Thresholds of divinity - Japanese gateways

Symbolic gateways in the Japanese landscape mark the boundary between the realm of human experience and the world of the gods

No visitor to Japan can fail to be impressed by the many torii - simple yet highly remarkable gateways - which adorn the landscape in town and country, in field and forest, on riverbanks and even in the sea. Although unmistakably gateways, they consist simply of two pillars set in the ground, surmounted by two horizontal beams, one just above the other. A number of variations on this basic form may be encountered, but the principle of construction remains the same. Virtually devoid of decorative elements, the gateways are characterized by austerity and purity of line. Constructed of wood, stone, porcelain, metal or even reinforced concrete, they may be left bare or be painted red and black. The height and width of the gateway may vary from one metre up to twenty or more.

Composed of a few elegant strokes, the torii resembles an ideogram, a signature affixed to nature by human hand. A gateway without a gate, it cannot be closed nor does it form an opening onto an otherwise closed space. However, its very presence carries meaning. It is an emblem of faith. The torii stands as a clear pointer to the essential relationship between humanity and nature which has existed since ancient times. It forms a symbolic boundary between two realms which are fundamentally different in human experience: the sacred province of the gods (kami) and the profane sphere of everyday human activity.

The torrii constitutes an almost intangible threshold across which nature and humanity may communicate. A thirteenth-century painting depicts a sacred mountain at the foot of which one of these gateways may be seen. The mountain is the sanctuary, and the torii is the only visible sign of human presence.

* Sacred pillars

In addition to their aesthetic qualities, torii also have an ethical significance which extends far beyond the doctrinal framework of Shinto, which is the foundation of religious belief in Japan. In Shinto belief, the gods are neither omniscient nor omnipotent. These far-from-perfect entities are natural forces which bear a striking resemblance to human beings, although their behaviour sometimes defies human understanding. It is only by their works that the gods differ from mere mortals. As if to stress this proximity, Shinto conceives of the link between heaven and earth in a very concrete manner, as the "August Celestial Pillar" on the island of Onogoro. In a more general sense, the pillar plays an important role in Japanese mythology. The architecture and rituals of Shinto consider some pillars to be sacred. Anyone may pass through a torii at will, it is always open to wind, light and sound, and to animals and humans alike.

* The Suwa trail

To escape from the oppressive summer heat of Tokyo, I spent a few days in a mountainous region in the centre of Japan, staying in a small house situated in a forest of pine trees, silver birches and lacquer trees, the sap of which is an irritant to the skin.

At the point where the path to the house departs from the main road stands a torii built of grey stone. The rectangular plaque hanging from the centre of the horizontal beams is inscribed with a name of great resonance: Suwa Jinja. The Suwa sanctuary, situated near the Suwa lake on Honshu island, is particularly renowned for the four sacred pillars (tree trunks stripped of their bark) set at its four corners.

But this roadside torii does not lead directly to the sanctuary. The three or four-metre-high stone gateway, in perfect keeping with its natural surroundings, simply marks the entrance of the path leading to one of the subsidiary areas of Suwa Jinja. The feet of the pillars sprout from a clump of miniature bamboo, while maple leaves brush the tips of the beams. As I make my daily passage through the torii, the structure makes no particular impression on me; I perceive it as I perceive the surrounding vegetation. It is like a guardian spirit, discreetly preparing the visitor for the realms beyond.

Leaving the house, I may choose to descend towards this first portal, or to climb a fairly steep path and move deeper into the forest. On summer days, a continuous flow of nightingale song accompanies my footsteps like a meditative chant, occasionally punctuated by the repeated tapping of a woodpecker. Nature is bursting with life. A few hundred metres on, this winding path comes to a clearing where stands another torii, this time set apart from the vegetation. There is no central plaque, no decoration of any kind. The bark has been roughly stripped away to leave the bare pine, dappled with irregular knots. In spite of its state, it perfectly commands the surrounding space, undoubtedly marking the entrance to a special domain. Built by human hand, it signifies a space that may be described as "sacred". Its massive pillars can be seen as evoking the "August celestial pillar."

The surprisingly small scale of the central shrine, hardly bigger than a postbox, makes this "sanctuary" all the more intriguing. In comparison to the size of this building, the space created by the torii appears immense. A sizeable bottle of rice wine sits, half-empty, along with a few small coins, before the miniature temple. The divine spirit obviously enjoys a drink and needs money. The modesty of this sacred dwelling reminds one of the humorous touches in some of the more down-to-earth passages of the Kojiki(1) (Chronicle of Ancient Times) and the naivety of the gods who created this world.

* The 'cloak' on the pillar

Japan boasts far more spectacular torii; at the entrance to the Itsukushima sanctuary in the bay of Hiroshima, for example. Here, the rising tide laps at the feet of the red pillars, while the main buildings - also standing in the water - are fleetingly reflected in the undulating swell. This sanctuary is a perfect example of harmony between sky, sea and mountains, which form an ideal stage for the appearance of the deities. It seems as if all these elements were infused with a single breath of life.

Also worthy of special note are a number of white wood torii at the Ise sanctuary, in the south of Honshu island. The pure, uncluttered forms, the exceptional quality of the wood and the sheer size of these torii are such that they deserve an article all to themselves.

However, I have chosen to evoke my personal torii which, in their own modest way, represent a fundamental aspect of Shinto philosophy. Through them, I may understand - in the midst of a forest or on the side of a mountain - how humanity has entered into a relationship with nature in order to escape the bounds of a "natural" animal existence.

Out for a walk one morning, I discovered on one of the pillars the discarded skin of a cicada that had moulted. Perhaps the deity had left behind its diaphanous cloak, and had hopped off to return momentarily to its celestial home.

1. This collection compiled in 712 A.D. is considered the first classic of Japanese literature, and is a reference work of the Shinto religion. Ed.

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