autumn festivals
Hello reader, thanks for being here! I’m Kana and this is Tending Gardens, which you can read about here. If you like it and want more like it in your inbox, consider subscribing.
Weeks have passed by and autumn is in full swing and the leaves of deciduous trees are quickly turning colours. While driving home today, I drove under a “rain” of falling orange leaves and I felt so much beauty in that short fleeting moment.
The morning and evening air is crisp and cold—it’s the season of looking into the air when you’re outside and saying ‘haaaaa’ to look at your breath puff out into small smokes of air. The sun sets early and at 5:30 in the evening I’m already cozy at home with very few intentions of going outside. Despite the dawning transition of autumn to winter, the daytime, when the sun is out, is still warm(ish).
autumn festival, aki matsuri, in Kamikatsu
Something that sparked me lately was having the chance to participate in two festivals, the first was an 秋祭り (aki matsuri or autumn festival) in Kamikatsu.
Autumn is also the time when Japanese staple food, rice, is harvested. It’s also during this time that other crops are abundant, so the autumn festival is held to thank the harvest for the foods of the land. People in a community gather to bring down the gods, making offerings to ensure a good harvest and wishing for prosperity and abundance. These festivals also help foster a sense of community among local districts because it requires people to come together to make it possible.
There have already been several autumn festivals, aki matsuri, in Kamikatsu, but recently I went to one in a much deeper mountainous area of the village. It’s physically more remote and harder to access. It felt like people at this festival was more serious about upholding traditions.
I was asked by an older local man from that local district if I and a couple of other young people could help manage the festival’s stalls that would be selling things like takoyaki (fried octopus balls—it’s way more delicious than it sounds), other foods, beer, and toys. It’s common for many autumn festivals to have these stalls for the people who participate. Since festivals are usually all day and all night events, the food and drinks help sustain!
Immediately after arriving we were so engaged with the actual festival that we didn’t provide much help with managing the stalls. To be fair, it seemed like the locals were far better equipped than we were to keep a steady flow of conversations and beer. So I have a sense that asking for our help was another indirect way to ask us to join the festival.
Despite not being someone who’s lived to see decades of the local autumn festivals being practised, it’s easy to find the meaning of these gatherings by sharing the atmosphere with the local people. There’s a sense that people come together to protect the culture, pay to respect nature (and interchangeably the gods), and simply just enjoy the chance to celebrate and unite as a community.
Tsukuru Mori in Keihoku, Kyoto
I ventured out of Kamikatsu this weekend to go to another rural community called Keihoku, about an hour’s drive towards the mountains from Kyoto. I attended ツクル森 (tsukuru mori) translating to the words: make and forest. The word tsukuru has many meanings including to grow, to raise, to create, to compose, to prepare or to cultivate. The word can really cover a spectrum of meanings, but understood simply it means ‘to make’. This festival was created 4 years ago to exhibit art, craft, and music in the forests (of Keihoku).
Tsukuru Mori felt like a completely different place in the evening. Bonfires kindled to provide light and warmth and stringed lights hung around the festival area. The people who stay until the evening also had a chance to see fire performances and the screening of short documentaries. I felt so grateful to meet familiar faces and make new connections. The value of these festivals, and community more broadly, is truly in gathering in a place where each individual can have a voice, learn from each other, and share different life perspectives. I have a feeling that we’re more creative when we’re together than we try as individuals so coming together to instil inspiration and spark action are values of these festivals.
In contrast to the local aki matsui (autumn festival) in Kamikatsu meant to honour traditions and customs, this was a festival where new ideas were being explored and new ways of living and creating were being introduced. From international and vegan foods to a wide array of music and dance performances that traversed the world, I was astonished by the creativity and warmness that ebbed and flowed between the organizers and participants. Even though Tsukuru Mori was relatively attended by local people in Keihoku and Kyoto city, it was easy to feel connected to a community so much bigger than the locality. The ideas and activities were far-reaching beyond the borders of Kyoto. Despite the differences between the festival in Kamikatsu and Keihoku, it was evident that there was an abundance of celebration for life, expressed in the forms of song, dance, and food.
That’s it for this week. Here are some photos and a short quote.
Something I read recently that resonated as a needed self-reminder:
“Keep my anger from becoming meanness.
Keep my sorrow from collapsing into self-pity.
Keep my heart soft enough to keep breaking.
Keep my anger turned towards justice.
Remind me that all of this, every bit of it, is for love.
Keep me fiercely kind.”
Stay warm if you’re in the northern hemisphere / enjoy the upcoming season of renewal if you’re in the southern hemisphere!
As always and with love, take care,
Kana
I’d love for you to think of me as your penpal—sharing a note from a tiny village in Japan. With Tending Gardens, I want to bring you a small joy in the form of a newsletter. If you like it and want more like it in your inbox, consider subscribing.
Such beautiful insights and reflections, as always, Kana! I just have to say -- that poem at the end really touched me and made me shed a tear. Thank you for keeping my heart soft enough to break a little. <3