Before I take you on a journey into the mountains of Japan with my travel blog, I should impart a story. In the mountains of Japan there is
a legend of the wild men who live on the highest peaks. These men are Buddhist monks, living in
austere temples unseen by human eyes and living off the stark and Spartan existence
provided for them ONLY by the mountain itself.
These men, these Yamabushi, as they are called, are legendary in deeds
and distinct in their appearance, yet even they harken to a much earlier and
more intriguing legend.
It is said that there dwells
another wild people in those mountains; wild beings who look like men at first
since they have the bodies of men but the similarities fade into the wings and
talons of a bird, with great features and feathers of a bird such as a beak or
a long nose with fearsome features. Sometimes they wear geta (japanese sandals) but with only one central clog, perfectly balanced upon these great shoes as any bird would be on a branch. Yes, the yamabushi may tell you such stories of their progenitors, the
fearsome and somber tengu.
Like so many of Japan’s mysterious
spiritual creatures, the tengu have traveled a great distance and gone through
many transformations before they roosted on Japanese peaks. Translated roughly as, “heavenly dog,” tengu
are both yokai (weird creatures) and kami (gods). They began their existence as pests, goblins,
who preyed on mountain travelers somewhere in China. Later they spread their wings and crossed the
ocean and through Buddhism many were transformed to a more benevolent state.
Tengu come in many shapes and
sizes. Sometimes they are small, and
much more like birds of prey, and sometimes they are very human but larger. You usually see them represented
in the form of a mask with deep red skin, a distinct long nose with
thick brows and mustache and piercing golden eyes. With this appearance its not hard to see that tengu have earned their reputation as fearsome, but like all Japanese spirits it is not that cut and dry. Tengu have become enlightened by converting to Buddism in Japan, becoming monks and practicing a form of discipline
and aesthetic called “shugendo.”
It is this living off the mountain, honing one’s mind and body through
stark and often difficult meditations in the wilds, that the yamabushi
supposedly learned from them.
Tengu teach this art, along with
other forms of martial arts and the disciplines of the sword and combat to
special individuals. Japan’s legendary
warrior prince, Yoshitsune learned from the king tengu before going off to help
unite Japan with his elder brother.
Later, when jealousy drove them apart, Yoshitsune fled back to such
mountains and was either killed by his brother’s forces or spirited away to never
be heard from again. Perhaps he still waits there with the tengu today.
My first encounter with a tengu was
on a trip down from Lake Chuzenji in Nikko six years ago when we passed a
statue of one. It was the briefest
glimpse of this human figure standing with a staff and overlooking the valley
below. When I pointed it out, the cab
driver remarked, “Hai, tengu.” He did not
stop driving, and perhaps for good reason. Tengu are jealous guardians of the
secrets they keep, and though they can be friendly, theirs is a fearsome
reputation to those who cross their ire.
I had a few other encounters with
Tengu in my journeys to come, in the forms of statues or their iconic masks,
but usually in temples where their fury is contained by the spiritual presence
surrounding them, or in shops where they seem to loom like a disapproving father
overlooking everything else. Like the
enigmatic kitsune, something about them that drew me like a metal to magnet,
and I can circuit the orbit of one ten times and see something new.
Unlike the kitsune, the tengu’s
reasons to exist are easier to discern and digest into human understanding. They naturally dress as we do without
pretending to be us, nor do they have any desire to be human like other
yokai. The tengu can, without
hesitation, break a human like a twig, or use a great feathered fan to blow us
away with the power of a hurricane. But
they don’t. They remain where they are,
watching, studying, content on their mountains, and why? Because they have nothing to fear from
us. They are Japan’s mysterious wild
mountain bird men, and they rule those lofty roosts.