延岡：移動と日本の三つの都市Nobeoka and a Day Across Three Japanese Cities

Today I am in Nobeoka, Miyazaki Prefecture. Yesterday I traveled long distances by train from Osaka to Tokyo, then to Fukuoka and Oita, and today I entered Miyazaki in southern Kyushu, but even just moving through these three major Japanese cities—Tokyo in the east, Osaka in the west, and Fukuoka in Kyushu—in a single day reveals many of the current problems of Japan. Last week I also stayed in Fukuoka and Oita, and I personally found the coastal region stretching from Kokura to Oita to be particularly attractive.

And today, having traveled further south by train into Miyazaki, I immediately sensed that the atmosphere had changed drastically. Known as a treasure house of Japanese mythology, Miyazaki is also a deeply memorable place for me, because it was my visit here seven years ago that sparked the beginning of the Japanese research that has continued to this day. In that sense, Miyazaki is my personal land of beginnings, but historically speaking, it is not only for me.

This is the land connected to Kamu-Yamato Iwarehiko, who is said to have invaded eastward from Hyuga (part of Miyazaki Prefecture) into Yamato, eventually seizing control and becoming the first emperor. Furthermore, the mountainous areas such as Takachiho are also important places tied to the divine origins of the emperor. While I have visited Takachiho again since then, it has been a long time since I came to the coastal areas of Miyazaki. Returning once more to this land is deeply moving, and above all, compared to when I first came, I now feel strongly how much I have changed myself.

Though only about seven years have passed, so I cannot say I have reached great depths, I—who have never had an academic background, or rather could not adapt to academia—have relied on walking and traveling, steadily building my own independent knowledge until now. This is all to contribute, grounded in the thoughts and achievements of those before me, to clarifying the realities of Japan, but through this daily accumulation, I have recently come to strongly recognize a mission that only I can fulfill. And I feel deeply that this is thanks to the yaoyorozu no kami (八百萬の神) beyond my own power. Being able to visit here again is also divine guidance, and in that sense, I feel that a new stage begins here. Unlike when I first visited knowing nothing, now that I have traveled across not only Kyushu but all of Japan, my perspective itself has changed greatly, and the world I see has been completely transformed.

What I have gradually come to feel on this endless journey is that in these turbulent times, there are many roles that only I, as someone born and raised in this country, can fulfill. Yet while the work ahead is immense, I have only one body. That is why I consider improving health not only for myself but as a responsibility for the future, and yesterday I prepared for a blood test at a clinic in Tokyo. Places with the most advanced medicine and knowledge are difficult to find outside Tokyo, so I feel that Tokyo will from now on serve as a base for adjusting my health.

We do indeed live in an era where many people can travel anytime and anywhere, but at the same time there are many things the homogenized majority do not engage in, and I believe that experimenting with these matters ahead of others is important for the next era. My personal interest, above all, is in how to create a parallel way of being that “lives at multiple speeds simultaneously.” The reason is that it is becoming increasingly clear that the world is quite different from what has been thought mainly through Western standards, and in various places including Japan, a movement to look again at a world that Western standards alone cannot grasp is gradually beginning to sprout. More importantly, being confined only to the visible world is a serious illness of the modern age, and while the issue of how to balance the visible and invisible worlds has long been raised, beyond that, I feel that what is needed is a way of thinking that does not even presuppose such binary opposition. Only when this territory is embraced does the exploration of living while sensing a pluralistic world become possible, and in this approach, authentic Japanese culture and Japanese thought can support people. In fact, I believe this is uniquely Japanese.

In reality, when I go out for research, what is generally called “individual will” becomes nullified. As I have repeatedly said, the Japanese language has no subject. We Japanese have lived in a predicative realm, once moving freely back and forth within it. In other words, the deep exhaustion of Japanese people today stems from the fact that although originally there is no subject, since the modern era they have been imprisoned in a fabricated world where the subject is assumed to exist. If we regain this sensitivity (霊感), I believe Japanese people can restore their original power, but as I travel around the country, I acutely feel how difficult this is. Viewed differently, this issue is directly connected to how to renew our relationship with the West, with which Japan has influenced and been influenced since the modern era. To see the West and Japan as equal places among places: this position must be presented in daily life by grasping the visible and invisible worlds at once.

Above all, a research journey within the predicative realm does not mean deciding destinations based on the will of the subject. In Japanese spiritualism, the predicative expression “to be called by the kami” (神に呼ばれる) is often used, and the feeling is exactly like that. In other words, instead of being trapped in the expansion of a fabricated subject-world, when one thinks from the predicative realm and the path opens to insight into everything from a fundamentally different world, one can finally understand the true meaning that the currently believed world does not exist. The places I visit are places I am called to by the kami, and when I go to the right place at the right time, that kami shows me the next path. It is like a relay of kami, and this is exactly the Japanese way of thinking that has long sustained the yaoyorozu faith. Therefore, what we can do is to continue going to places when called, and that accumulation ultimately becomes the path to knowing Japan. This, in fact, has been my greatest realization over these seven years.

If one investigates with a selfish posture based on the subject, no new path will open, and not only will the mysteries of Japan not appear, but what is understood as Japan there will not be Japan at all. It opens a false road of shallow, inverted understanding. Even in a brief time in Tokyo yesterday, I felt this. In a city of overtourism, where crowds stream through, the room to stop and ask a question has itself been lost. In Harajuku, within the flow of people heading to Meiji Jingu, the questions of what kind of place it is and with what thought one goes there hardly arise. That is the situation overcrowded tourism produces.

Put simply, a flow of people heading to places before they are called has been built into the system, and the chance to sense the divine is growing thin. Therefore, for the few who do have understanding, trusting intuition becomes the greatest key, and I see here a modern counter-spirit. But for that, I feel it is essential first to thoroughly regulate one’s diet. Even if one comes to Kyushu, if one spends time eating whatever the flow of eating out offers, food that does not suit the body, and then visits shrines, one cannot hear the voice of the kami, and it ends only in the selfish act of imposing personal desire upon the divine. The core of Japanese culture does not dwell in that, yet this sense is undoubtedly fading year by year.

Even more important than that is “waiting for the right time.” There are several timings in life, and if one misses them, opportunities cannot be seized. Therefore, instead of going to a place when one wants, it is important, like a monk in training, to regulate one’s diet daily, continue preparing to hear the voice of the kami, and have the lightness to go to that place when called by the kami. Along the way, various events occur, and these connect as timing, but modern people, rushed and burdened with possessions, tend to commit the outrage of forcing everything to fit their convenience. Yet the majority of the world cannot be moved by our own power, and in Japan, considering survival aspects such as natural disasters, it is important that movement be as lightweight as possible.

A typical example is the weather. Now is the season of transition into autumn, with typhoons and heavy rains making the weather unstable, and rain falls frequently. That is why, even during travel, it is important not to force things, but to spend time in introspection. Today too it is raining across Kyushu, and heavy rains are expected tomorrow as well, but at such times one must avoid forcing movement. What I keep in mind then is the idea of seiko udoku (晴耕雨読).

This phrase means: on sunny days, till the fields and work; on rainy days, read books and engage in introspection. In my case, on sunny days I take my camera and go out for research journeys, and on rainy days I relax, enjoying reading or conversations with staff at cafés. In this way, rather than being swept away by weather I cannot control, I think it is important to create my own pace without forcing things.

While I am still continuing my travels and exploring how a new Japan-born culture of movement may emerge, I feel that this very mindset may one day become the driving force to advance under the power of the kami. In fact, over these seven years I have been called by many kami, but I am still only halfway along the path, and I will surely continue to be called by unseen kami yet to come.