Summer Nights

For someone back East looking at the moon on hot summer nights

A thousand years ago, a lady-in-waiting in at the imperial court of Heian-Kyo delicately lifted back the sleeves of her cool, summer kimono and then dipped her brush into the well of her black inkstone. As she had done countless times before, she watched as the brushed grew heavy and fat with the black ink, and seemingly without a thought, she turned to the piece of parchment in front of her to jot down her thoughts.

The lady had opinions about everything and truly, Japan would never be the same again.

Her most famous opinions perhaps were those concerning the beauty of the seasons. About summer, she wrote:

Natsu wa yoru. In summer, it is the night. It is of course delightful when the moon is out, but no less so on dark nights when countless fireflies can be seen mingling in flight. One even feels charmed when just one or two pass by, giving off a gentle glow. Rainy nights, too, are delightful

夏は夜。月のころはさらなり。闇もなほ、ほたるの多く飛びちがひたる。また、ただ一つ二つなど、ほのかにうち光りて行くもをかし。雨など降るもをかし。

"In summer it is the night." Who could argue? Of course, in summer, there are daytime activities too. There is  the "official opening" of the mountain-climbing season; of the swimming and beach season; and of fishing for ayu, just to name a few. Children spend practically all their waking hours outdoors, smiling and sweating in the heat and humidty. Still, while there are plenty of activities, with the exception of the hydrangea, there is not the flower-viewing and picnics of spring, nor the many daytime annual events (年中行事） of the rest of the year. Almost by executive decision the focus becomes the night.

Yes, it is the time of fireworks and festivals. It is also a time of fireflies, star-watching, the star-festival, and Obon-- sometimes referred to as the day of the dead. While summer days are filled with weeks of rain which are followed by more weeks of intense heat and humidity. Summer nights are when the fun happens. And in the same way manner that the beauty of nature and the great ephemerality of our human existence is appreciated in the form of the scattering cherry blossoms of spring and the leaves of fall; so too in summer our epehmerality is seen in the flickering lights of the short-lived fireflies and fireworks

**

It seemed like the impossible dream: the fireflies of Japan. No where in the world celebrates them like the Japanese, but where were they, I wondered? I had been asking for years, and I was starting to think that maybe I would live and die in this country without ever seeing a firefly.  The bungalow I always stayed at in Bali was perched in the middle of a rice paddy, at certain times of year, the paddies would be lit up with a myriad of fireflies. It was absolutely magical. Walking on the narrow paths between the paddies at night, you felt like you were in outer space surrounded by twinkling stars.

So, where were the fireflies in Japan?

Well, apparently like everything else, environmental degradation had put them in peril. Around here, it was fertilizer run-off from the many golf courses.

The local residents, however, had had enough and had demanded the companies do something about their firefly-murdering practices. Amazingly, it took one year for the fireflies to make their grand comeback. And, this year, it seemed like it was finally going to happen.

The fireflies.

Makoto told us to be ready to go at 6:15. We loaded into his truck and headed to Nishikata-- just north of Tochigi, where Tochigi's best rice is grown. At first it seemed like nothing would happen, but as soon as it was completely dark, the twinkling began. Rather than a paddy, the fireflies were swarming in a ravine backed by a bamboo grove.  The frogs were singing away from a paddy close by and the fireflies were twinkling away. An old man came walking his dog, seeing Adonis he lunged into a marshy patch and placed a firefly in Adonis' hands telling him to take it home tonite and put it by your futon. He slurred (obviously drunk on cheap sake) that fireflies cannot live without pure water.

In contrast to cockroaches, which can survive almost anywhere it seems, fireflies are more like manatees and without a clean and pure environment they quite simply cannot survive.

They were so pretty and glide around ion the air quite differently from other insects. They seem to hover almost like little ghosts lit up with the fire of life. It was at that moment that Sachiko said, "you can see why people think they are the souls of the dead."

 I am reading a very interesting article right now by a Japanese anthropologist called, 聖空間の自然 (Nature as Sacred Space). It is about the early beliefs of the Japanese. From the very earliest of times, Japanese were what you could describe as nature-worshippers. They never devised an elaborate cosmology or abstract philosophical or religious belief-system like the other great civilizations of the world, but rather have retained a surprisingly primative (primative meaning very, very old but also very philosphically unsophisticated) belief system for longer than most civilizations (and of course Japan is one of the world's great civilizations).

And while termed a Buddhist country, in fact Japan is an atheistic country with very strong leanings toward nature worship.  Very simply put, the Japanese for most of their history have held the belief that when a loved one died, they did not go to a faraway Heaven removed from our world, nor did they become reincarnated into a stranger with no connection to those left behind; but rather that the dead remained close at hand in the form of some natural object. Always close, they watched over the human world in the form of stars or fireflies or within the spirit of trees or rocks. Nature everywhere was imbued with the sacred. Indeed to most Japanese not only is nature and the human world inextricably bound but the dead and the living existed in much closer proximity than most cultures would have it. This connection with nature and the dead is not an abstract philosophy but rather is something felt on an emotional level.

And, for some reason, summer nights in particular are a time when the living and dead commune with each other. Watching the fireflies flit to and fro, Japanese people will feel their thought turn to a loved one now gone. And what the Japanese refer to as "that world" is so very close to "our world." To help the dead find their way back, fires are lit or hundreds of tiny boats with candles are set afloat down the river-- to guide the dead family members back to this world for a short visit.   

Just last week, our neighborhood circular came round telling us all to "prepare for the safe return of your dead back to the Pure World. We will mark the return at the community temple on July 23 at 10:30 am so hurry and make your preparations." The shrine then passed out a long hemp rope to all the streets and people have tied the long piece of rope to all the houses so all the houses are "connected." The rope connecting us will stay up till the festival.

**

The ladies of the Heian court. Their celebrated beauty was over their great cleverness, wit and intelligence-- such a different concept of beauty than that of today.

Most people's favorite lady of all was the lady of the seasons--Sei Shonagon. Her wit can be felt even 1000 years later.

Of all the ladies of the court, though, I think it is Izumi Shikibu that truly captures the season we are in right now.

In fact, the whole affair started in early summer as she watched the long rains fall from the skies day after day. She had by that time scandalized the court with her affair with the emperor's third son. Falling madly in love she was divorced by her husband and disinherited by her father. The Prince then up and died of the plague, leaving her to fend off the gossips and those who would have liked nothing more to banish her forever from Kyoto.

Days were spent watching the rain, which were a symbol of both her tears and her longing for her lost love. Nights were spent watching the fireflies dance in the night sky.

Remembering you . . .
The fireflies of this marsh
seem like sparks
that rise
from my body's longing

As if the first affair hadn't been bad enough, the lovely Izumi Shikibu had to go and have a second affair-- and this time with the dead prince's younger brother. The Court had reached its limit. "But," pleaded Izumi Shikibu, "what was a girl to do?" She pleaded boredom and the season. Rains and fireflies and the scent of tachibana flowers, one couldn't help but see ghosts.

The scent of tachibana flowers in May
Recalls the perfumed sleeves of him who is no longer here.

The ancient month of May, of course, falls in our mid-June, and orange blossom flowers (tachibana) are said to be the fragrance of remembrance. 

Not surpringly, the Prince's brother left his wife for the lady of fireflies.

Comments

[M.W.Nolden]

What a lovely post!
Thank you.