god* (惟神).
*As a god* (惟神) meant “the kami itself，”and His Majesty the Emperor was granted the qualification of a manifest kami—possessing divine nature *as a god*—in order to perform ritual recitations.
This concept of *as a god* could also be transferred to and considered in relation to the Nakatomi and other bearers of divine words；consequently，it was only natural that the Nakatomi—who exclusively managed the imperial rituals—came to dominate.

IV

In contrast to the Nakatomi clan serving as male bearers of divine words within the court, there also existed a form resembling mikotomochi among the court women.
It stands to reason that these women likely transmitted divine words orally; what later became recorded in written form were what came to be known as *Naishisen* and *Nyōbōsen*.
In later dynasties, they appeared to have ceased regarding such women as qualified bearers of divine words; however, examination of records like the *Eke no Shidai* still reveals frequent mentions of Nakatomi women and Mononobe women, with Nakatomi women particularly prominent.
By the time this record was written, their roles had become fixed and meaningless; these women had originally accompanied His Majesty the Emperor during his purification rituals and provided various forms of assistance.

What comes to mind here is that among the empresses and consorts of ancient times, there were many who were female descendants of water deities.
I have lately been considering water deities and their priestesses called “water women,” but curiously, while Konohanasakuya-hime—the first empress of the Descent of the Heavenly Grandson—was the daughter of Ohoyamatsumi, the subsequent empresses up to around Emperor Suinin were mostly daughters of water deities.
And thus, it can be observed that even Konohanasakuya-hime sufficiently possessed elements of “water women.”
In short, all deities of the Izumo lineage are either “water deities” or “water women,” and if one traces the lineages of Susanoo and Ōkuninushi, one will discover that they are mostly water deities.
In any case, it is a fact that successive empresses and consorts have predominantly belonged to the Izumo lineage—and consequently, the water deity lineage—and from this perspective, it appears that all ancient consorts historically entered the court as daughters of water deities, thereafter beginning their service in the form of women of Izumo lineage.

In relation to this, there was one curious matter.
This refers to an episode in the Suinin chapter where when Empress Sahohime and her brother were about to perish by burning within a rice-straw fortification, Emperor Suinin sent a messenger to inquire, “Who could untie the cord you have fastened?” To this, Empress Sahohime respectfully replied that it would be fitting to send Hikobime and Wakobime, daughters of Mishinōushi no Ō.
According to conventional interpretations, this had been understood as meaning that because she became empress, she untied the cord; however, this reasoning was inverted—it was through untying the cord that one became empress.
Untying the cord was an essential condition accompanying purification rituals, and the relationship between firmly securing the cord during purification and being a consort remained thoroughly cyclical.
Moreover, first and foremost, they were those who emerged from the water to undertake the role of untying the Son of Heaven’s cord of ritual abstinence.

V

When the ideology of *mikotomochi* transformed, it became “Mōsu,” and when simplified further, became “Azukaru.”
When it came to “Mōsu,” its meaning broadened slightly beyond *mikotomochi*, encompassing even regents as “those who administer governance through Mōsu.”
This “Mōsu” was indeed the act of performing ritual recitations; in ancient times, it took the form of petitioning from subordinate to superior.
To rephrase, “rehearsed petitioning” approached its original meaning.
Even without explicitly invoking later analogies or ritual recitations, it still fundamentally originated from that practice.

Regarding the distinction between rituals (matsuri) and governance (matsurigoto), my late teacher Professor Mitsuya Shigematsu had nearly completed his interpretation, but I believe some aspects still remained unaddressed.
To understand this distinction, the foremost task lay in investigating the true significance of His Majesty the Emperor’s governance over the land of sustenance (*mikuni no matsurigoto*). However, in modern times, interpreting *shoku su* merely as an honorific form of *kuu* (“to eat”), they rigidly construed *mikuni* as lands producing offerings for imperial consumption—yet in antiquity, this concept had likely held far greater fluidity.
However, if we were to ask what constituted the most crucial task in the governance of the land of sustenance, it was to recite the incantations bestowed by the heavenly gods.
Regarding the “matsu” of *matsuri* (rituals), there existed research by Mr. Andō Masatsugu, but there still remained more beyond this.
While it was acceptable to derive the etymology of *matsuri* from *matasu* and interpret *matasu* as an abbreviation of *matsuridasu* (“to initiate rituals”), this explanation remained incomplete.
The term *matasu* referred to dispatching someone for an errand—that is, the meaning of “dispatch of envoys”—while *matsuru* meant carrying out what had been commanded.
In simple terms, it was the act of performing ritual recitations.
In Empress Jingū’s imperial poem,

This sacred sake is not my own.
The deity Kushi no Kami resides in Tokoyo; augustly commands Sukuna Mikami—abundant flourishing, flourishing to the roots; divine flourishing, flourishing forth—the sacred sake offered in ritual. (*Chronicle of Emperor Chūai*)

The term 'matsuru' mentioned here, if accurately translated, signifies sacred sake offered through abundant flourishing and divine flourishing, and refers precisely to the recitation of these very words.
The most ancient ritual words would be these.
This practice gradually transformed until they came to declare, "We have accomplished it as commanded," present production goods, and perform the so-called land-of-sustenance rituals—thereby establishing that *matsuru* (to perform rituals) equated to *tatematsuru* (to reverently present).
Through this rehearsed reporting, it transformed into *mawosu* (to report).
The fact that *matsuru* (to perform rituals) equates to *tatematsuru* (to reverently present) is something my late teacher himself had already interpreted up to that point.
In essence, when we recognize that ritual events consist of both: the ceremonial acts wherein divine words received from Heavenly Deities are recited, and the subsequent presentation of harvests obtained through such recitations to the kami—with the recitation itself constituting the core ritual—then the concept of "governance over the land of sustenance" becomes fully comprehensible.
In other words, the ritual consists of bearers of divine words reciting those very words they have brought forth, and it has expanded to include a subsequent ceremony where the results are reported.
The ceremonies centered on that are what constitute the rituals.
I believe the meaning of "ritual governance" during Prince Yamato Takeru's journey to the eastern provinces can be splendidly understood through this.

However, in later periods, these ritual affairs gradually became more administrative, divorcing themselves from rites that presented produce to the kami and coming to omit the recitations.
However, the fundamentals remained largely unchanged; by this point, the ideology of divine word-bearers continued to evolve further, and this in turn gave rise to retirement privileges and the ethos of *gekokujō* (lower overthrowing higher).

Next, I would like to slightly shift direction.

As I previously stated, when a person serving as a bearer of divine words recites those words, they become equal in status to the kami who originally uttered them; furthermore, through this recitation, temporally it becomes the same "time" as when they were first recited, and spatially it becomes the same "place" as where they were first recited.
In other words, while the kami invoked in the *norito* are understood to have recited these prayers for specific times and places, even when recited in different times and locations, that site immediately becomes identical to the original temporal and spatial context of the *norito*'s first utterance.
I maintain that without such an interpretation, one cannot grasp Shinto's spiritual foundations or the archaic principles preserved in folk traditions.

Indeed, Venerable Suzuki Shigetane had from early on paid some attention to this point.
The reason I wish to place kokugaku scholars first in terms of significance among Shinto scholars is this.
Could not even the expansion of the country name Yamato to encompass all of Japan be interpreted from this meaning?
“Ōyamato Nekoko no Sumeramikoto” was an eternal appellation for all generations, used in both the original court’s edicts and enthronement ceremony proclamations; this goes without saying—it signified Yamato’s supreme deity-human.
They were one with the *Nekoko* of Yamashiro, Naniwa, Ōtata, and others.
And so, while its scope initially extended only within Yamato Province and later gradually expanded, the reason all of Japan came to be called *Yamato* was not due to being under the Yamato court’s dominion, but rather stemmed from faith in norito associated with the title Ōyamato Nekoko no Sumeramikoto.
Therefore, even after the capital was moved to Yamashiro, they continued to recite Yamato’s norito, and evidence of this is clearly seen in how the divine names of Yamato’s six august counties appear in the norito used when enshrining deities in the imperial lands near Kyoto.

Furthermore, what arose in association with this was the phenomenon of place names being transferred.
Throughout the country's place names, there existed numerous instances of identical names to an extent approaching mundanity.
But at the very least, their primary cause lay entirely in norito having made it so.
Fujiwara and Asuka would be striking examples of this.
Furthermore, Ashihara no Nakatsukuni existed in Kyushu and various other places, but this was because if one recited the norito of Ashihara no Nakatsukuni, that very place became Ashihara no Nakatsukuni—so there was nothing strange about it at all.
In my observation, place names in antiquity shifted far more freely; for instance, I surmised that when one recited the epic narrating the Descent of the Heavenly Grandson, that very location would immediately become the land of Hyūga.
This was an entirely natural phenomenon when viewed through the laws of thought held by people of antiquity.
Therefore, time had of course always been transcended.
For example, both Emperor Jimmu and Emperor Sujin were emperors who performed the nation-founding.
In my youth, when I attempted to rationally consider this matter, I dimly glimpsed the shadow of a land where life transforms; but this too had its nation-founding incantations, and all those who recited those norito were emperors who performed the founding of the nation.
Among them, it was only those figures who left particularly profound impressions that ultimately came to remain as proper nouns.

Furthermore, when examining the *Shoku Nihongi*, one finds conceptual phrases such as “sume-ra ga miyo miyo naka ima” (the imperial reigns through generations, [with] the present as the center).
This meant that now was considered the most central moment.
That is to say, they regarded this present instant itself as the most genuine temporal reality.
While contemplating the long span of “Imperial Reigns through Generations,” they nevertheless maintained faith that through incantatory power, even within that vast temporal expanse, the present moment became the most authentic time.

The very term “the realm under heaven” (amaga shita) derived from an ancient conception that His Majesty the Emperor’s residence stood directly beneath Takamagahara, the Plain of High Heaven.
In essence, only the imperial palace—serving as a direct conduit between heaven and earth—qualified as this celestial domain.
All of this too had been made manifest through norito’s transformative force.

Even more mysterious still was the concept of “Aki-kaeshi” (商返).
This appeared in the poetry of the *Man’yōshū*; it was commonly read as *akikaeshi*, but could also be read as *akikawari*.

"If only there were an imperial decree to enact *Aki-kaeshi*, then even my humble self would have it returned." (*Man’yōshū*, Book 16)

This was the poem in question, and its meaning had been clearly understood since ancient times.
This "Aki-kaeshi" referred to the liberation of lending and borrowing acts; once such an imperial edict was proclaimed, all credits and debts would be nullified.
Therefore, by applying this relationship to that between a man and a woman, this poem delivered a light sarcasm.
Here, the term “minori” referred to an imperial decree from the court, sharing the same semantic value as when reading “constitution” as “minori”; it was reasonable to conclude that this too originally took form as norito.

The ideology of Aki-kaeshi’s *minori* likely originated from the concept that when His Majesty the Emperor ascended the Takamikura at the beginning of spring and recited the New Year’s *norito*, heaven and earth were renewed.
In later times, this court event became limited solely to enthronement ceremonies; the Takamikura was the place where His Majesty the Emperor attained the same status as the heavenly deities.
Once His Majesty ascended there, the words he proclaimed immediately became those of the heavenly deities themselves.
And through the proclamation of those august words, time completely returned to its origin.
The efficacy of the Aki-kaeshi minori was, after all, based on the same concept as this.
Due to the scarcity of records related to the common people, in later ages, the implementation of debt relief policies that appeared during the Muromachi period was viewed by some as something novel; however, from the perspective of faith in norito, this was an entirely natural form—a practice that had existed in our country since ancient times.

In this manner, through the power of norito alone, time returned to its origin and locations shifted freely.
That is to say, both time and space could be manipulated as desired through a single norito.

Our country had long held a belief in the spirit of words (kotodama), but interpreting this as fragmented phrases containing spiritual essence—as had been traditionally done—was a later conception; in antiquity, people understood kotodama as latent deities within incantations.
However, even that had not been a belief existing since primordial times.
Long before that era, norito were revered as sacred because people believed they housed the power of kami who first uttered those words—those who recited them would immediately become those kami.
And in later ages, as this understanding had been forgotten, people came to think that kotodama resided within norito.
Therefore, it must be said that even interpretations of the term "kotodama" merely corresponded to relatively newer terminological usages from subsequent eras.
What worldly scholars expounded possessed layers upon layers of depth; such ritual practices developed into theatrical, dance, and vocal music forms—this became Japanese performing arts.
Thus Japanese art retained traces of antiquity to an extreme degree.
Even when reaching the Tokugawa period, revisions made remained only partial.
And when observing carefully, faith in norito had settled and persisted everywhere.

For example, while this was also due to intense oppression, the events of that era appearing in literary works had both their time periods and locations altered from reality.
This holds true whether one examines *Jōruri* puppet theater or *Gesaku* comic fiction.
In both the Osaka Campaign and the Battle of Sekigahara, all enemy forces were transformed into the Kamakura faction and Kyoto faction.
In Kabuki theater—needless to say—and also in sharebon-type works and ikishobon books, such influence could be observed.
In other words, in those books, they took matters of Edo and brought them to Kamakura.
There were instances where Edo’s place names were replaced with ones like Inasegawa Mitsukai no Dan or Nanigatani, as well as records that styled Tomioka Hachiman after Tsurugaoka.

As I had previously stated, it could indeed be said that this disregard of time and space in Tokugawa-era literature stemmed from the shogunate’s oppression; however, there must necessarily have been a reason for adopting such an evasive approach.
I view this as the result of *norito*’s faith being deeply rooted in Japanese minds—even if individual authors lacked definitive awareness of this, it was undeniable that it originated there as a whole.

Next, what was deduced from the concept of *mikotomochi* was the concept of *ochi*. This signified immortality and bore a close relationship to belief in incantations. Whenever they recited the formula to return to the origin, they became new beings each time and obtained eternal life through this process. That Takeuchi no Sukune maintained longevity exceeding three hundred years was also due to this principle. Moreover, this figure was connected to the origins of Honkayoka poetry. Such prolonged existence stood as an entirely natural outcome. Furthermore, folk traditions attributed extended lifespans to figures like Yamatohime-no-mikoto, Yao Bikuni, and Hitachibō Kaison—all associations likewise tied to incantatory practices.

In these tales, those who recounted the past came to be regarded as people who had simultaneously lived through that very past; however, this later transformed into depicting them as individuals who had been close to the protagonists of those stories.
For instance, Hitachibō Kaison in relation to Yoshitsune and Tora Gozen in relation to the Soga brothers belong to this category.
However, that Tora Gozen does not actually denote a character within the tale but rather signifies that a person called Tora Goze traveled about narrating the Soga brothers' story.
The "Goze" in Tora Goze shares its origin with blind female performers known as goze.
She was a blind goze named Tora.
What began as Shirabyoshi-style songs chanted while beating a drum gradually developed until it ultimately formed that entire Soga Monogatari narrative.
The Otorakitsune fox spirit of Mikawa Nagashino and the Yashima tanuki raccoon dog spirit of Sanuki's Yashima recounting tales of the Battle of Nagashino and the Genpei War also fall into this category.
Strangely enough, traces of Princess Jōruri remain preserved in Nagashino.
The famous Yashima tanuki too belongs to this derivative lineage—it was believed that all who narrated past events in such fashion were necessarily immortal.
This simultaneously demonstrates how they journeyed endlessly far and wide, spreading their tales through song as they traveled.

A notable modern example substantiating this was the nenbutsu nuns who traveled while chanting through song; accounts of these nuns remained preserved even in Jōruri. This pattern proved particularly pronounced among nuns performing confessional tales. Yao Bikuni of Wakasa likely belonged to that ancient category, I believe. Moreover, an example hitting precisely was Chikamatsu’s Fifty-Year Memorial Song Nenbutsu. Observing this work—after Seijūrō was killed, his sister and betrothed together became song nuns embarking on a nationwide journey—its foundation originated from such song nuns’ chants being compiled into texts. Prior existed O-Natsu from Five Women, and earlier still, an O-Natsu who became material for sung narratives (kayōsaimon). The famous account of Nishizawa Ippū visiting Himeji, meeting an elderly O-Natsu and feeling disillusioned was likely true, but regardless represented transposing nenbutsu’s principal figure into song form. That groups of nenbutsu nuns traveled narrating O-Natsu’s story remained fact; by Japanese deductive logic, this meant they were O-Natsu. Even if not truly O-Natsu, they confessed in O-Natsu’s capacity. This had been storytelling’s fundamental qualification since antiquity—O-Natsu’s tale too clearly originated as a story narrated by a traveling nun named O-Natsu. Otherwise, how O-Natsu became a nun remained inexplicable.

In any case, the nenbutsu nuns—that is, the Kumano nuns—are of the Tora Gozen type.
It is likely that the blind shamanesses who should be collectively referred to by the name Tora Gozen also have their origins in Kumano.
According to transmitted accounts, since that story is said to have originated from the faith in Hakone Gongen, it is likely that someone first brought the Kumano faith to Hakone, linked it with Izu Mountain, and thus formed two Kumano sites here—east and west.
The Nisho Gongen of Sagami originated from Kumano, and a certain type of Kumano nuns based there gave rise to the Soga Monogatari.
Those are all, like Tora Goze, considered part of the Kumano lineage.
However, upon careful examination of these Kumano nuns, one finds that many bear names ending with *Ju* (寿).
For example, Seiju is such a case.
This is presumably derived from Kannon faith, but even the name *Seijūrō* in “O-Natsu Seijūrō” naturally invites certain associations.

In this manner, a form of immortality came to be religiously acknowledged in those who recited norito or narrated tales of antiquity.
The Emperor knew no human death; neither did death exist for the Izumo Kuni no Miyatsuko.
This stemmed from how even when the current Kuni no Miyatsuko died, their successor immediately assumed the same qualifications—moreover, even after later interpretations emerged, it remained customary for the Kuni no Miyatsuko household to forgo mourning rites upon their head’s passing.
The court’s observance of mourning constituted a rationalized interpretation of the prolonged ritual seclusion required to fully obtain one’s status as Offspring of the Sun.
This derived from excessive adherence to Chinese ceremonial protocols.

Furthermore, another point I wish to note in connection with bearers of divine words is that in our country, there exist a considerable number of shrines where goddesses serve as their principal deities.
These are mostly shamaness deities, while the true gods remain concealed behind them.
Although these goddess-centered shrines still remain numerous even today, it was originally high-ranking priestesses who served the gods that later acquired divine qualifications.
Due to the nature of their duties—living lives particularly isolated from humans—they ultimately became true gods.
In the imperial court, the Naka Sumeramikoto—or Naka Sumeramikoto no Mikoto—were made to assume that role.
This appears to have primarily referred to Her Majesty the Empress, and later gave rise to titles such as Chūgū and Chūgūin.
The Heian-period Chūgū would also represent this tradition.
The term Naka signifies an intermediary—a revered figure positioned between the Emperor and the gods.
We ordinarily associate this concept with His Majesty the Emperor and consider it separate from divine matters, but when no Emperor existed, that Naka Sumeramikoto was made to occupy the same significance as a female Emperor.
Empress Jingū and Emperor Jitō serve as prime examples of this principle.
In essence, they would temporarily occupy the imperial throne and await the reinstatement of one qualified to become the next Emperor.
Historical records suggest Emperor Seinei reached a state of near collapse from prolonged waiting.

In terms of the ancient Japanese way of thinking, these Naka Sumeramikoto became gods temporarily to inherit divine recitations; however, later this became linked with a different form of faith—namely, soul worship—giving rise to the notion that reciting incantations would cause the kami’s soul to attach itself.
Even if they ate the food offered before the gods, they believed it would follow.

In ancient times, the practice of *tamafuri* (soul-shaking) was performed in our country; its original intent was indeed to anchor souls.
This practice later transformed into concepts such as pacifying souls (*tamashizume*), but prior to that transition, there existed ideas about souls multiplying and proliferating—from which terms like “august soul proliferation” (*mitama no fuyu*) used around the Nara period ultimately originated.

In this sense, the act of offering food or similar items to the gods was for the purpose of achieving a mutual exchange of souls.
In cases like the Izumo Kuni no Miyatsuko’s Kamuyogoto ritual, when members of their clan recited incantations to pledge submission, their souls would simultaneously attach themselves to the recipient; however, as this alone proved insufficient, they came to summon souls by offering food and reciting clan-specific norito in accordance with an ancient belief that souls adhere to sustenance.
The root of offering various ritual offerings—mirror rice cakes, water, millet cakes, sweet fermented rice liquor, hand-pressed rice balls, and others—lay precisely here.
In other words, it came to mean offering souls by encompassing both aspects.

Therefore, incantations were, from the perspective of those being recited to, longevity prayers—that is, words concerning lifespan—while simultaneously being, from the perspective of those reciting them, oaths of submission.
That is to say, the act of seeking to enhance the health of those who served by offering guardian souls constituted the supreme method of submission.
In later periods, they came to employ various special rhetorical techniques in the expressions of these oaths of submission, incorporating metaphorical phrases of pledge; however, in ancient oaths, reciting longevity prayers itself constituted the oath, while simultaneously being perceived as longevity prayers from the recipient’s perspective.

In this way, in ancient times in our country, reciting longevity prayers to pledge submission was equivalent to offering one’s soul; however, the distinction between these souls and kami had long since become conflated. Nigihayahi no Mikoto is considered the ancestral deity of the Mononobe clan, but in truth, it was the soul that should attach itself to those who ruled Yamato. Unless this great spirit attached itself, Yamato could not be possessed. Therefore, Emperor Jimmu too only after being allied with Nigihayahi no Mikoto deigned to vanquish Nagasunehiko. The reason Isonokami’s pacification method was esteemed also arose from this fact. In this way, when subordinates offered guardian souls to their superiors, souls were granted in exchange from the superiors to the subordinates. When one prays to the kami, the kami’s soul becomes divided, attaches to the supplicant, and begins to work. The winter garment distribution ceremony observable from the later dynastic period onward constitutes a vestige of that practice—that is to say, they attached souls to garments and distributed them.

VI

As I have described above, there existed a tendency among the Japanese people whereby through a single act, they simultaneously performed and contemplated the numerous facts associated with it.
That is to say, performing house purification was at once an act of celebrating the master’s longevity and at the same time the very reason for pacifying the land’s soul.
Due to this relationship, in Japan’s ancient texts, three or four meanings were inherently expressed simultaneously within a single piece of writing.
At first glance, it might appear to express a single matter, but tracing its logic revealed that metaphorically several expressions were continuously presented.
Moreover, as authors, they simultaneously and directly engaged with these numerous ideas without recognizing any hierarchical relationship between them.
This was precisely why Omoikane no Kami manifested.
Omoikane no Kami was a deity who combined numerous minds, fully expressed the heart of thought, and devised norito.
In other words, Omoikane no Kami constituted a purified form of the god of norito.
In this manner, in Japan’s ancient texts, even though the expression was singular, its purpose and efficacy were plural and simultaneously holistic.

However, most Shinto theologians—researchers grounded in our classical texts—and those Shinto philosophers who have imported Western-style organizational frameworks fail to grasp this point.
And because they fail to comprehend this point, the inner lives of ancient people have only been apprehended in an exceedingly facile and commonsensical manner.
Though its outward form may appear deceptively simple, the methodology of incantatory composition is distinguished by its pervasive efficacy; in this sense, I maintain that no text surpasses norito in richness of implication.

Next, while scholars have long debated interpretations of the term "norito," norito refers specifically to the location where His Majesty the Emperor ascends the imperial throne platform—the site of proclamation—at spring’s commencement and recites preordained words of blessing.
In other words, it signifies the norito house and norito seat.
The place where His Majesty the Emperor recites divine incantations and is granted the qualification of Ōyamatoneko Sumeramikoto is precisely “norito.”
And in that context, the words His Majesty the Emperor proclaims are “noritogoto.”
Initially, it was a preliminary blessing—that is, "kotohogi"—but gradually this differentiated, later coming to carry meanings of praise and transforming into expressions of gratitude.

Sake-related rituals originally consisted of blessing words recited during brewing and accompanying dances, but later came to include even the drinking of that brewed sake.
Thus initially, words blessing successful brewing simultaneously served to wish health upon drinkers; this further transformed into drinking sake to heal travelers’ fatigue and cure illnesses.
In other words, this too constitutes grand circular logic.
In this manner, *norito* inherently carry not only blessings but also constant connotations of gratitude and praise.

In this way, the fact that ancient Japanese people viewed all things associatively also compelled them to perceive objects metaphorically.
"The act of 'designating the heavenly pillar,' I maintain, did not involve physically erecting a pillar but rather entailed symbolically consecrating an object as such through blessings."
The phrase "creating lands using Awashima as a womb" had long been considered an enigmatic expression, and though a certain scholar interpreted this as meaning "as the eldest son," that interpretation was erroneous.
To give birth to a country, there needed to exist a womb capable of bearing it.
Thus they ritually designated that womb as Awashima and caused it to engender the land.
That is to say, this too represents an archetype of 'symbolic designation' philosophy.

This concept of "symbolic likening" was interconnected with the concepts of *norito* ritual prayers, new chamber purification rites, and grand hall purification rites; since *norito* in particular formed their central force, I believe that had one conducted sufficient research into *norito*, even Shinto-related mysteries that had remained unsolved until now would have begun to unravel with unexpected clarity.