Cobwebs and Kami

Determined to break my streak of isolation, I met a friend for coffee at Starbucks today after work, and (being in a mindset of experimentation) felt an obligation to order the most unusual item on the menu: The Matcha Frappuccino. As an earnest fan of matcha (Japanese green tea made from powdered crushed tea leaves), I had nothing but positive expectations for my Jappuccino, and was not wholly disappointed. The concoction tasted much like a matcha-flavored milkshake, and was even topped with a generous mountain of whipped cream. Oh tamai matchafrappuccinoai itashimasu!

My venture downtown for a coffee date extended into the evening after I ran into Romain and Mari, two other JETs, who were on their way to the Utsunomiya Shrine in the middle of downtown. As dusk fell on the city and we mounted the steep stone steps leading to the shrine, Romain, a French Coordinator of International Relations who has lived in Utsunomiya for a year now, explained to us the significance of the buildings. After purifying ourselves at the mizusashi just inside the large gateway, we wandered around the compound, pausing beneath the giant Ginkgo trees and bathing in the buzz of cicadas. Coming to a smaller building to the left of the main shrine, we paused as Romain explained the stone statues of foxes lining the path to the shrine’s doorway. As he stepped over the threshold into the darkening chamber, Mari gave me a worried look.
“Hadn’t you better not...?” her voice hesitated in the question mark.
I turned to her and asked, “Are people not supposed to go in there?”
We peered into the darkened room where Romain had disappeared, seeing only the slivery reflection of the polished mirror on the alter. “It’s not that so much, it’s just there is a belief that the spirits come out at dusk, and Japanese people think it’s a bad idea to enter a shrine at this time; you may run into a ghost.” Her words hung in the thick air of the doorway, falling into the darkened space where Romain lingered unseen.
The delicate stylet of a mosquito pricked my dampened neck.
“Hey Romain, let’s go. Can you even see anything in there?” I called into the shadows. His lanky form stepped into the dusky light.
“Oh, not much. Just a bunch of cobwebs. It’s getting pretty dark, no?” As we followed the stepping stones back to the main gate and Romain brushed the dust from his shirtsleeves, I turned back for one last glimpse of the small shine behind us. A shimmer of silvery light flickered from the gloaming and for a moment, my pulse quickened at the sighting. But then I remembered the crude polished mirror adorning the alter. It had only been the reflection of the eventide sky playing back at me.

Or perhaps it was the kami stirring from the boughs overhead.

I’m content with either possibility.

“Now is the time of night
when the graves, all open wide,
send the ghosts that haunt the night.
And we spirits to run
from the presence of the sun,
following darkness like a dream.
And I am sent with broom before
to sweep the dust behind the door.”
- Puck, A Midsummer Night’s Dream