I have had several Gokitō experiences. My first one was in Hawaii before I went to Japan to pray for my success in school and safe travels, it was truly wonderful to be able to be in the presence of kamisama in such a formal way, as well as reinvigorating.
The other two times were at Kitano Tenmangū. I remember how nervous I was to request a Gokito, and how the first time I ever visited Japan I thought foreigners weren't even allowed anywhere but the outside spaces much less allowed to request prayers.
The sound of the Haraegushi and Suzu bells going over you is really relaxing. I hope everyone who visits Japan can have the opportunity to participate in such a ceremony, and experience the kami in such a way!
Thanks again for a wonderful article, I really appreciated the translations for parts of the Norito. While I speak some Japanese I always had a hard time with understanding the lines in Norito, even though I've done some shakyo like practices and have books explaining the lines.
I truly enjoyed reading your story and beautiful reflections on your experience attending a kigansai prayer ritual.
Shinto ceremonies are simple in form, which is why I believe the more childlike and receptive one's sensitivity is, the closer one can feel to the presence of the kami. It’s clear that you have such sensitivity within you.
If the translations of the norito helped even a little in deepening your understanding, that makes me very happy. Feedback like yours is a great encouragement for my future writing. Thank you so much!
Thank you! Since Shinto has no set doctrines or teachings, the only way to truly learn is through the rituals themselves. I'm so glad I could share that with you!
Absolutely wonderful. I have been learning about Shinto for quite awhile but your words allow the pieces to fall into place and give me a much deeper understanding. I can't thank you enough for sharing your wisdom.
That feeling of “the pieces falling into place” when you're learning something is truly a joyful one, isn’t it?
I’m sure it’s largely thanks to all the learning you’ve done up until now, but if my article could be even a small spark for that quiet sense of excitement, then nothing could make me happier.
Thank you for letting us enjoy the world of Shinto and for letting us enjoy a ritual while being from afar. The lines that you wrote:
"This is a ritual for gracefully grooving with the kami—
not to seal an eternal contract, nor to swear an oath.
It is a fleeting moment in the flowing river of time,
a warm exchange between kami and human—
precious precisely because it cannot last."
are really quite emotive and beautiful.
Although I've been really interested in Shinto for over a decade (time flies!), I've never participated on a proper ritual, manly due to my (and also my wife's) lack of bravery to approach a gokito uketsuke and ask for one to be performed. Since my daughter born last year, both of us have decided that the next time we travel to Japan (hopefully still this year!), we shall have a ritual for her. This post really motivated me more to give that first step into approaching the uketsuke and make it happen. So, I have to thank you once more for giving me more motivation. :)
A couple of questions that I have (feel free to answer them here or leave it for a future post):
- You've mentioned that Shichi-Go-San is usually performed in November. Is there any reason why is performed on that date?
- really mostly out of curiosity: how long does usually a full ritual, from the opening to the closing of the ceremony takes? And is it going to have around the same duration for special rituals like Shichi-Go-San? For example, I come from a catholic country and the missa (mass) over there usually takes around 45 minutes to one hour, but one special occasions (Easter and such) it can take from 1h30 to 2 hours.
Thank you for your comment. I’m truly glad that the part you highlighted resonated with you, as those words express my own personal feelings. At the same time, I also feel that they weren’t so much an expression of my emotions, but rather a simple description of something that is just… there—something that exists quietly and naturally.
I completely understand the feeling that it takes courage for a foreign visitor to approach the gokitō uketsuke (ritual reception desk). But as long as you prepare your name and address written in hiragana or katakana, you’ll be just fine. During the ritual, the priest will also gently guide you through how to offer the tamagushi (sacred branch), so there’s no need to worry.
As for your questions about Shichi-Go-San, I actually plan to go into more detail in a future post—but for now, let me give you a short answer here:
Q1: Why is Shichi-Go-San usually observed in November?
A: One of the most widely accepted theories is that the custom became popular among the general public because the Tokugawa shogunate held the kamioki (first hair-cutting ceremony at age 3) for their heir on November 15th back in the 1600s. The influence of the Tokugawa family was enormous, and their rituals often shaped wider cultural practices. From the perspective of Shinto’s long history, November Shichi-Go-San visits are relatively recent, but there are also several small, practical reasons why they tend to cluster in that month. I’ll explain more about that in an upcoming post.
Q2: How long does a typical gokitō (prayer ritual) last?
A: For kigansai such as Shichi-Go-San, the ritual usually takes about 30 minutes. Since kigansai are personal or group-specific rituals, they’re relatively short. However, larger annual festivals (reisai), which are held to honor the kami themselves, can take as long as a Catholic Easter Mass—sometimes up to 1.5 to 2 hours.
Your feelings on that highlighted passage reminds me of "saudade" (Portuguese word), which is a feeling really hard to describe: something like being nostalgic (but at the same time it can also be a joyful feeling) of something that happened or that is even going to happen eventually. That fleeting moment that is precious because it can not last really gives me a saudade vibe.
What takes more courage for me to do, is not to fill the form itself, since both of us are able to speak (a bit more broken nowadays, since we mainly just use it to communicate with each other and no one else) and write Japanese, but not really knowing what to do during the ritual itself. As you've said it, a kigansai is more personal than a Catholic mass, where you can follow and copy what everybody else is doing, so there is some irrational anxiety that lingers for the first time kigansai - "what if I do some wrong?". Despite that, what you've said is really reassuring and it consolidates my own desire of asking for one kigansai.
The explanation for Shichin-go-san being in November explains it quite clearly. It's mostly an historical tradition. I eagerly wait for the shichi-go-san post :)
This was great. My family is planning a trip to Japan in the next few years. I'd love it if we could come and visit your shrine. Kyōyū shite itadaki arigatōgozaimasu.
Wow, thank you for expressing your gratitude in Japanese!
The shrine where I serve is located in the north part of Osaka Prefecture. It has quite an interesting history, which I hope to share in a future post. (For now, I’m focusing on more general topics, so it may be a little while before I get to it.)
If the timing works out during your trip to Japan, please do come visit. You would be most welcome!
I’ve been deeply enjoying studying these concepts, and I really appreciate the opportunity to explore them. It’s fascinating to see the shared understanding of impurity across traditions.
From the Vedic perspective, impurity can be understood through the framework of the three gunas—sattva (purity), rajas (passion), and tamas (ignorance). Contamination arises primarily from interactions with the lower modes, particularly tamas and rajas, which contribute to ignorance, attachment, and imbalance. Purification involves spiritual practices such as mantra chanting, fire rituals (yajna), and bathing in sacred rivers to restore sattvic qualities.
I found your explanation of impurity and purification from the Vedic perspective truly fascinating. The framework of the three gunas—sattva, rajas, and tamas—feels deeply resonant with the Shinto concept of the different states of tama (soul): sakimitama, nigimitama, aramitama, and kushimitama.
In Shinto, kegare (impurity) is not viewed as a fixed sin, but rather something that naturally accumulates over time and can be gently removed through purification, returning us to our original, clear state. I sense a similar gentleness in the Vedic approach to purification—as a return to one’s true nature.
It brings me great joy to discover these shared sensibilities across different traditions. I hope you’ll continue sharing your insights as well!
The Japanese saying you quote 'Whether you believe or not, the kami are there' reminds me of the following.
Carl Jung carved a Latin inscription above the door of his house in Kusnacht, Switzerland: 'VOCATUS ATQUE NON VOCATUS DEUS ADERIT'. In English translation, the inscription reads: 'Called or not called, the god will be there'.
Aniela Jaffe says: 'It is the answer the Delphic Oracle gave the Lacedemonians when they were planning a war against Athens'.
It says: Yes, the gods will be on the spot, but in what form and to what purpose?
The two sayings that came to your mind were both new to me, so I learned a lot from them. I also felt that they are beautiful words that reflect a pure feeling toward the divine.
First of all, “Whether you believe or not, the kami are there” : this is not a traditional Japanese proverb, but rather my own attempt to express the mindset of the Japanese people in words.
The sense I tried to express here is something that, for Japanese people, feels as natural and ever-present as the air we breathe—so natural, in fact, that we don’t usually put it into words. In this post, I made the deliberate choice to put it into words to help English-speaking readers understand, but I realize now that my words fell a little short.
The Japanese kami are not easily translated into English. They are different not only from the “God” of monotheism, but also from the “gods” of polytheism. From ancient times, Japanese people have found kami in the forces of nature—things beyond human understanding, such as thunder or eclipses; things both awe-inspiring and fearsome, like water, rivers, the sea, or the invisible wind, without which we could not survive. These are simply “there,” whether we believe in them or not.
And what can human beings do in the presence of these kami? We can try to live in harmony with them, to adjust ourselves to the rhythms of the natural world. We can make offerings and host them so that they don’t suddenly lash out and destroy our village. We can dedicate dances and music to them, gather together, and share the harvest. This is the kind of lived sense we have—it comes from daily life.
It is something a little different from the idea of “Believe in God, and you will be saved.” It’s more like: “Whether you believe or not, the kami are quietly there around you, and whether they will save you or not depends partly on your luck. But to help that luck along, let’s visit the shrine.”
I’ll talk more about this feeling in a future post! Thanks to you, I was able to see the incompleteness of my own words and to recognize again just how hard it is to put this unspoken Japanese sensibility into English. I truly, deeply appreciate it.
It’s so cool to step into your viewpoint, and to know that you are so openly and kindly writing about Shinto for the English speaking world.
My wife and I lived in Osaka for a few years, and much loved learning about Shinto culture in the course of our daily lives, although I confess we still know very little. Our work at the time was mostly in filming a documentary about natural farming [ 自然農法 ] in Japan and Korea (where we live now). But during those years in Japan, I saw so many connections between the beautiful mindsets of the natural farmers we were working with, and Shinto, at least from my limited understanding of it.
I also just loved being in shrine spaces, because somehow I always felt so calm, peaceful, and connected. If I could write a job description for the perfect job, it would be what you wrote as yours! The way of seeing the world feels like it connects communities to each other, to beauty, and to our place in this world. As an artist, I always hope for my own practice to accomplish this as well. Then again, I guess that being a Shinto priestess can be seen as an art in that respect?
Thank you for your thoughtful comment. I truly appreciate it.
You and your wife lived in Osaka for a few years! That means you are already familiar with the friendly nature of Osaka people. I’ve heard that Koreans often say, "Osaka people have a personality similar to Koreans." What do you think?
That said, farmers tend to be rather quiet and reserved. Is it the same in Korea? I love looking at their hands—big, thick, and shaped by years of working with the soil. Watching those hands skillfully transform rice straw into shrine shimenawa is something I deeply enjoy. I even filmed a documentary about it for myself.
I completely agree with what you said—being a Shinto priestess feels closer to being an artist. Right now, I’m fully immersed in this endeavor of writing about Shinto in English. Compared to the abstract nature of Japanese, English is a more structured language with clear subjects, and writing in it actually helps clarify my own thoughts. I enjoy finding ways to preserve nuances while making ideas more precise.
Above all, I love being able to connect with people all over the world through this work. It has truly been an exciting journey!
Looking forward to continuing this exchange with you.
Yes! Osaka felt familiar to us somehow. Instantly like home, maybe because people are a bit more straightforward, but also still very warm? Not sure that makes sense. In a general sense, that feels like a Korean character, especially where we live in the far south. Thank you for your kind reply and thoughts!
It would be interesting some day, to think about the relationship between Shinto and some of the animistic Korean beliefs. Like the 'dangsan namu' in Korea, which is general term for the sacred 'god tree' that looks over a village or neighborhood. Our village has one (most do) and also a sacred mountain with a shrine atop it. Anyway. For later!
Oliviaさん、Thank you so much for always reading and taking the time to leave a kind word. It truly means a lot to me and keeps me inspired to keep writing. I’m so glad you’re enjoying the journey with me!
Ah, thank you so much more Rev. Toukyo for taking the time to write your beautiful articles and share them with everyone! 🙇 I am very humbled and thankful for your kindness. It is truly something very precious for you to share your words and thoughts with everyone, and I am filled with deep gratitude. You inspire me greatly and I’m sure many others as well! I have been beginning to feel encouraged to participate more with some writings as well thanks to your wonderful articles!🙇 I am very honoured to be able to be here on the journey with you! Thank you so, so much! 🙇
Thank you so much for your kind message! I’m really glad to hear you’re interested. May your journey be filled with peace—and may the kami smile upon you wherever you are.
I keep returning to your explanation of kegare. I think it is a very important insight – our impurities do not cling to us, we cling to them. We are in some way sticky. I imagine that gentle breeze inviting us simply to let go and to return to harmony with ourselves and the universe.
I find this very beautiful idea and I am deeply grateful to you.
Absolutely amazing article! Thank you for sharing the knowledge 🙇
I'm glad you read it. Thank you so much！
That was beautiful and evocative. I did indeed feel as if I was in the temple. Thank you!
I actually wrote this piece at the shrine right after performing a prayer ritual, so perhaps that feeling came through! Thank you so much.
Thank you - a clear and warming explanation
Thank you for your comment! I feel that the structure of the English language is actually helping to clarify my own thoughts.
I have had several Gokitō experiences. My first one was in Hawaii before I went to Japan to pray for my success in school and safe travels, it was truly wonderful to be able to be in the presence of kamisama in such a formal way, as well as reinvigorating.
The other two times were at Kitano Tenmangū. I remember how nervous I was to request a Gokito, and how the first time I ever visited Japan I thought foreigners weren't even allowed anywhere but the outside spaces much less allowed to request prayers.
The sound of the Haraegushi and Suzu bells going over you is really relaxing. I hope everyone who visits Japan can have the opportunity to participate in such a ceremony, and experience the kami in such a way!
Thanks again for a wonderful article, I really appreciated the translations for parts of the Norito. While I speak some Japanese I always had a hard time with understanding the lines in Norito, even though I've done some shakyo like practices and have books explaining the lines.
I truly enjoyed reading your story and beautiful reflections on your experience attending a kigansai prayer ritual.
Shinto ceremonies are simple in form, which is why I believe the more childlike and receptive one's sensitivity is, the closer one can feel to the presence of the kami. It’s clear that you have such sensitivity within you.
If the translations of the norito helped even a little in deepening your understanding, that makes me very happy. Feedback like yours is a great encouragement for my future writing. Thank you so much!
So beautiful! I have always been curious about Shinto rituals. Thank you for sharing! ✨
Thank you! Since Shinto has no set doctrines or teachings, the only way to truly learn is through the rituals themselves. I'm so glad I could share that with you!
Absolutely wonderful. I have been learning about Shinto for quite awhile but your words allow the pieces to fall into place and give me a much deeper understanding. I can't thank you enough for sharing your wisdom.
That feeling of “the pieces falling into place” when you're learning something is truly a joyful one, isn’t it?
I’m sure it’s largely thanks to all the learning you’ve done up until now, but if my article could be even a small spark for that quiet sense of excitement, then nothing could make me happier.
Thank you for letting us enjoy the world of Shinto and for letting us enjoy a ritual while being from afar. The lines that you wrote:
"This is a ritual for gracefully grooving with the kami—
not to seal an eternal contract, nor to swear an oath.
It is a fleeting moment in the flowing river of time,
a warm exchange between kami and human—
precious precisely because it cannot last."
are really quite emotive and beautiful.
Although I've been really interested in Shinto for over a decade (time flies!), I've never participated on a proper ritual, manly due to my (and also my wife's) lack of bravery to approach a gokito uketsuke and ask for one to be performed. Since my daughter born last year, both of us have decided that the next time we travel to Japan (hopefully still this year!), we shall have a ritual for her. This post really motivated me more to give that first step into approaching the uketsuke and make it happen. So, I have to thank you once more for giving me more motivation. :)
A couple of questions that I have (feel free to answer them here or leave it for a future post):
- You've mentioned that Shichi-Go-San is usually performed in November. Is there any reason why is performed on that date?
- really mostly out of curiosity: how long does usually a full ritual, from the opening to the closing of the ceremony takes? And is it going to have around the same duration for special rituals like Shichi-Go-San? For example, I come from a catholic country and the missa (mass) over there usually takes around 45 minutes to one hour, but one special occasions (Easter and such) it can take from 1h30 to 2 hours.
Thank you again. And I'm eager for next post!
Thank you for your comment. I’m truly glad that the part you highlighted resonated with you, as those words express my own personal feelings. At the same time, I also feel that they weren’t so much an expression of my emotions, but rather a simple description of something that is just… there—something that exists quietly and naturally.
I completely understand the feeling that it takes courage for a foreign visitor to approach the gokitō uketsuke (ritual reception desk). But as long as you prepare your name and address written in hiragana or katakana, you’ll be just fine. During the ritual, the priest will also gently guide you through how to offer the tamagushi (sacred branch), so there’s no need to worry.
As for your questions about Shichi-Go-San, I actually plan to go into more detail in a future post—but for now, let me give you a short answer here:
Q1: Why is Shichi-Go-San usually observed in November?
A: One of the most widely accepted theories is that the custom became popular among the general public because the Tokugawa shogunate held the kamioki (first hair-cutting ceremony at age 3) for their heir on November 15th back in the 1600s. The influence of the Tokugawa family was enormous, and their rituals often shaped wider cultural practices. From the perspective of Shinto’s long history, November Shichi-Go-San visits are relatively recent, but there are also several small, practical reasons why they tend to cluster in that month. I’ll explain more about that in an upcoming post.
Q2: How long does a typical gokitō (prayer ritual) last?
A: For kigansai such as Shichi-Go-San, the ritual usually takes about 30 minutes. Since kigansai are personal or group-specific rituals, they’re relatively short. However, larger annual festivals (reisai), which are held to honor the kami themselves, can take as long as a Catholic Easter Mass—sometimes up to 1.5 to 2 hours.
Thank you.
Thanks once again for the thoughtful answer.
Your feelings on that highlighted passage reminds me of "saudade" (Portuguese word), which is a feeling really hard to describe: something like being nostalgic (but at the same time it can also be a joyful feeling) of something that happened or that is even going to happen eventually. That fleeting moment that is precious because it can not last really gives me a saudade vibe.
What takes more courage for me to do, is not to fill the form itself, since both of us are able to speak (a bit more broken nowadays, since we mainly just use it to communicate with each other and no one else) and write Japanese, but not really knowing what to do during the ritual itself. As you've said it, a kigansai is more personal than a Catholic mass, where you can follow and copy what everybody else is doing, so there is some irrational anxiety that lingers for the first time kigansai - "what if I do some wrong?". Despite that, what you've said is really reassuring and it consolidates my own desire of asking for one kigansai.
The explanation for Shichin-go-san being in November explains it quite clearly. It's mostly an historical tradition. I eagerly wait for the shichi-go-san post :)
Once again, thank you for replying.
This was great. My family is planning a trip to Japan in the next few years. I'd love it if we could come and visit your shrine. Kyōyū shite itadaki arigatōgozaimasu.
Wow, thank you for expressing your gratitude in Japanese!
The shrine where I serve is located in the north part of Osaka Prefecture. It has quite an interesting history, which I hope to share in a future post. (For now, I’m focusing on more general topics, so it may be a little while before I get to it.)
If the timing works out during your trip to Japan, please do come visit. You would be most welcome!
I’ve been deeply enjoying studying these concepts, and I really appreciate the opportunity to explore them. It’s fascinating to see the shared understanding of impurity across traditions.
From the Vedic perspective, impurity can be understood through the framework of the three gunas—sattva (purity), rajas (passion), and tamas (ignorance). Contamination arises primarily from interactions with the lower modes, particularly tamas and rajas, which contribute to ignorance, attachment, and imbalance. Purification involves spiritual practices such as mantra chanting, fire rituals (yajna), and bathing in sacred rivers to restore sattvic qualities.
Thank you so much for your comment!
I found your explanation of impurity and purification from the Vedic perspective truly fascinating. The framework of the three gunas—sattva, rajas, and tamas—feels deeply resonant with the Shinto concept of the different states of tama (soul): sakimitama, nigimitama, aramitama, and kushimitama.
In Shinto, kegare (impurity) is not viewed as a fixed sin, but rather something that naturally accumulates over time and can be gently removed through purification, returning us to our original, clear state. I sense a similar gentleness in the Vedic approach to purification—as a return to one’s true nature.
It brings me great joy to discover these shared sensibilities across different traditions. I hope you’ll continue sharing your insights as well!
Another great post, thank you.
The Japanese saying you quote 'Whether you believe or not, the kami are there' reminds me of the following.
Carl Jung carved a Latin inscription above the door of his house in Kusnacht, Switzerland: 'VOCATUS ATQUE NON VOCATUS DEUS ADERIT'. In English translation, the inscription reads: 'Called or not called, the god will be there'.
Aniela Jaffe says: 'It is the answer the Delphic Oracle gave the Lacedemonians when they were planning a war against Athens'.
It says: Yes, the gods will be on the spot, but in what form and to what purpose?
That depends on our intentions...
Thank you for your comment!
The two sayings that came to your mind were both new to me, so I learned a lot from them. I also felt that they are beautiful words that reflect a pure feeling toward the divine.
First of all, “Whether you believe or not, the kami are there” : this is not a traditional Japanese proverb, but rather my own attempt to express the mindset of the Japanese people in words.
The sense I tried to express here is something that, for Japanese people, feels as natural and ever-present as the air we breathe—so natural, in fact, that we don’t usually put it into words. In this post, I made the deliberate choice to put it into words to help English-speaking readers understand, but I realize now that my words fell a little short.
The Japanese kami are not easily translated into English. They are different not only from the “God” of monotheism, but also from the “gods” of polytheism. From ancient times, Japanese people have found kami in the forces of nature—things beyond human understanding, such as thunder or eclipses; things both awe-inspiring and fearsome, like water, rivers, the sea, or the invisible wind, without which we could not survive. These are simply “there,” whether we believe in them or not.
And what can human beings do in the presence of these kami? We can try to live in harmony with them, to adjust ourselves to the rhythms of the natural world. We can make offerings and host them so that they don’t suddenly lash out and destroy our village. We can dedicate dances and music to them, gather together, and share the harvest. This is the kind of lived sense we have—it comes from daily life.
It is something a little different from the idea of “Believe in God, and you will be saved.” It’s more like: “Whether you believe or not, the kami are quietly there around you, and whether they will save you or not depends partly on your luck. But to help that luck along, let’s visit the shrine.”
I’ll talk more about this feeling in a future post! Thanks to you, I was able to see the incompleteness of my own words and to recognize again just how hard it is to put this unspoken Japanese sensibility into English. I truly, deeply appreciate it.
It’s so cool to step into your viewpoint, and to know that you are so openly and kindly writing about Shinto for the English speaking world.
My wife and I lived in Osaka for a few years, and much loved learning about Shinto culture in the course of our daily lives, although I confess we still know very little. Our work at the time was mostly in filming a documentary about natural farming [ 自然農法 ] in Japan and Korea (where we live now). But during those years in Japan, I saw so many connections between the beautiful mindsets of the natural farmers we were working with, and Shinto, at least from my limited understanding of it.
I also just loved being in shrine spaces, because somehow I always felt so calm, peaceful, and connected. If I could write a job description for the perfect job, it would be what you wrote as yours! The way of seeing the world feels like it connects communities to each other, to beauty, and to our place in this world. As an artist, I always hope for my own practice to accomplish this as well. Then again, I guess that being a Shinto priestess can be seen as an art in that respect?
Your writings are warmly and joyfully received.
Thank you so much for your care and hard work.
Thank you for your thoughtful comment. I truly appreciate it.
You and your wife lived in Osaka for a few years! That means you are already familiar with the friendly nature of Osaka people. I’ve heard that Koreans often say, "Osaka people have a personality similar to Koreans." What do you think?
That said, farmers tend to be rather quiet and reserved. Is it the same in Korea? I love looking at their hands—big, thick, and shaped by years of working with the soil. Watching those hands skillfully transform rice straw into shrine shimenawa is something I deeply enjoy. I even filmed a documentary about it for myself.
I completely agree with what you said—being a Shinto priestess feels closer to being an artist. Right now, I’m fully immersed in this endeavor of writing about Shinto in English. Compared to the abstract nature of Japanese, English is a more structured language with clear subjects, and writing in it actually helps clarify my own thoughts. I enjoy finding ways to preserve nuances while making ideas more precise.
Above all, I love being able to connect with people all over the world through this work. It has truly been an exciting journey!
Looking forward to continuing this exchange with you.
Yes! Osaka felt familiar to us somehow. Instantly like home, maybe because people are a bit more straightforward, but also still very warm? Not sure that makes sense. In a general sense, that feels like a Korean character, especially where we live in the far south. Thank you for your kind reply and thoughts!
It would be interesting some day, to think about the relationship between Shinto and some of the animistic Korean beliefs. Like the 'dangsan namu' in Korea, which is general term for the sacred 'god tree' that looks over a village or neighborhood. Our village has one (most do) and also a sacred mountain with a shrine atop it. Anyway. For later!
Thank you so much for another wonderful article!
Oliviaさん、Thank you so much for always reading and taking the time to leave a kind word. It truly means a lot to me and keeps me inspired to keep writing. I’m so glad you’re enjoying the journey with me!
Ah, thank you so much more Rev. Toukyo for taking the time to write your beautiful articles and share them with everyone! 🙇 I am very humbled and thankful for your kindness. It is truly something very precious for you to share your words and thoughts with everyone, and I am filled with deep gratitude. You inspire me greatly and I’m sure many others as well! I have been beginning to feel encouraged to participate more with some writings as well thanks to your wonderful articles!🙇 I am very honoured to be able to be here on the journey with you! Thank you so, so much! 🙇
Thank you I am very interested also thanks for sharing peace
Thank you so much for your kind message! I’m really glad to hear you’re interested. May your journey be filled with peace—and may the kami smile upon you wherever you are.
I keep returning to your explanation of kegare. I think it is a very important insight – our impurities do not cling to us, we cling to them. We are in some way sticky. I imagine that gentle breeze inviting us simply to let go and to return to harmony with ourselves and the universe.
I find this very beautiful idea and I am deeply grateful to you.