This weekend was fun and a bit revealing in some ways. I organized a trip to Asahidake Onsen, which is a hot springs resort area high up in the mountains above the city of Asahikawa. (Click here for the photos.) I booked a cabin for us at a beautiful youth hostel there, which happened to be the very same youth hostel I stayed at during my first trip to Japan three years earlier. Thirteen English teachers attended, many of whom were my friends. And the folks I didn't know were very nice, and I enjoyed meeting them and making new friends.
Because I stayed there before, I knew the place had a nice little cabin attached to the youth hostel, and that the cabin could be rented out for a night. So back in April I called and made a reservation for the cabin, even though it was more expensive than the normal hostel rooms are. This was a better plan, though, because foreigners are loud (by Japanese standards), so we could party in the cabin till late at night and nobody would be disturbed. Plus we had our own lounge, fridge, toilet and front porch. Overall: very cozy and nice!
The area around the youth hostel has many hot springs, resort hotels, hiking trails and winter sports attractions. It's also the start and/or finish point for hikes up to the top of Mt. Asahi (2,290m tall; the highest mountain in Hokkaido). There's even a cable car that takes you up to the base of the peak. At the upper cable car station, tourists often walk along a short nature trail that takes them by sulfur vents, ponds, tundra landscapes, beautiful views of the Asahikawa valley and alpine flowers. From the upper station people can also start the hike up to the summit. In sum, it's a very beautiful place to spend the weekend!
This weekend was a special one because it was my friend Summer's birthday. It was also the day of the summer solstice. (Hence her name: Summer was born on the summer solstice!) The summer solstice is the longest day of the year (in terms of daylight) in the Northern Hemisphere, so for many indigenous people it's also a time of celebration. The Ainu, who are the indigenous people of Hokkaido, celebrate this event each year, so they held a solstice festival across the street from our hostel! (Talk about great timing!)
The celebration kicked off around sunset (about 7:45PM). About 30 Ainu people, dressed in their beautiful traditional robes and holding torches, walked down to a large wooden pyre. Each man, woman and child placed their torch onto the pyre, and soon thereafter the pyre went up in flames. Although I couldn't understand all the Japanese, I believe the bonfire was called a "firestorm." After the sun sent set, sparks from the fire drifted up into the night air, resembling stars in the sky. It was a great way to kick off the event, which continued with offerings of rice, sake and tobacco to the fire.
After that, a woman stood played the bamboo mouth harp. According to the British Museum, "the instrument is placed in front of the mouth and a semi-detached reed in the centre is jerked with a string to make it vibrate. A variety of sounds are produced by widening and narrowing the opening of the mouth and controlling the passage of air. It could be used, for example, to imitate animal calls while hunting." The closest way to describe the sound in words would be "boing! boing!" If you've heard aboriginal music from Australia, this instrument will sound familiar. (If they had added a didgeridoo into the mix, a person could easily think the music is from Australian Outback!)
After playing the bamboo mouth harp, a few of the Ainu women did some throat singing in the Ainu language. It was so beautiful to hear, because it sounds very similar to some of the throat singing I've heard among Inuit in Arctic Canada. (It's amazing how similar indigenous cultures can be sometimes!) Then the leader did a native dance using a bow and arrow. He danced around in a circle, dipping up and down with his bow and arrow. I'm not 100% sure of the significance, but I think it was a ritual hunting dance.
Allow me to digress here for a moment, because during the Ainu ceremonies something awakened inside me and many other people attending. Watching the "firestorm" bonfire, the ritual dances and listening to the throat singers become a magical moment. This was a moment that went back to time immemorial. In front of us were the surviving few people of an ancient culture, practicing and sharing their old traditions. I looked up above the bonfire and watched the sparks drift up into the night sky, temporarily "replacing" the stars.
I suddenly understood why they called it a "firestorm", and why it was lit on the summer solstice: Every day from now until December 22 would become shorter and shorter (in terms of daylight). By adding"stars" into the night sky, it's a way of recognizing and expressing gratitude for the sunlight, and it also symbolizes the fading of the light to come. Maybe this isn't the historical or cultural reason behind this Ainu ritual, but this was my take on it. Either way, lighting a bonfire seemed logical on a special day like the solstice.
Another thing thing that made an impression was when an the Ainu elder did the ritual hunting dance. Spectators formed a ring around him, and he danced in a circle, dipping the bow and arrow up and down and three women sang and clapped. At times he would put the arrow into the bow, get real close to some of the spectators, and pretend to shoot them. This of course caused spectators to withdraw a few steps back and gasp a little!
When I saw this, I thought to myself, "Man, some of the most basic forms of entertainment and culture never cease to scare, amaze or captivate us. They still evoke the same responses in us, generation after generation. No matter if it's today, tomorrow or 500 years in the past, rituals and gatherings like this still 'get' people." It's difficult to prove, but I think native rituals like the hunting dance, playing native instruments, singing, clapping together and dancing elicit something that's dormant in most people living in post-modern societies.
Buried in paperwork, cell phones, computers, time schedules, employer expectations, etc., many people today have moved away from some of the most basic forms of entertainment, teaching and human expression. So when we see simple and old things like a bonfire on the summer solstice, a native dance or people making simple, beautiful music with their voices, we suddenly recognize what it was (and still is) to be human.
At the Ainu festival, for example, there were many types of people attending from all over Japan and the world. Yet for about an hour and a half, all of us were instantly connected to something very old, human and real - simply by watching (and later participating in) ancient cultural rituals. People temporarily forgot about their cell phones, their clothes, duties at work and other peoples' expectations. Instead we all just existed for the present moment. That is a rare and powerful thing these days, because many people have limited experience feeling connected with the past and the present within a single moment.
Yet being connected to the past, the present and the Earth is something ingrained in all native cultures and all humans, regardless of location, nature or culture. In a way, watching the Ainu rituals and ceremonies was like looking into the past and experiencing what it was like to be a human a thousand or two thousand years ago. Yet we didn't have to invent a time machine, read a book or visit a museum to understand this; it played out right in front of us, in the here and now. And it was something everyone -from child to grandparent- could participate in and appreciate.
The ceremony closed in quite a nice and "connected" way. Everyone formed a ring around the bonfire, clapped to a slow rhythm, and slowly hopped to their left until we made one full rotation around the fire. Towards the end, everyone held hands and we all raised them up as the Ainu women finished singing a song. For a moment, everyone was literally connected to each other, and nobody needed to know Japanese, Ainu or English to understand one another or what was going on. Instead, I believe everyone instinctively knew the aim of this activity, which was to mark the completion of one seasonal cycle and the beginning of another. Holding hands signified that we're all a part of a larger, ever-changing cycle. And recognizing this fact in such a basic, festive and transformative manner felt intrinsically human.
After it was over, everyone in our group seemed happier, and a number of people thanked me for organizing the trip and letting them know about the Ainu festival. It kind of set the tone for the rest of our evening, too, which consisted of socializing, talking and just enjoying each other's company.
Because it was Summer's birthday, I bought a cheesecake from CostCo and we sang "Happy Birthday" to her. I forgot to bring candles though, so Ian placed an LED light above the cake and Summer "blew out" the light at the end of the song. (Improvised, I know, but it did the job!) Then we all sat around and ate cheesecake and started to have a few drinks. A lot of people were planning to "get wasted" that night, but that didn't really happen because I think most people were tired and wanted to relax more than party hard. It was actually a nice change of pace, though, because the whole idea of the weekend was to relax amongst friends and get out of the cities.
The next morning the weather briefly cleared up, and I was up at 7AM to check on weather conditions at the top of the mountain. The plan was to take the cable car up to the base of the peak, and then I would lead a few people up to the mountain's summit. But unfortunately the summit was socked in with clouds, and conditions below the peak were deteriorating. So after everyone packed up and checked out of the hostel, we just decided to do the cable car ride up to the peak base and do a short nature walk up there. The nature walk itself is pretty nice because it's got a good view of the valley below, tundra landscape, sulfur vents, ponds, mountain wildflowers and -on clear days- the peak.
While we wandered around the nature trail, I had to stop and take a very important picture. Almost exactly three years earlier I stayed at the same hostel, was on the same mountain and did the same nature walk - only I did it all alone. The climax of that first trip to Japan was to climb Mt. Asahi, which I did. Along the way I stopped at a lookout point near the sulfur vents. I set up my tripod and took a self portrait of myself standing there proudly. At the time, I was quite pleased that I had made it up to Hokkaido on my own and that I was standing on Mt. Asahi, surrounded by beautiful scenery.
When I returned to this same place three years later, I of course had to take the same picture. Here are the two photos. The one on the left was taken back in June 2005, and the one on the right was taken in June 2008:
So much stuff has happened to me during those three years! Sometimes I can't believe how much I've grown and changed in such a short period of time! The man (or maybe "boy" is a better term) in the photograph on the left just came out of the closet, was working in his first real job since college, was stuck in a dead-end relationship, was visiting a JET friend in Fukushima-ken and wasn't nearly as fit (mentally and physically) as he is today. In contrast, the man on the right is someone who has learned the power of living in the present moment, has discovered a new outlook on suffering and life in general, and has managed to become a much more compassionate, aware and understanding person. He's also a JET himself now, and he's finally figured out a future career path. He's also a much more grateful person, concerned less with material things and peoples' superfluous expectations. (I won't go on, as I think it would be pointless and self-serving to do so. In a nutshell: I've changed so much!)
Looking at these two photos reminds me that we're never the same person that we were three years, three months or even three weeks ago. All to often it's easy to look at a picture of someone or think back to the past and remember someone as being a certain "way." In our minds, that person is "frozen," unchanging, and our mind therefore makes quick judgements about how they are based on how they were. This judgement often extends into the present moment, which can neglect the fact that people can and do change from second to second in subtle, and not-so-subtle, ways. You can easily test this on yourself: Think about to when you were seven years old. Are you the same person now that you were then? How about at 17? At 27? At 77 will you be the same person you are now? The answer to all these questions is: no!
After the picture on the right was taken, I immediately thought about this idea of change and how we're all different than we used to be in the past. (Change is inevitable and is how the universe works.) Here I was, three years later, coming to the same mountain top and taking basically the same photo. But this time I had 10 other friends with me, enjoying the same moment and place. I also live in Hokkaido now, and no longer have dream about returning to this mountaintop - it's only a 3-hour car ride from my apartment! Also I'm an English teacher now. I love my job and want to become a teacher when I get back the U.S. I'm single and no longer believe the myth that another person can "complete me." I am so grateful to have so many new friends around me, and to experience living in a foreign culture and learning another language. In short, the guy on the right is much happier and well-adjusted than the guy on the left was! Sometimes I can't believe the two are the same person!
Anyway, this little weekend trip up to the mountains was great, and it made me realize some interesting things about life and how we live it. Before the weekend started, I just thought it would be the standard "JETs get drunk in the countryside" type of event. But it turned into a lot more than that. Although not everyone viewed things like I did this weekend, I hope that they all will have similar experiences someday. Seeing things in a different light helps us realize what it is to be human, and also how friendships and awareness are vital to living a good life.
So thank you, Mt. Asahi, for being there once again to mark another chapter in my life. I know the mountain itself had nothing to do with it, but it serves as an excellent mirror for my personal growth. I hope to return to it again some day and realize that I've learned even more lessons and come to even deeper understandings about what it is to be human.
Hey Mike,
I really enjoyed reading this post. In fact, it made me wish I had come along to the cabin that weekend. I was especially interested in the Ainu ceremony that you saw, and envious that you got to participate. Two of the most relaxed and `human` feeling times I`ve had in Japan were both when I got out of the city and both, coincidentally, involved music performed by Ainu groups, (ex Oki Ainu Dub) and a mix of peoples in the crowd.
I really appreciate your thoughtfulness over the whole post, and I`m touched by your self-reflection and sense of growth.
Posted by: Alexander | 03 July 2008 at 11:26
Thanks Alex! -Michael
Posted by: Michael Snyder | 03 July 2008 at 13:42
micheal. what a great post. i was just working on my blog and decided to check yours out. i def really appreciate this one. and there was nearly tears. those two photos represent so much. and im glad i could be part of your journey and have grown too. unfortunately i dont have pictures as symbolic as those. congratulations on coming to japan this experience has changed us so much for the better.xx love you lots a friend forever ninaxx ps my post was about over drinking..i m embrassed ..hehe
Posted by: nina | 23 July 2008 at 14:09