Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

Herein I wished chiefly to summarize and discuss flowers employed in rituals.

Among the poetic place names that served as themes in mid-Heian court poetry, those of the Eastern Provinces were held with particularly intense interest.

The elements of the Eastern Provinces, carrying an air of exoticism, received special welcome from poets and others.
This still holds influence among us.
For instance, in the Kantō region people genuinely believed in the existence of "Nige mizu."
It was thought that the further one pursued it, the more this water would retreat.
Terms like "Irimakotoba" also entered the realm of poetic place names much later.
These were believed to invert any human utterance.
Artifacts such as "Horikane no I" similarly emerged in later periods.
Shimotsuke Province boasts its own example with "Muro no Yashima."
Such phenomena existed abundantly elsewhere.
Travelers' embellished accounts of their journeys fueled intense fascination among capital residents.
The origin story of the "Hitachi obi" stands as another instance.
Generally speaking, elements spanning from the Eastern Provinces into Ōshū possessed a marked tendency to evoke exotic sensibilities.

Amidst such things existed the practice of planting Nishiki trees at gates.
Village men would cut down Nishiki trees and plant them at the gate of the house of a woman they fancied.
At the gate of a beautiful woman's house, numerous Nishiki trees would be planted by the village youths.
Though unclear how one discerned which belonged to whom, the woman would take in the bundle from the man she favored among them.
This signified the woman's consent.
This custom had been passed down as one of those provincial tales claiming such practices existed in marriages of Mutsu Province toward the end of the Heian period—eventually becoming poetic place names—but upon closer examination, matters might not have been quite so.

This was likely the same as the Okamado-gi used in New Year's pine decorations—wouldn't this have been something where people came to plant trees outside others' homes without their knowledge? Why was this tree called the Nishiki Tree? The question arises: Was there an actual tree called Nishiki Tree, or did people call whatever tree was planted there by that name? However, I think this was not for marriage but rather one explanation for how someone from outside would plant it as a gift before departing. The old form of the Okamado-gi could be seen in the customs of the mountainous Mikawa-Shinano border region and Enshū's remote areas. In Mikawa's hinterlands existed a festival held in early spring called Hanamatsuri. In former times, it had been held during the eleventh month of the previous year—a preemptive spring festival of sorts. Through this ritual's meaning, mountain people demonstrated how "the village life in the coming year would unfold thus." At that time, they brought various mountain offerings that later diversified into multiple types. Alongside trees called oniki (demon tree) and niumoki (possibly cinnabar tree), they carried an assortment of other items.

Although the Flower Festival and the planting of Nishiki trees at gates originally occurred at different times, they had now drawn near each other, coinciding with the start of the New Year and around Koshōgatsu (the Little New Year). In medieval times, there had been a gap between early spring when Nishiki trees were planted and the Eleventh Month when the Hanamatsuri was held; however, one could infer that in more ancient times, the period for planting Nishiki trees and the timing of the Hanamatsuri had coincided, gradually diverging over time.

The events of the Hanamatsuri festival had "Hanasodate" as the central performance in their program of entertainments. They split a bamboo stalk, divided its tip into several parts, attached flowers to those divided tips to create a flowered staff, and performed the Hanamatsuri in a place—typically the earthen floor of a house called a Mayauta—where they circled around the mahito. In its center stood a large cauldron where water boiled furiously. When excitement reached its peak, even spectators joined in and circled around it. At the center of these people stood a figure called myōdō dressed as a mountain ascetic, chanting phrases known as "the adornment of flowers" (referred to in some regions as "chanting texts"). The chanting of these flowers could, depending on the occasion, become highly theatrical. It seemed such ceremonies were conducted even when not specifically part of Hanamatsuri, but why these events were held became a significant question—one that remained at least partially unresolved.

To present my theory: the myōdō is none other than what I call the mountain people.
Those mountain people descended from the mountains in procession, accompanied by a large retinue.
At that time, they came leaning on their staffs, and when departing, thrust into the ground the staff bearing their mark before returning.
When roots sprouted from these staffs, the festival's incantations took effect, bringing prosperity to the village's agricultural life.
They believed efficacy would be absent when no roots sprouted.
These staffs ordinarily had roots, though some lacked them.
Mulberry trees were known to take root readily even without existing roots; they appeared in norito prayers with phrases like "like the flourishing branches of the mulberry," being trees of thick-growing boughs.
In any case, the mountain people brought staffs with or without roots and planted them there.

People of old would plant their staffs upside down with the treetop end buried in the earth.
This staff was called a forked staff.
In former times, itinerant monk-beggars carried these as they wandered.
This form exists even in the West—a universal tool for probing objects.
These staffs possessed roots.
To later generations, the sprouting of buds from planted staffs seemed utterly mysterious, but this stemmed from an evolution in how people conceptualized staffs.
Even legendary overnight bamboos and pines—said to have been thrust into the ground by eminent monks—were merely mythologized versions of this practice.
Thus did even bows and arrows come to be imagined as implements capable of taking root.

These were the beliefs surrounding ritual staffs.
It was a trial to assess whether the blessing held efficacy.
The manifestation of this effect was referred to both as 'ho' appearing and 'ura' appearing.
This staff was none other than the "Hanasodate" flower staff.
There were times when flowers bloomed at the tip of the staff.
In Mikawa's Hanamatsuri, it was said they attached rice ears to the tips of their staffs, but here, the meaning became unclear.
The flower staff was meant to bless this year’s rice flowers.
The flowers of the Hanamatsuri were symbols of rice flowers.

II

The word "flower," to put it simply, carried meanings close to *ho* and *ura*, seemingly signifying something along the lines of an omen or harbinger.
This became clear when considering that miscanthus and flowering miscanthus were essentially one and the same.
It might well have been termed the harbinger of events.

They said snow was the tribute of a bountiful year.
They believed snow was made to fall by local spirits to show a bountiful year as the village's tribute—that is, to foretell a bountiful year in advance.
Snow was the precursor of rice flowers.
They viewed snow as rice flowers.
Originally, this primarily concerned snow clinging to mountains, but later came to include snow on the ground seen in the same manner.
It was a type of symbol representing rice flowers.
However, there existed many flowers with such meanings.
For example, the spears brought out for winter festivals—particularly the imperial court's Soul-Calming Ritual—were crafted from holly.
When examining the *Nihon Shoki* and *Shoku Nihongi*, we find that offerings called Yahirohokone were presented from various provinces.
These were likely not mere sticks, but holly trees pulled up intact while still standing.
This explains why the character for "root" was attached to the term.
With these, they thudded against the ground and circled around.
The characters for "holly" (柊) and "camellia" (椿) are both national characters created in Japan.

Why did characters such as those for hackberry and catalpa pose such questions? Since these were employed as ritual plants in unique festivals across villages and provinces, people presumably formed them by adding the tree radical alongside seasonal indicators. Of course, while holly flowers bloomed in winter, they likely performed divination through their blooming patterns or by striking the ground with holly spears. When spring arrived, the snow transformed into flowers as previously described. Beyond these existed deutzia blossoms in the Fourth Month, followed by satsuki and tsutsuji azaleas in the Fifth Month.

The flowers of the Hanamatsuri are symbols of rice flowers, but its central role is now fulfilled by the aforementioned myōdō—later adherents of Shugendō.
The earlier form had been carried out by mountain people who preceded yamabushi ascetics.
Because omens regarding that year’s agriculture manifested on these planted staffs, they used them to strike and traverse the land.
While circulating among villagers to display these symbols, they compelled the land spirits to vow: “You shall act thus.”
Tracing back further still, these were revelations from the land spirits themselves.
That year too—just as marked upon these staffs—it stood as a sign that rice flowers would bloom.

In March, cherry blossoms represented the flowering trees.
They planted cherry trees within estate grounds and called them house cherry trees.
The trees planted within estate grounds held special significance.
Originally, cherry trees too were not placed within estate grounds.
It meant they were considered the property of the mountain people.
Therefore, in ancient times, cherry trees existed solely as mountain cherries.
They gazed upon cherry blossoms from afar and used those flowers to divine the rice harvest.
It would be disastrous if the flowers scattered too early.

When one considers this, Nara-period poetry does not extol cherry blossoms.
They were not planted for appreciation but rather for practical purposes—that is, for divination.
When we examine the *Man'yōshū*, we find that fashionable circles extol plum blossoms but pay no tribute to cherry blossoms.
In ancient times, flowers were not for appreciation but for divination.
In the Nara period, the attitude of appreciating flowers was taught through Chinese poetry and prose.

Swaying and bending, spring has arrived, it seems.
At the mountain’s edge, on distant treetops / The blossoms bloom and scatter—when I look (Man'yōshū, Book 10).

There are poems such as this, but this is not a poem praising flowers.
The renowned poem of Fujiwara no Hirotsugu:

"Within a single petal of this flower indeed lie a hundred meanings."
"Do not take this lightly." (Man'yōshū, Book 8)

He gave it to a woman.
This was probably something attached to a cherry blossom branch and sent.

"Within a single petal of this flower—unable to contain a hundred meanings—could one even break it off?" (Man'yōshū, Book 8)

This is a response poem.
Even from examining these two poems, it becomes clear that the flowers are composed with a kind of suggestive effect.
I believe significance lies herein.
Had there been no customs entwined with cherry blossoms, this poem could never have been composed.
The reason these poems contained implications was because cherry blossoms themselves possessed implicative meaning.

When considering this meaning, cherry blossoms were valued for their implicative power.
They were esteemed as harbingers of the year's agricultural yield.
When flowers scattered prematurely, this was deemed an ill omen; even cherry blossoms shedding too early were regarded as troublesome.
This mindset gradually transformed into concerted efforts to prevent the cherry blossoms from scattering.
It was precisely for this reason that their petal fall came to be lamented.

When the Heian period arrived and a literary attitude emerged, people came to regret the scattering of flowers precisely because they were beautiful.
However, in truth, its foundation had existed within such circumstances.
In this sense, while the old custom of lamenting flowers' scattering has gradually disappeared from our literature, it has continued to be transmitted among the common people.

As an example from literature, when we examine the Noh play Taizan Fukun, there existed a story about pleading for the life of cherry blossoms.
Taizan Fukun was equivalent to Yama in Buddhism and was Sekizan Myōjin, which had been transplanted from Tang China to the foothills of Mount Hiei.
There existed a story about Sakuramachi Chūnagon (son of Shinzei), who made a vow to this deity and pleaded for the life of cherry blossoms.
It was truly an elegant tale, but it held no significance in real life.
But there was a reason here.
That is, there had been a necessity to plead for the life of cherry blossoms.
From this custom, when entering into real life, they brought forth Sakuramachi Chūnagon.

III

From the beginning of the Heian period, one notable development was the emergence of flower-calming rituals.
The Flower-Calming Ritual became the source of early modern Buddhist invocation dances and invocation sects, and also exerted influence on Dengaku.

The lyrics of the Flower-Calming Ritual still remain today; they are field songs that conclude with these words.

Hold back.
O blossoms!
Hold back.
O blossoms!

Normally, it was written as “Yasurahi hana ya.”
“Yasurahe” was the imperative form of “yasurafu,” meaning to dawdle.
It meant to dawdle and say, “Wait a moment.”
This was why this Flower-Calming Ritual came to be called the “Yasurahi Festival.”

The deity enshrined in this ritual was none other than the deity of Sai in Miwa, and it must have been a god brought over from Yamato.
They sang songs saying it would be troublesome if the flowers of the rice plants in the fields scattered, and danced.
It gradually underwent artistic transformation and took on religious significance.
Initially performed when the flowers were in bloom, it later came to be conducted after the flowers had scattered.
In this case, it served no purpose.

In the ancient beliefs of the Japanese people, all closely related phenomena were thought to occur in parallel.
For instance, when locusts infested rice fields and epidemics spread among humans, they considered this part of the same phenomenon.
By the late Heian period, sanitation measures had deteriorated so severely that corpses were left discarded in places like the Kamo riverbed and Saiin.
Conventional wisdom claims the Flower-Calming Ritual was performed during spring-summer convergence—their transitional meeting period—to dispel impending epidemics; but this was not truly the case.
Previously, it had held far greater significance.
That is, people originally prayed for the flowers' lingering.
When locust outbreaks coincided with human plagues, the ritual evolved into communal dances meant to expel these afflictions.
From this too, I believe it becomes evident that cherry blossoms were deeply connected to agrarian life.
In this sense, mountain cherry blossoms came to be aesthetically appreciated.

Afterwards, deutzia would bloom, azaleas would bloom, and Satsuki azaleas would bloom.
Deutzia flowers are said to be deutzia flowers because they bloom in the Fourth Month.
I had harbored some doubts regarding this theory, but of late have come to sympathize with this perspective.
I believe there is a connection between the Fourth Month and deutzia flowers.
This 'ut' seems to be related to some kind of rural incantation.
I consider that the name Uzuki (Fourth Month) was formed by combining "this" with "month," and that the "u" in deutzia flowers (unohana) and "ut" are one and the same.

There were things called Uzue (ritual staffs) and Uzuchi (ritual mallets) used during the New Year. While their forms originated from China, their underlying faith remained Japanese. There was meaning in striking. To discard was also called "striking." *Uchiyaru* and *nageutsu* both meant acts of discarding. In ancient times, "utsu" had been used to mean abandonment. Therefore, I consider that Uzue staffs and Uzuchi mallets were tools for striking to drive away what lay upon the earth. Striking the ground was thought both to awaken earth spirits and expel land spirits.

On the Day of the Boar in the Tenth Month, the Gencho Ritual was performed.
To claim it frightened moles was a later fabrication; its true purpose was driving away spirits dwelling underground.
In early spring, they would first strike the ground with staves and leave them be; then when April properly arrived and rice-field rituals commenced, they repeated this practice.
That is to say, they performed the field rituals once more.
This, I hypothesize, is why it came to be called Uzuki - the Fourth Month.

There exists a theory that deutzia flowers - mountain blossoms blooming in Uzuki - are actually hollow-tree flowers, but there's reason people occasionally conflate deutzia with hollow trees.
They fashioned Uzue ritual staves and Uzuchi mallets from hollow trees, wood specifically used to expel demons.
Thus I believe deutzia flowers became symbols of divination.
From the distress caused by deutzia's quick decay emerged even a name for rain - "Deutzia Rotting Shower".
When deutzia flowers bloomed, prolonged rains would fall.
This term was coined by people agonizing over rains that spoiled the deutzia.

From now on, countless symbolic flowers would emerge.
When the Fourth Month began, the women's purification period commenced.
This matter was first noted by Professor Yanagita Kunio.
When I wrote about the origin of tentoubana (Heavenly Way Flower) on April 8th—the day when the custom of attaching azalea flowers to the tips of poles and displaying them outdoors was practiced—Professor Yanagita pointed out that this was related to the tradition of women’s mountain seclusion during this period, whereby these women would bring back azalea flowers upon returning from the mountains.
Because of this, my thinking changed.

IV

As part of women's purification practices, the ritual to select Satsuki maidens—those who would plant rice fields—was conducted on a certain day in mid-Fourth Month as "mountain seclusion." When descending from the mountains afterward, they would return adorned with azalea flowers. Mountain seclusion originally meant maidens sequestering themselves in the mountains for a day to obtain specific qualifications. However, later generations forgot this purpose, reducing the practice of spending a day secluded in mountains or fields to mere recreational outings. The term "mountain excursion" preserves this tradition's vestiges. Thus what had become a spring leisure activity was once an occasion when all village women left their homes for mountain seclusion—that is, they conducted it before Satsuki rice planting to designate the Satsuki maidens.

Upon returning from this mountain seclusion, the maidens would come back with mountain azaleas adorning their heads.
This served as proof that they were maidens serving the rice field deity.
And from this point onward, they would once again begin their life of strict purification.
These adorned flowers would sometimes be offered at household altars or stood in rice fields.
This became a kind of omen for bountiful yields.

This day, centered around April 8th, was commonly called the day of “mountain seclusion.” On this day, village maidens obtained qualification as Satsuki maidens. The euphonic combination producing forms like *sōtome* and *sawotome* could not occur in the early modern period. A maiden meant a woman who served in rituals; similarly, a man meant one who served in rituals. When maidens went to gather flowers and returned adorned with them, this signified their acquisition of sacred qualification—at which time the “Rite of Womanhood” was conferred. This practice was conducted two or three times annually though originally performed once, with the custom being to live while avoiding men.

Maidens adorned themselves with flowers as a sign of their quest to obtain that qualification.
Azaleas were used.
They were a type of mountain vine.
Because there was some secret ritual involved here, inserting flowers at that time marked their conferral of the Rite of Womanhood.
As this took on a form renewed annually, it became something received each year—though within one's lifetime, it also came to be received twice.
However, in ancient times, even when the same woman performed the duty, people believed a different person was born anew each year.

Boys underwent the hakama ceremony around ages five to ten, and girls performed the mo ceremony.
These hakama and mo ceremonies were conducted not only once during childhood but also once again after reaching maturity.
Noble boys wore black headgear for the Rite of Adulthood.
Its shape followed that of traditional Japanese wigs, tied at the back, identical to plant vines coiled around the head.
The shape of the vines worn during the purification period had combined with the form of Chinese headgear, resulting in the black headgear.

In contrast, women wore *hane-kazura*.
In the *Man'yōshū*, the term *hane-kazura* appeared in four instances.

Having dreamt of my beloved now adorning *hane-kazura* vines, how my heart aches with longing throughout. (Yakamochi—Book 4)

O my beloved, now adorning *hane-kazura* vines—yet there was none.
What manner of beloved is this, who has loved so many? (Dōjo Hōka)

Adorning *hane-kazura* vines now, my beloved in her youthful prime—ah, how clear the sound of the Sawa River! (Book 7)

Adorning *hane-kazura* vines now, my beloved in her youthful prime—smiling at times, raging at others—unties the cord she had fastened. (Book 11)

That is, it took forms such as "my beloved now adorning *hane-kazura* vines."
There existed a theory that this *hane-kazura* likely referred to *hana-kazura*.
Be that as it may, while it remained unclear whether this involved wearing *hane-kazura*, it appeared to signify at least a mark of purification from the era of pure maidens—a time when hands could not touch them.

If one violates a maiden, one incurs grave impurity.
Once in Odawara, I heard hunters singing this song:
"Shimoda's offshore Kenashi Island,
Without ke—ke-ke-ke-ke—lies the ritual cup.
Rub that cup—rub-rub—and seven days' impurity.
Not just seven days' impurity—a lifetime's impurity!"
This Kenashi Island represented the period of maidenhood.
Thus, violating a maiden required seven days' purification—indeed, women who didn't serve in rituals weren't considered true women.
Through ritual service, they received the divine Rite of Womanhood.
Only after enduring this divine trial could they first consort with men.

Maidens adorned themselves with hane-kazura before undergoing the Rite of Womanhood. Once the rite was completed, they would remove the headdress. Though hane-kazura might not be flowers, they were at least plants. However, their precise significance ultimately eludes modern understanding. In those days, this custom alone sufficed for universal comprehension. In any case, this practice—like the black headgear for men—served as a mark of women's ritual purification.

In Iki, when an unmarried person died, they would have them don a headcloth bag around the neck, plucking flowers along the way to place inside. This stemmed from the belief that men dying without wives journeyed to hell to dig bamboo shoots barehanded. People called this bag a "flower-picking bag," claiming it aided these souls. Similar accounts circulated in Shinano Province's Matsumoto region. Without flowers, we could not reach where villagers had gone. That is to say, floral wreaths were essential for accessing the dwelling place of communal souls.

In Okinawa, children's graves and adults' graves were distinguished.
The custom of flower-picking bags came to utilize alms bags after the introduction of Buddhism.
Nowadays, only men’s customs remain.
In any case, whether men or women, flowers were thought to have become a sign of having received the Rite of Adulthood.
This was both a ritual to appoint sacred officiants for summer rice planting and an observance attached to ceremonies for discerning omens of bountiful harvests.
The planting of azalea flowers on the banks of rice fields also stemmed from this custom.
Azaleas saw their association with spears and staffs diminish over time, drawing closer instead to adornments.

V

The camellia flower undoubtedly corresponds to what we now call sasanqua.
The characters 海石榴 represent its authentic orthography.
This camellia carried profound significance.
Markets known as Tsubaki existed in both Yamato and Bungo.
These markets served as sites where mountain people would appear to perform soul-calming rituals before withdrawing.
Their very names originated from the staffs these mountain folk brought.
I posit that these markets came to be called Tsubaki because [the practitioners] arrived bearing camellia staffs and conducted soul-shaking rites.
Consulting the *Bungo Fudoki* renders the nature of Tsubaki Markets clearly intelligible.

Camellia branches held profound significance in folk traditions until the early modern period and were regarded as possessions of Yao Bikuni.
Yao Bikuni remained rather enigmatic but emerged during the Muromachi period; judging by her form, she undoubtedly represented a Buddhist reinterpretation of the mountain witch.
She was an eternally youthful or undying long-lived being—a fusion of Kumano’s nenbutsu bikuni who traveled through various provinces and the concept of the mountain witch.
The mountain witch would bring camellia branches from the mountains to proclaim spring’s arrival.
For spring announcements, sasanqua proved ideal because it bloomed early.
That is, through camellias did the mountain witch reveal hidden truths.

There was a relationship between saliva spat from the mouth and camellia flowers; it was a fact that human saliva contained divinatory meaning.
"Tsuwatsuba" formed the etymological root, with "tsubaki" denoting saliva.
Since camellias revealed hidden truths, people reasoned that saliva too must hold divinatory significance.
Though uncertain when these concepts merged, the era was ancient—the very syllable *tsu* bore divinatory connotations.
Thus emerged the character for "tsubaki."
As this was a tree employed in spring rites, the phonetic character 椿 came to be used.

I think that the ancient faith in camellias survived alongside the religion of Kumano.
Male missionaries of Kumano might have walked carrying nagi trees, and female missionaries carrying camellias.
This was my hypothesis.
In any case, since the mountain people brought camellia spears, it became known as the Tsubaki Market.

The hackberry tree too was not as we describe it today.
There were many trees whose names began with the "e" sound.
The Japanese hackberry and a type of oak tree shared the same name.
This appeared related to ritual purification.
The willow served as a tree of ritual purification.
It was not an arrow tree but rather one of purification—a tree for taboo observance.
The sacred nagī came to be replaced by the willow.
In the Man'yōshū and Kokinshū anthologies, though written as "aoyagi," "yagi" struck one as unnatural.

In rice fields where azaleas were absent, they planted willows. This principle applied to expressions like “Komanga Willow in the Fields” from the *Shichibu-shū*. The practice of planting willows in paddies persists even today. Willows—with their profuse branches and quick-rooting nature—were themselves considered a form of flower. Tracing this tradition reveals that all New Year decorations derive from ritual purification trees. Objects like rice-cake blossoms, decorative boughs, cocoon ornaments, saplings, and crafted branches served as floral substitutes through their abundant twigs. Finding these insufficient, they added shaped rice cakes and attachments resembling rice spikes, millet heads, barnyard millet clusters, and silkworm cocoons—the quintessential form of purification trees. When summer arrived, willows dominated this role. In Kumano’s religious practices however, they employed hackberry trees as their sacred wood. I believe even the phonetic quality of “enoki” (hackberry) evokes associations with ritual purification trees.

In autumn, catalpa is employed.
Catalpa was a type of azusa.
For making into staffs, it was an extremely suitable tree.
They probably used catalpa trees in autumn festivals.

Even when examining the Man'yōshū and Kaifūsō, one finds legends concerning the Chokushi Fairy Maiden.
In ancient Japan, marriages between deities and humans followed a pattern where gods would first transform into other entities before assuming human form.
The Chokushi Fairy Maiden embodies religious beliefs surrounding staffs fashioned from chokushi wood.

When consulting the Man'yōshū, one encounters the adverbial expression hana ni ("as flowers").
Terms like hanazuma ("flower wife") and hananishi mo wa ("even as flowers") belong to this category.
A wife meant only for gazing upon—one who remains untouchable despite being wed—this constitutes what we call a flower wife.
The conventional interpretation of hagi no hanazuma ("bush clover flower wife") posits bush clover blossoms serving as floral companions to deer—a symbolic representation of cervine unions—yet this theory remains unsatisfactory.
Though bush clover flowers cling close to deer in poetic imagery, there likely exists wordplay here suggesting their relationship falls short of true matrimony.

At Ashigara's Hakone peaks where nikogusa grows—
This meant that if she had been a flower wife, one would have remained unaware; but precisely because she was not, one could not sleep without unraveling [the truth].
The "flower" in "flower wife" approached the word's ancient meaning.
It signified a wife who could not be touched—a wife who could only be looked upon.
That is to say, a woman during her time as a virgin.
The term 'hana ni' came to denote fragility, ephemerality, deception, or superficiality, but in truth, 'hana ni' cannot be deciphered through modern language—it originally conveyed that while the omen had appeared thus, the actual outcome turned out otherwise.
The word "flower" in its earliest usage did not refer to blossoming flowers themselves, but rather emerged as an omen and precursor—it was the harbinger tree.
As proof that it did not signify blooming flowers, there existed what was called a 'flower tree'.
This was a type of fragrant wood—not a flower—where plants such as Japanese star anise were employed.

The shikimi flower is not a conspicuous enough bloom to warrant attention; it is closer to sakaki.
It was a sacred tree that served as an omen and was a type of sakaki.
In ancient times, among trees deemed significant, there were many that bore no flowers; they were not confined solely to those that bloomed.
In ancient times, the word "flower" most frequently appeared as an adverb.
From its role as a harbinger of things, it came to be used for empty phenomena—a detached term.

Among autumn flowers existed the seven autumn herbs.
In contrast, there were also the seven spring herbs.
The seven spring herbs served as apotropaic objects in the early modern period.
While the seven autumn herbs held no apotropaic significance, one could not assume they were listed purely for aesthetic appreciation.
This point had not yet been fully examined.

The use of trees and their blossoms in rituals served two purposes: calming souls and symbolically foretelling the year's agricultural yield.
For soul-calming, practitioners primarily employed spears, while floral omens were used for divination.
Regarding trees themselves, these two aspects remained distinctly divided.

VI

Winter constitutes contact.
Winter and *furu* are identical in essence.
Winter signifies the act of attaching things, though originally it denoted division.
*Furu* involves attaching mana (external souls) to human bodies; when winter arrives to renew all things, it imbues even souls with potent spiritual forces from beyond.
This dual pronunciation of *furu* and *fuyu* inherently signifies attachment.
Through gradual transformation, soul-related beliefs too evolved—people began dividing and bestowing portions of their own souls.
Thus branches formed upon souls.
These branched autonomously.
Winter thereby acquired connotations of proliferation through branching.

The act of attaching souls was the Soul-Calming Ritual.
This was called tamafuri (soul-shaking), a ritual performed in midwinter.
Tamafuri involved attaching mana within, while China's soul-calming sought to prevent the internal soul from escaping.
As this evolved, seasonal transitions caused internal souls to disperse; thus emerged rituals to calm souls and prevent this dissipation.
This became tamashizume (soul-calming).

In shifting from tamafuri to tamashizume, they contemplated winter's proliferating branches.
Originally, people would attach souls for others.
This transformed into dividing and bestowing portions of their own proliferated souls.
Mitama no fuyu—the proliferation of souls—was this.
The notion of winter festivals enshrining souls remained inseparably intertwined.
The Soul Ritual enshrined both living and dead souls.
Heian-period practitioners considered performing solely the Soul Ritual.
Its meaning had solidified into classical form.

In the past, they wrote "mitama no fuyu" as "Onrai" (Imperial Bestowal).
They considered *mitama no fuyu* to mean receiving the Emperor's favor, but in truth, the term *Onrai* refers to receiving branched-off souls from the Emperor or noble individuals.
*Mitama no fuyu* denotes the act of apportioning divided souls among people—these separated souls, these proliferated souls.
If one received a share of partitioned souls, they too would achieve greatness; this became why it came to be designated as Imperial Bestowal.

Tamafuri carried both the purpose of performing soul-calming and the significance of dividing souls. I believe that "winter" among the four seasons—spring, summer, autumn, and winter—was a name created during the era when people conceived of the division of souls.

In winter, mountain people emerged holding yamatsutsumi. The parasitic tree within the mountain bundle (called *hoyo* in antiquity) was termed *fuyu* in the sense of being a tree that divided souls. The Japanese nutmeg-yew used in decorations for the New Year also carried the meaning of transformation—returning to the origin, that is, rotation and return. It conjugated as *kaha*, *kahi*, *kahu*, *kahu*, *kahe* while simultaneously inflecting as *kahe*, *kahe*, *kahu*, *kahuru*, *kahure*; therefore, whether written as *kaheru* or *kahuru*, they were treated the same. The kaya tree was a sign-tree for things returning to their origin. Using this wood, they caused various effects. The tree for dividing souls was a parasitic tree; the kaya was employed to signify spring’s return. In this way, the explanation of plants from year-end through spring gradually came into view.

These trees are referred to as spell-performing trees that serve as ritual implements.
Ritual implements are items held in the hand when performing dances, and they manifest the power of sorcery.
Here, traces of things associated with plants as tōtemizumu can be seen.

Regarding totemism, my unwavering view is this: it does not posit that we and our ancestors diverged from some primordial form among minerals, animals, or plants; nor does it propose that we branched off from something required for our living conditions—that is, that these living conditions exist in parallel with us. I maintain that tōtemizumu is something intimately connected to our *mana* beliefs. Within the same *mana* as ours dwell those inhabiting animals, those inhabiting plants, and even some residing in minerals. And they believed that if one used plants or animals sharing this *mana*, magical power would be imparted. This was called *naru* in ancient parlance. "To *naru*" entails inherent existence while also involving the entry of things into its core. That is, they believed that wielding ritual implements (*tagusa*)—be they animals, plants, or minerals possessing the same *tōtemu*—would cause tremendous power to enter their bodies.

Tōtemu could also enter entities beyond humans, and in Japan, this led to a clear bifurcation between animal worship and plant worship.
In Japan too there remained traces of light rays being used in *tōtemu*, while in matters of faith, numerous animals and plants emerged.
When these manifested as animals, they served as *tsukawashime*; when as plants, they became ritual implements.
This system gradually transformed until numerous ritual implements came into being.
Here emerged the relationship between plants and human festivals.
And thus through rational adaptation over time, it evolved.

In this process emerged divergent concepts: that thrusting a ritual staff once would awaken souls, and that blooming flowers would become omens for that year's crops.
This marked their entry into primitive religious thought from totemist concepts.
From this notion of freely manipulating human souls arose the ideas of *hoyo* bundles and *hana* blossoms.
The Yabirako-ne staff—crafted from holly wood—was said to make flowers bloom when thrust into the earth while still part of a living tree.
They established these blossoms as agricultural harbingers.
The holly served dual ritual purposes: preliminary soul-anchoring acts and floral ceremonial functions.
Thus it became deeply revered.

The Mikawa no Oku no Hanamatsuri was originally held at the end of the eleventh month but came to take place in spring in recent times. However, when considered by its timing, it was a festival that indicated the state of rice blossoms at the transition from winter to spring. The mountain people attached flowers to the tips of bamboo sticks they had prepared in advance and walked around thrusting them into the ground. This was the central ritual, founded on the belief that the land spirits would respond to it and cause the five grains to flourish splendidly.

The sakaki is a tree of dialogue between gods and spirits and between gods and people. The etymology of *sakaki* remains unclear, but it serves as a kind of mediating mechanism. When examining the Noh play *Hyakuman*, there was a ritual act where striking a madwoman’s back with sakaki caused her to begin speaking. That was one example.

Even among trees called sakaki, there are many varieties. If one consults Koyamada Yoshikiyo’s *Sanshikō* (*Three Trees Study*), the names of all trees classified as sakaki are listed. In Mikawa’s Flower Festival too, when struck with sakaki, the demons begin to speak; then, centering on the sakaki, they engage in dialogue. Through the sakaki, words are conveyed. In other words, the sakaki serves as an imitation tree—an explanatory arboreal medium.

The tachibana differs yet again—it stands unmistakably as a tree that blesses life. They called its fruit “the fruit of the fragrant ever-bearing tree.” Tajima Mori—whom I have named an Izushi person—was a man of Tajima; archaeologists assert he belonged to ancient immigrants of Han Chinese descent. He who numbered among these people’s ancestors journeyed to Tokoyo-no-kuni at Emperor Suinin’s command and retrieved the fruit of this fragrant ever-bearing tree. *Tokijiku* signifies “everlasting presence,” while *kagu* denotes “bearing fine fragrance.” When Tajima Mori returned only to find His Majesty had already passed away, he wept and dedicated them before the imperial mausoleum—a tale renowned in legend.

The *Nihongi* records that four ornamental headdresses and four ritual staffs were dedicated to the Grand Empress Dowager, and four ornamental headdresses and four ritual staffs were dedicated to the imperial mausoleum.
Even when speaking of *hoko*, they were not limited to mere sticks; indeed, *kage* were even called helmets.
Tajima Mori bent slender tachibana branches into headdresses, fashioned eight ornamental headdresses and eight ritual staffs, and presented them.
When later generations trace this practice—now nearly vanished—its details remain unclear, but Tokoyo-no-kuni was considered a realm of extended lifespans operating under a different calendar from our world.
They believed the fruit of Tokoyo's trees would never fall.
This was likely something the Izushi people erected at noble burial sites to rouse souls.
From this perspective, we can imagine Tajima Mori's story contained not just Urashima-type elements but soul-conjuring rites, while revealing how the tachibana tree embodied blessings for longevity.

Miscanthus, too, was connected to religious beliefs.
In the Eastern Songs of the *Man'yōshū*,

"The sasara miscanthus of Kawauchi that my beloved uses."
"If only the miscanthus would speak a word" (Book 14)

there is one that says:
Since this was a type of small miscanthus at the river mouth which my beloved used for vows, it would suffice if the plant could simply utter one word as 'ashi.'
The sasara miscanthus served as a prelude poem while simultaneously constituting the content itself.
It was a prelude employed precisely because of the belief that miscanthus conveyed divine messages.

When observing phenomena within Japanese religious practices, the miscanthus that swayed gently come autumn somehow seemed to catch the eye.
The swaying of autumn grasses—their soft rustling—was expressed through terms such as *soso* and *sosoya*.
Since terms like *soso* and *sosoya* expressed divine messages, it was thought that miscanthus and bush clover carried these associations.
The act of *soshiru*—to ritually censure—was itself considered a divine message. The name *Ogi* signified summoning souls; *Ogi* and *ogu* were likewise used to rouse spirits in ceremonial contexts.
Therefore, miscanthus too had some religious connection.

In Kagura there exists a dance called "Karakami," and it is recorded in Heian-period literature that the Karakami danced while holding withered miscanthus leaves. The Karakami was likely used in Korean-style festivals, but it is thought there existed a belief in summoning deities through miscanthus. In these practices too, one can discern vestiges of totemism.

Seven

There are many artificial flowers.
Among these, the one that has existed since ancient times and been transmitted longest is carved decorations.
They carve willow trees and such to produce abundant fringes.
This is called *kezurikake* or carved flowers.
This entered into Ainu religious practices and became what they call *inau*.
This was not something indigenous to the Ainu, but rather Japanese forms of rice ear belief that permeated Ainu practices.
*Inau* are akin to Japanese sacred staffs (*gohei*), yet they are not *gohei*.
In Kōshū, they are called *abo* or *hebo*, likely signifying millet ears or barnyard grass ears.
There are various manners of carving.
Rice ears are one such type.
This was not something that made its way into Ainu practices in modern times.

Upon Mount Tsukuba, snow may be falling.
Refusal and assent may be.
May the beloved children's cloth be drying (Book 14).

Such a song exists within the Eastern Songs of the *Man'yōshū*.
Scholars aware of the Ainu's wooden ritual staffs took this poem as evidence that the Ainu once inhabited this vicinity; however, this was of course not the case.

Carved flowers had existed since ancient times.
In the "Mononame" section of Book Ten of the *Kokinshū*, there was a headnote stating: "When it was reported that [the Crown Prince’s residence of the Nijo Empress] was her place of recuperation, someone had carved flowers made at Medo, and [she] composed a poem."

Though it be no flowering tree,
it has blossomed.
Would that it were
the time when
the aged tree bears fruit
(Fun'ya no Yasuhide)

There is one that says:

Medo refers to Uma no Michi, where carved flowers hung in dim corridors became poetic subjects. By this period, people had already begun questioning carved decorations' origins, later rationalizing them as floral forms. Why create flower-like objects? They served as blessings. I believe an earlier prototype existed before these—the frayed tips of staffs that mountain ascetics thrust into the ground became floral symbols. When using an Uzue staff to probe the earth, its tip would fray while roots took hold below. This fraying became the primal flower symbol. Crafted from bamboo, it transformed into a sasara—another divinatory flower variant. At funerals, people made frayed baskets where the tip's splitting pattern held crucial meaning. I believe this splitting manner formed a divination method.

In connection with this account, what must be noted is how frequently the term "hayashi" appears when examining the Eastern Songs and border guard poems in the Man'yōshū.

Having established renown at Kibe's ritual grove of Aratama, one found oneself unable to depart.
Do not go forth to rest.

This poem remains profoundly enigmatic.
The phrase "Aratama no Kibe no hayashi" might suggest Kibe's grove in Aratama District—though this interpretation remains uncertain.
However, I maintain that Kibe did not exist within Aratama District itself, but rather that poets associated it with a location of identical name in Tōtōmi.
The boundary marker erected at village limits was called "ki."
There, when bidding farewell to travelers, people would plant severed trees to anchor souls.
By these fences, they established trees within ritual groves.
They likely believed this act caused spirits to remain fixed in place.
This, I contend, constitutes the true meaning of "Kibe no Hayashi."
"Do not linger conducting rituals in such places—make haste to enter the village."
The verse signifies that leaving one's companion stationed there would render advance travel unbearable.

In Kamitsukeno's Sano, break and ritually prepare the kukutachi plant - I will wait.
Even if you do not come this year,

[Someone] breaks off kukutachi (possibly a plant name) and brings it, and even if there is no word, I will wait—so it declares.
This was because in a place called Yasu, there existed a belief in transferring a certain type of soul.

When I see the pine tree drooping,

Namu (nami) refers to bending—equivalent to yielding—and being in a limp, pliant state.
Mokoro is a term of augury.
It denotes proper divination where hexagrams and words align perfectly; this exact correspondence constitutes mokoro.
Mokoro was originally—without doubt—an augural term.

The phrase "seeing me off" does not mean modern farewells.
It signifies remaining behind to protect me.
To watch from afar, ensuring no harm befalls that person—this is what true seeing-off entails.
"Tachitarishi" equates to "taterishi."
The family members stood vigil—limp and yielding like the pine—their presence so vivid one might say I saw them keeping watch to shield me from harm.

In later periods in the Eastern Provinces, when someone from a household journeyed afar, they would erect a shrine before the house and keep it there until that person's return. This form persisted even in early modern Ise pilgrimages. To retain the soul, they would cut down a tree and set it up at the house gate. This action constituted soul retention. When interpreted thus, many poems in the *Man'yōshū* that had remained unsolved until today began to unravel considerably.

In this manner, there existed numerous customs that used tree blossoms for blessings, attempted to divine future events, and performed tamafuri rituals. With this, I believe I have generally covered matters concerning flowers related to rituals, focusing on those of the four seasons.