A pathway along the mountainside stretches before you, weaving in and out of trees and groves of bamboo that stand like green sentinels all around. What little light that shines from above is filtered in shades of green, or sends long shadows along the gravel beneath your feet. You have taken this route for your own reasons, perhaps for exercise, perhaps for curiosity sake, or perhaps you are simply lost.
Ahead, a line of torii stretches for as far as the eye can see, creating a tunnel of vermilion set in black, like ocher tar against living flame. Lanterns catch the eye, trickles of movement from spider's webs caught between the many poles that make up this strange path. It is a highway of faith, a pathway to the gods, and beside it on either side stand the stoic guardians - a pair of foxes. They regard you as they have the countless generations that came before you, poised on pedestals with ears pert and tails erect. One holds a key in its jaws, the other a jewel, symbols of their religious power - treasure and sorcery. Even in stone or bronze, they are fearsome, their eyes pierce the soul.
"Are you lost?" A voice, a young woman, echoes behind you in broken English. Turning you see her there, a Japanese girl perhaps about your age. She wears a traditional shrine maiden's outfit, voluminous crimson trousers and white coat, her hair falling down to the nape of her back. You might nod sheepishly and admit you got a little bit in over your head, and could she please direct you back to the path.
She will nod, giggling perhaps, hiding her smile behind a hand as the Japanese sometimes do, and gingerly tiptoe her way here and there. "Where are you from? Do you speak any Japanese?" She might ask. Ah, you do not, but she is perfectly happy to practice her English as many people are.
Eventually, through hither and high water, you find your way back to civilization, to cars and karaoke, to Modern Japan. Taking a deep breath, you turn, and thank your guide, but she is gone! There is no sign, and no search turns her up. All you find where she had been is a few scattered leaves and the footprints of an animal in the mud of the path.
Later, you tell your Japanese friends or acquaintances about this story and how strange or outlandish it is. They look at you, dead serious. That wasn't strange, it wasn't just a trick of the light or your mind playing tricks. You, stranger from a distant land, you have met a kitsune, one of the very guardians of that forest shrine and a member of the myriad thousands of otherworldly beings that haunt Japan to this day. What you saw, what you experienced, is as real to the Japanese as anything tangible. You are either lucky or unlucky, that the fox didn't trick you or do something else, and from that moment on you pass by those statues with a bit more reverence than before.
I tell this story to illustrate what first caught my attention about the foxes of Japan. A fascination that began as a supplementary branch of my overall fascination with Japanese mythology, history and culture and became the impetus for my first journey there. On that trip, I went to the mountain of foxes, Inari-san, where the kitsune and their patron deity Inari Okami are worshiped. To say that it opened my eyes is an understatement.
Until that point Japan was a very distant place both in terms of physicality and understanding. What I understood came in bits an pieces, things I read or objects my grandfather collected that lay around his house. The true aspect of Japan remained a mystery to me, even in college as I sat in Japanese culture classes learning history and ideas I already knew, and sometimes ones I did not. It was all relative to my ultimate goal, actually setting foot in Japan, seeing - no, experiencing for myself.
Cultural experience trumps any lecture, any token, but an abiding mystery provides endless curiosity, question and intrigue. Ultimately, it was a particular creature that brought me to visit Japan the first time, and with my second trip I wished to visit this odd and elusive being once again. To the Japanese, the fox is both enemy and ally, guardian and trickster, messenger and god. Stories abound of people who wander the empty street at night and have a mysterious encounter with a beautiful woman who then disappears as if she was never there. Other tales tell of men seduced by wealth, gold and power in a magnificent mansion of a mysterious patron, only to find it turned to forest detritus in a foxes' den.
To know the Japanese fox was and is to know Japan for me, and it represents the best part of what makes me love the country. A sly wink beneath an austere demeanor, a beauty and grace of nature surrounded by the capacity of man. To the Japanese, the kitsune (Japanese fox spirit) are as real as you or I, and to those of my readers who disbelieve me I have first hand experience of an encounter on my second journey.
I was excited to visit Inari-san again, though disappointed by the crowds. In the intervening years, Fushimi Inari Taisha had been designated as a place to be and belong, a place to see, and it seemed the world had descended upon it. Whereas on my first trip, it was easy to get a picture of the long tunnels of torii without anyone around, now it was like trying to photograph the beetles in 1965. This was made worse by the fact I wanted to visit again because the last time my camera was acting up, and many of my pictures didn't turn out the way I wanted them.
I wandered along the mountainside, past shrines laid out like little villages of stone where candles shone in the dim light like will-o-wisps, enticing me off the path. My parents, ever patient, tried their best to keep up as we climbed and found our way back to a small hut. Here, only two years before, a kind man had carved a symbol of good wishes upon a torii votive, and here once again I continued my tradition by getting another. This time, I was greeted by a new wrinkle, a little carved fox that sat in the window. It had a smaller one behind it, and raised its paw as if to greet me.
I wandered along the mountainside, past shrines laid out like little villages of stone where candles shone in the dim light like will-o-wisps, enticing me off the path. My parents, ever patient, tried their best to keep up as we climbed and found our way back to a small hut. Here, only two years before, a kind man had carved a symbol of good wishes upon a torii votive, and here once again I continued my tradition by getting another. This time, I was greeted by a new wrinkle, a little carved fox that sat in the window. It had a smaller one behind it, and raised its paw as if to greet me.
Immediately I thought of the characters from my own novel, and bought the little statue before we continued on our way. Our destination wasn't far, a small fountain in the shape of a leaping fox where water trickles out of a stick of bamboo placed in the thing's mouth. Something about this shrine always intrigued me. I don't entirely know its significance, but as with everything kitsune, it is shrouded in many facts.
"You know, its bad luck to touch these," I commented, tracing my fingers over the ear of the statue. "The Japanese think the fox will enter you and possess you."
My parents gave a half laugh as we rounded back to make our way down again. About halfway there, however, something happened. The stone steps that wind up and down Inari-san are slippery at the best of times, though I never had much trouble. That day however, not a half hour after I touched that statue I slipped and tumbled a good few steps. I lay there in serious pain, and more than a bit of fear. It felt like I'd twisted or broken something.
The Japanese people, making their way up, just stared at me as they passed, but no one came to our aid. Luckily for me, the pain slowly went away, and my foot was all right for the rest of the journey. The lesson, however, was learned. I'd had an encounter with one of the spirits, and I'd been flippant. They did not appreciate my lack of respect, and this was my warning. Ever since, I have always paid respect at an Inari shrine if I see one, to thank whatever fox is watching me for not tripping me up again.
My parents gave a half laugh as we rounded back to make our way down again. About halfway there, however, something happened. The stone steps that wind up and down Inari-san are slippery at the best of times, though I never had much trouble. That day however, not a half hour after I touched that statue I slipped and tumbled a good few steps. I lay there in serious pain, and more than a bit of fear. It felt like I'd twisted or broken something.
The Japanese people, making their way up, just stared at me as they passed, but no one came to our aid. Luckily for me, the pain slowly went away, and my foot was all right for the rest of the journey. The lesson, however, was learned. I'd had an encounter with one of the spirits, and I'd been flippant. They did not appreciate my lack of respect, and this was my warning. Ever since, I have always paid respect at an Inari shrine if I see one, to thank whatever fox is watching me for not tripping me up again.
Sitting at the very front, this guy/gal greets you with a golden bunch of rice.
The main gate to Fushimi Inari, this area is fairly iconic
The two guardians that stand to either side of the main gate have stood here for a long time.
This building is a place where people make offerings to Inari Okami
Once again we see the fox, specifically a white fox (sacred kind) with a jewel on its tail
Inari is a god of rice, so its not uncommon to see the foxes with them too
We were lucky to be there in spring with some blossoms
The key represents the grainery, a treasury house and wealth
This is one of the smaller areas of the shrine, foxes flanking a mirror
The Torii create these unusual tunnels of color all over
About halfway up there is a fantastic view of Kyoto
Each torii is a donation from a major company or sponsor. The bigger torii are bigger sponsers.
This is the strange fox fountain. I love the dynamic of the pose here
Wooden fox shapped emma (prayer tablets) like these are left by visitors, some with creative drawings of popular anime characters
The above few images are from what I like to call "The Fox Shrine Villages" These collections of smaller shrines create a sort of town where one can find little wonders such as the fellow above.
This is the shop, and the kind folks who have created prayers upon the small wooden torii I bought.
Giving foxes a humanity, it is uniquely Japanese
These lanterns light the way at night, when spirits dwell within the wooded halls of Inari-san