Where Death Becomes Creation: Reading Izanami

A Shinto priest’s reflection on the goddess who turns endings into beginnings

Creation and Loss

In my previous post, I shared my personal reading of the Japanese myth from the Kojiki, in which the goddess Izanami and the god Izanagi perform a sacred ritual, join in love, and give birth to the land of Japan. Drawing on my twenty years of experience as a Shinto priest—serving as a bridge between countless kami and people—and also on my own life as a woman, a lover, a wife, and a mother, I tried to enter the myth completely, body and soul, to experience its world from within.

For me, “reading mythology” means immersing myself in it—not analyzing it academically, but living it as a story that breathes through us. I am deeply grateful to my English-speaking readers for their generous understanding of this non-academic, intuitive way of approaching myth.

The Birth of Fire and the Cycle of Emergence

Now, let us begin from the moment when Izanami gives birth one after another to the lands, to nature itself, to the deities who govern it, to the gods of energy—and finally to the fire god. While giving birth to this fire god, she is burned from within her womb. In agony she vomits and excretes, and from her vomit and waste new gods are born. Eventually, Izanami dies.

Her husband, Izanagi, grieves deeply; from his tears new gods emerge. Yet his sorrow turns into rage, and he slays the fire god with his sword. From the blood that splashes from the blade, still more gods are born.

In the Kojiki, some deities come into being through birth, as humans and animals do, while others emerge through transformation—through tears, blood, fire, or decay. The early chapters of the Kojiki overflow with this constant rhythm of emergence—gods appearing one after another, endlessly.

Descent to the Land of Yomi

As the shape of the land gradually takes form, Izanagi longs for Izanami, who has died. Unable to bear the separation, he descends to Yomi（黄泉の国）, the land of the dead, in search of her. There, breaking the promise between them, he catches sight of Izanami’s terrifying and decayed form.

Horrified by what he has seen, Izanagi flees from the land of the dead. Izanami, enraged by his betrayal, sends the spirits of Yomi to chase him. As Izanagi runs, he blocks their way with boulders and seals the entrance to the underworld with a massive rock.

Standing on opposite sides of this boundary stone, the two deities speak for the last time. Izanami declares that she will take a thousand lives each day, and Izanagi replies that he will cause fifteen hundred to be born. Thus, life and death become part of the world’s balance—and the two are forever separated.

The Birth of the Three Noble Children

Afterward, the god Izanagi performs misogi—a ritual purification in a river—to cleanse himself of the defilement of Yomi. As he washes, new deities are born from his actions. Among them are the three most revered divine children, known as the Three Noble Children（三貴子）: Amaterasu, the sun goddess; Tsukuyomi, the moon god; and Susanoo, the storm god.

The Mystery of Izanami

When we read the story in English, Izanagi can seem like a terrible man and Izanami appears pitiful. Yet, when we read it in the ancient Japanese of the Kojiki, the tone is strikingly calm and matter-of-fact. Izanami’s transformation, and the overwhelming power she shows in her fury, reveal not tragedy but the awe-inspiring mystery of a divine being—something far beyond human emotion or logic.

In that sense, her wildness feels almost refreshing, a reminder of the purity and unpredictability of the gods themselves.

If She Dwells There

And so Izanami became a being of the land of Yomi. Yet when I think that she resides there, the idea of crossing to the other world no longer feels entirely dreadful. After all, she is the one who gave birth to nearly all the lands of Japan, who spurred her husband into bringing forth the Three Noble Children, and who helped shape the balance of the world itself. If such a goddess dwells there, then perhaps the realm beyond is not a place of despair, but one touched by her enduring presence.

The mystery of Izanami lies in this duality—she is both beyond our understanding and yet deeply close to us.

The Continuity Between Kami and Humans

In Japan, the boundary between gods and humans is soft and continuous. The Kojiki itself was written not as a collection of distant myths, but as a record of history—a chronicle that includes the divine as part of human lineage. So when I read the story of Izanami, I don’t see her merely as a goddess from an ancient tale. I feel her as an extraordinary predecessor, someone who walked before us with a strength both fierce and tender. At times, I even sense a quiet kind of sisterhood—a kinship that reaches across centuries, reminding me that the divine and the human are never far apart.

Izanami as the Mother of Regeneration

Now, let us look at Izanami not only as the goddess of death, but as the mother who sustains rebirth. In the Kojiki, Izanami’s story does not end with her passing. The moment of her death becomes the beginning of transformation—her body turning into the soil of creation, where new deities arise from what was once broken.

Later, when she and Izanagi exchange their final words at the border between worlds, her vow to take a thousand lives each day is answered by his promise to bring fifteen hundred to birth. What sounds like a curse becomes a rhythm: death and life intertwined, sustaining the world’s balance.

In Yomi, the land of the dead, Izanami becomes the Great Goddess of the Underworld. Yet her presence there is not only dark or tragic—it is generative. Beneath the surface, she continues to nourish the cycle of renewal, like fertile earth hidden under winter’s stillness.

Dear readers,

Thank you always for reading Grooving with Kami. Following our “Everyone’s Kamidana” project, I’m now planning a new reader-participation feature called “Everyone’s Goshuin-chō（みんなのご朱印帳）” (personal shrine and temple stamp books).

If you’d like to join, please take photos of the cover of your goshuin-chō and one of your favorite pages, and send them as attachments via direct message on Toukyo’s Substack.

Please also include a short note about what inspired you to start collecting goshuin, or any memorable story connected to your stamps or book. If you have a handmade goshuin-chō, I’d love to hear about your design choices and creative details, too!

I’m really looking forward to seeing your submissions!

とうきょ（桃虚）

Here’s the much-loved Everyone’s Kamidana edition ↓