What I Felt in Takachiho — A Reflection on Heart & Culture
mikiki1. The Journey Begins
This week, I finally decided to visit Takachiho, the legendary birthplace of the Japanese gods — the sacred land of Tenson Kōrin, where heaven and earth are said to have first connected.
In Japan, we believe that everything in nature — the mountains, rivers, and even trees — holds a divine spirit.
There are countless gods (yaoyorozu no kami), each with their own emotions and personalities.
Some are gentle, some mischievous, some even jealous or angry — yet together they keep the world in harmony.
I wanted to visit Takachiho to feel that ancient spirit of balance, respect, and unity that has lived in Japan for centuries.
2. A Night at the Kagura Dance
On the first night, I went to see the Takachiho Yokagura, a sacred traditional dance dedicated to the gods.
Before it began, I spoke with a traveler from abroad.
He showed me a video he took of local firefighters doing walking drills, and laughed:
“What’s the point of this? It’s not useful at all, right?”
He didn’t mean to offend — but it still hurt.
I told him,
“In Japan, we believe that before training the body, you must first train your mind.
To purify your heart — that is the most important discipline.”
But he couldn’t quite understand what I meant.
3. What I Realized
At that moment, I felt a deep sadness — and also clarity.
I realized that what is natural and sacred to me can seem meaningless to someone who has never felt that way of life.
Many people see only what is visible and useful.
They may laugh at what they cannot measure.
But Japan’s heart — and perhaps, my music’s heart — lives in the invisible:
in sincerity, in purity, in quiet strength.
I remembered an article about a famous mochi-pounding performance in Nara.
Foreign visitors often laugh or treat it as a spectacle, unaware that it’s a centuries-old ritual of spirit, rhythm, and harmony between people.
That misunderstanding carries the same root — seeing without feeling.
So I thought: perhaps, little by little, I can share the unseen beauty through my music and my words.
4. Connection to My Music
This experience resonates deeply with my new song, “Write Your Dream (願いかなう)”.
To write your dream in a notebook — it’s an act of faith in the unseen.
It means nurturing your inner voice and believing in the quiet power of your own heart.
The gentle sound of the music box, and my soft singing voice, are prayers —
an invitation to peace, and to remembering that what we feel matters more than what we can prove.
5. Looking Forward
Through my music, I want to keep sharing small pieces of Japanese spirit —
not through explanation, but through feeling.
My next release, “Daijoubu yo (It’s Okay)”, will carry the message of kindness and gentle encouragement.
It will be a song to soothe, to heal, and to remind us that we are never alone.
On my blog, I’ll also share more travel reflections and behind-the-scenes moments from my creative journey.
6. Final Thoughts
- True culture can’t be understood only by logic or form.
- The invisible — heart, spirit, sincerity — is what gives life its beauty.
- Through small acts of creation, we can keep that spirit alive.
🎧 Listen to “Write Your Dream (願いかなう)” — a gentle music box song about believing in your heart’s wishes.
📸 (You can add the same image of you in the pink Jōmon dress here, with the soft overlay — it fits beautifully after Section 1 or Section 4.)
