The Goddess Mountain

[Guest guest]

Dear All,

 

Here is another beautiful story about Japan and Goddesses (especially for

you Hui Hua),

 

Please note that the writer is indian...

 

Enjoy !!!

With Love

nicole

 

************

 

http://www.tribuneindia.com/2001/20010729/spectrum/art.htm

 

The Mountain Goddess of Japan

B.N. Goswamy

 

HERE, in our own land, mountains have long been held as sacred, for it is on

them that the gods dwell. Consider the ancient hymns, the moving stories that

are woven around their presence, and of course all those names, drenched in

tradition, stretching across myth and fact— Kailash, Meru, Mandara,

Malayachala, Himalaya. But clearly there are parallels elsewhere. And when I

came upon a mention, recently, of the existence of a mountain cult in Japan,

alive and flourishing today, I was fascinated. The mountain around which the

cult has developed is the Fuji, whose majestic, cone-like crater can be seen

from long distances, looming over the landscape, and serving in some ways

as an icon of the land itself. And its sacredness is emphasised by the

pilgrimages that are undertaken each year for climbing to its top. These

pilgrimages are organised on June 30, each year, when the mountain is

declared open for climbing, and thus for receiving homage.

 

Presiding over the mountain is a goddess (the idea is not too unfamiliar to us

here), whose image is enshrined in popular imagination. Konohana No

Sakuyahime is her name, meaning " the princess flowering like a tree

blossom " . And she looks every inch a princess in the images one sees of her:

tall and sinuous she stands, dressed in magnificent flowing robes, head

covered by an intricate crown-like hat, holding in one hand a spherical object,

like a fruit, and in the other a long flowering branch of a tree from which

streamers hang, swaying gently in the wind. The aspect of the goddess is

benign, and gentle. There is perhaps even a touch of sadness in the face,

reflective of the legend that is associated with her.

EARLIER COLUMNS

 

 

An image of Goddess Konohana

 

Konohana, according to the legend which is contained in texts dating back to

the 8th century, was the daughter of an earthly mountain god who was given

in marriage to Prince Ninigi-No-Mikori, scion of an illustrious family. The

princess is said to have conceived a child on her wedding night itself,

something that made her husband suspect his bride of having had a

pre-marital affair. Faced with this accusation, and greatly angered by it, the

princess, it is said, swore to prove her innocence. To this end, she shut

herself

up in a cave, closed its mouth with clay, and lit a fire inside, declaring that

if

she and the child that was to be born to her were to emerge from the cave

unscathed, it should be seen as proof of her innocence. This did happen, and

the princess's ordeal by fire and smoke ended happily. She, in fact , lived to

bear her husband another two children, and came with time to occupy the

position of a divine figure, revered by men and approached by countless

childless women who sought her blessings. Around her figure grew elaborate

rituals, many of them of the shamanistic kind, and shrines where she was

worshipped. There are still a large number of them, known as Sengen

shrines, that started bestowing upon devotees amulets that ensure easy

childbirth. Konohana No Sakuyahime's name became a household word.

 

The history of pilgrimages to the top of the Fuji mountain, which involved a

religious 'ascent', is not without its vicissitudes. When a monk made this

ascent for the first time, in the 12th century, the idea caught on. But when

large groups of 'devotees— men of the working classes, and peasants and

traders and artisans—began to organise themselves for this purpose, the

powers that be in post-medieval Japan felt threatened, and even banned, for

many centuries , these congregations. But these Fuji-ko's— the word has

come to mean an association—managed to survive, and have been

organising, from the mid-19th century, when the ban was lifted, these yearly

'ascents'. At first, men alone were entitled to go on these pilgrimages, but

gradually women—inspired, curiously, by an Englishwoman, wife of a British

ambassador in the 19th century—began to join in. Today, there is intense

activity in each Fuji-ko, as the time for the ascent approaches: meetings are

held on full moon day, a leader for the ascent is chosen, rituals are clearly

decided upon, and so on. Buddhist and Shinto and shamanistic practices

come together, in a curious mix. Men and women prepare themselves in mind

and body for ascending the mountain in their pristine white robes, the ascent

taking anything from six to eight days on foot. The pilgrims often spend the

night near the crater, so as to be able to take in the blessed sight of sunrise

over the summit the next morning. It is all very structured, very Japanese.

 

And those who cannot ascend the mountain? For them, there are shrines to

be set up at home. With exquisite taste, an altar is raised, decorated with

flowers and plants, festooned with streamers, made fragrant with incense.

Close to it are placed skillfully plaited snakes made with rice straw. And,

above everything, towers a painted image of the goddess with the Fuji at her

feet.

 

Sounds familiar? I am certain it does.