島根の神楽に見る地域文化の差：出雲と石見Examining Regional Cultural Differences Through Kagura

Today, I am in the western part of Shimane Prefecture. This area of western Shimane was once known as “Iwami Province” (石見国, Iwami-no-kuni), while the region around Izumo Taisha Shrine was called “Izumo Province” (出雲国, Izumo-no-kuni). At first glance, since these two areas aren’t very far apart geographically, one might think there wouldn’t be significant cultural differences between them, but during this journey, as I listen to local Iwami people talk, the existence of entirely distinct cultural spheres becomes apparent. For instance, people from Iwami say that when they hear the Izumo dialect spoken, it’s hard for them even to understand what is being said, and they also mention significant differences in temperament. Certainly, looking from the perspective of natural landscapes, considerable distinctions have emerged between the basin-like region of Izumo, featuring large lakes such as Lake Shinji, and Iwami Province, where fishing villages stretch along the coastline backed immediately by deep mountain ranges. In terms of language, although much of the difference has diminished today due to the spread of standard Japanese (標準語, Tokyo dialect) through media, many traces of cultural distinctions still remain.

One prominent example is “Kagura” (神楽). Japanese Kagura has its origins in the “Ama-no-Iwato myth” (天岩戸神話), as recorded in ancient texts such as Kojiki and Nihon Shoki. It is widely recognized as a traditional performing art dedicated to the kami during shrine festivals. Various styles of Kagura have been preserved across Japan, and Shimane Prefecture, long known as the “Land of the kami,” has developed unique regional Kagura traditions, including Izumo Kagura in the eastern region, Iwami Kagura in the west, and Oki Kagura on the Oki Islands.

A crucial point highlighting the significant difference between Izumo Kagura and Iwami Kagura is the tempo (“choshi,” 調子) of their performances. Izumo Kagura, passed down in eastern Shimane Prefecture, is based on a majestic and solemn rhythm known as “Rokuchoshi” (六調子, literally “six-beat tempo”). In contrast, Iwami Kagura features bold, dynamic dances characterized by a much faster-paced “Hatchoshi” (八調子, literally “eight-beat tempo”) rhythm, creating a dramatically different impression. Along Shimane Prefecture’s coast, the boundary between the Rokuchoshi and Hatchoshi traditions lies around the city of Oda, but intriguingly, upon entering the mountainous areas, even within Iwami, the Rokuchoshi tradition from Izumo reappears. This suggests the movement of ancient people tied to Izumo, traceable through the Kagura style, making this region profoundly intriguing from a cultural-historical perspective.

Izumo Kagura primarily developed from a sacred Kagura known as “Sada Shin Noh” (佐陀神能), handed down at Sada Shrine, an ancient shrine situated near Lake Shinji in Izumo. It is traditionally preserved as a theatrical form depicting dramatic scenes from Japanese mythology. Conversely, while Iwami Kagura is believed by some to have formed from a fusion of the Izumo-originated Sada Kagura and various performing arts like farmers’ Dengaku (田楽) dances, its precise origins remain uncertain. Personally, I speculate that a major reason lies in the distinct origins of ancient regions, whose cultural differences manifested not only in language but also clearly in their Kagura traditions. Today, I watched Kagura performances in a small mountain village called Haza in Shimane Prefecture. Interestingly, though fundamentally belonging to the Hatchoshi tradition of Iwami Kagura, this region preserves the rare Rokuchoshi style as well.

In recent times, Iwami Kagura has become particularly famous, overshadowing Izumo Kagura, which remains relatively unknown. Additionally, Kagura performances now often take place year-round, tailored to tourist visitors. However, originally, Kagura was performed only at specific times as a divine offering. So when exactly was Kagura traditionally performed?

In fact, Kagura was originally dedicated during rural autumn festivals, performed as an offering to the kami in prayer and thanksgiving for bountiful harvests. This practice continues today in the Yunotsu area of the Iwami region, where an autumn harvest festival is still held at local shrines’ Kagura stages after the rice harvest is completed. While Kagura performances aimed at tourists typically last about an hour, Kagura was historically performed from nightfall, illuminated by torches, and continued throughout the night. The village community gathered around these all-night Kagura performances, strengthening communal bonds significantly through this shared cultural experience.

In earlier times, Kagura was performed by shrine priests (神官) and shrine maidens (巫女), but during the Shinto reforms of the Meiji era, priests were prohibited from performing Kagura, causing its transmission to shift into the hands of villagers. Further, following World War II, as people migrated from rural areas to urban centers, Kagura performances gradually became detached from local shrine festivals (氏神祭, Ujigami-sai). Increasingly, Kagura began to be performed in urban theaters and events, adapting into highly entertaining spectacles to ensure its survival. For example, Iwami Kagura is featured today at the current Osaka Expo, and was also showcased during the 1970 Osaka Expo. As a result, even within Iwami Kagura, the original ritualistic dances have been significantly simplified, evolving into mythology-based dramas primarily designed to appeal to contemporary audiences.

At first glance, this may seem like a loss of authentic culture. However, considering that Kagura traditions survive primarily in regions severely affected by depopulation, efforts to attract tourists and increase regional interaction through Kagura as a tourism resource have become essential for its survival. Thus, Kagura—originating as a ritual performance dedicated to the kami—continues to explore its role, situated at the intersection between the preservation of tradition and regional revitalization amidst modern challenges.

In philosophical terms, Kagura embodies three significant concepts: “immediacy” (現前性), “mediation” (媒介性), and “liminality” (越境性). Firstly, Kagura demonstrates immediacy, bringing the presence of the kami directly into the present moment. One hypothesis regarding the origin of the word “Kagura” links it to “Kamukura” (神座), meaning “seat of the kami,” suggesting that the stage of Kagura itself is a sacred place where kami descend. As the dances unfold under torchlight and lanterns, spectators often sense that divine spirits have descended into the performers, experiencing awe and elation as if the kami themselves were manifesting before their eyes.

Secondly, Kagura acts as a medium, conveying divine intentions to humans. In some Kagura performances, dancers become “possessed” by kami (神懸), transmitting divine messages to the audience, clearly illustrating Kagura’s role as an intermediary between kami and humans. The act of performers donning masks and literally embodying kami can also be understood as a ritualistic performance, through which dancers transcend themselves and unite with the divine. Thirdly, Kagura embodies liminality, crossing various boundaries. During performances, distinctions between mythical times and modernity, sacred spaces (神域) and everyday spaces, and ordinary life and extraordinary experiences dissolve and merge. These unique characteristics allow Kagura to provide profound spiritual experiences for people, granting it philosophical significance beyond mere communal entertainment.

Tomorrow, I plan to attend more Kagura performances in mountain villages, but personally, I already feel that Kagura continues to embody the close proximity between Japanese people and their kami. Kagura performances in Shimane typically feature the mythological story of “Orochi” (大蛇, the Great Serpent), depicted as a deity with eight heads and eight tails. Watching today’s performance of “Orochi,” it was intriguing to see the serpent deity teasing and interacting playfully with the audience, strongly evoking a sense of kami being close and accessible to humans. To the Japanese, kami are neither unreachable nor absolutely transcendent; rather, they are very near, familiar, yet awe-inspiring entities, reflecting a complex relationship.

As I seriously contemplated the ancient cultural layers of Japan conveyed through Kagura, I experienced a mystical sensation, as if the kami themselves were present, merging intimately with the audience. Remembering how these performances historically lasted through the night, I felt moved as I envisioned the figure of the “Raihoshin” (来訪神, visiting deities) who would appear every year during a designated season, playing together joyfully with village residents.

My exploration into Shimane’s mysterious cultural depths has only just begun, yet today alone I have gained invaluable insights from many locals, reinforcing my belief that ancient Japan possessed distinctly varied cultural spheres across its regions. What exactly are the ancient foundations Japanese people possess, and how have they sustained their cultural heritage? As long as my relentless curiosity persists, my journey to unravel the entirety of this unknown will continue.