Then I walked next door and stood at in front of the torii gate, the symbolic separation of the sacred from the profane. There was just a certain feeling I had when looking at it, like I knew that what was inside the gate was to be treated as something revered.
Directly inside the shrine on the left was a handy informational plaque, put there by the municipal government to explain the heritage of the site.
The sign was posted in Japanese, Korean, Chinese, and (thankfully) English, and reads as follows:
Sannomaru-jinja (shrine)
This shrine is believed to have been built in the Nanbokucho Period (1336-1397). In 1703, to pray for the stable condition of the lives of the local people, Nagayasu Okabe transferred the god from the Fushimi-jinja in Kyoto to the Sannomaru-jinja. In those days, a ceremony was held in the shrine every year on September 27th. The people, riding on Danjiri (sacred floats) from the town, banged drums and conducted various acting performances for the Daimyo (lord). This Inari ceremony is one explanation of the Kishiwada Danjiri Festival. Before the Meiji Restoration, worshipping at shrines for the Danjiri ceremony was held not only in the Kishiki-jinja used today, but also in the Sannomaru-jinja.
Too bad I won't be here on September 27th. Sounds like the party is off the hook!
Next to the information post is a small fountain, used to purify the mouth and hands (I think; I'm not exactly knowledgeable about Shinto practices, but if Wikipedia is any guide, then I think I'm on the right track).
The posts surrounding the shrine and on the lanterns inside have names of people, places, organizations, etc. I believe it is to pay respect to the individuals and groups who have supported the shrine, and more than likely to ask for blessings on their behalf.
There was a big tree in the shrine, off in its own corner, protected from evil spirits by lightning-shaped shide tied to its trunk. I presume that the special treatment this particular tree gets is because it is either host to a kami or has some other venerated history.
Throughout this entire time I felt such a calm, peaceful, quiet feeling. The light breeze rustled the leaves above, and an occasional bird chirped on its way by. The serenity of nature was very apparent in this small, enclosed place.
While I was there, a young man walked up to the kamidana, the small enclosure in the back of the shrine housing the kami. Watching him reach out to an unseen, spiritual presence for guidance was a very interesting experience. Despite the huge discrepancy between his perception of the spiritual and mine, the mere fact that he was acknowledging the existence of and need for something outside his physical senses was a testament to me of the universality of our common spiritual heritage as children of God. The Japanese recognize the presence of the divine in nature, which I believe is an echo of their pre-mortal lineage.
After seeing this young man's simple prayer, I sat and contemplated. This place was hallowed to someone, and I could feel that. I didn't approach the kamidana myself; even though I know it is, in essence, nothing more than a box with a statue in it. It seemed better to just look from a distance and contemplate.
I think I might want to spend more time there. It's a quiet place, a perfect place for study and meditation. Indeed, one of the only places more quiet and suited for study and meditation is the temple (meaning the House of the Lord, not the Buddhist equivalent to the Shinto shrines).
This place is great.
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