Japan's 72 Microseasons - #5+ and #6+
Spring Haze, Grass Sprouts, And The Goddess of Spring
February 24 - 28
霞始靆
かすみ はじめて たなびく
Kasumi hajimete tanabiku
“Spring's first haze lingers"
February 29 - March 4
草木萌動
そうもく めばえ いずる
Sōmoku mebae izuru
“Grass sprouts, trees bud"
(This is the second post about these microseasons—if you missed the first ones, you can find them here and here to catch up!)
The Goddess of Spring was born in the foothills outside the ancient capital of Nara. Sahohime, as she is called, wears the soft grasses and flowers of early spring as her garment and pins her hair with the crescent moon. As she travels up the islands of the Rising Sun, she leaves delicate buds sprouting in her footsteps, fine mists trailing at the hem of her dress. Gently she folds up the heavy winter blankets of snow, and weaves with her skilled hands a fresh green bed of grass.
In this way, Kō 5 & 6 are connected: both works of Sahohime, harbinger of new growth. Let us tell her story, for which we’ll need to go back more than two millennia…
Long, long ago, the granddaughter of the ninth Emperor, Kaika, ruled this land alongside the eleventh Emperor, Suinin. Her name was Sahohime, and she was beloved by her family.
One fateful day, her brother, Sahohiko, asked her: “Who is more important to you: your husband or your brother?” Thinking the question a light-hearted one, she quickly answered “Why, of course it’s you, my dear brother!”
“Prove it,” said Sahohiko, and thrust into her hands a tantō dagger with the instructions to assassinate the emperor, her husband and father of their unborn child. Sahohiko was merely the lord of a small domain—which he called Saho after himself—and coveted Suinin’s rulership.
She returned to her home, her heart full of doubt. The Emperor thought the world of his wife, and finding comfort in her presence took a nap in her lap, no trace of suspicion in his mind. Three times she raised the dagger above her head, and three times she could not bear to plunge it into Suinin’s innocent chest. Tears fell from Sahohime’s eyes and landed upon her husband’s face.
He awoke, and looked up at her. “I had the strangest dream,” he said. “A brilliant silver snake had wrapped around my neck, and from the direction of Saho rose a thunderstorm which rained, wetting my cheek.” He asked Sahohime what such a dream could possibly mean.
Tearfully, she confessed to the assassination plot, and before the Emperor could respond, fled back to her brother.
Now, Suinin could not simply overlook this most serious of crimes, but his love for Sahohime was great and he did not wish for the child within her to be dragged into accusations of treachery. So he ordered that she and the child be retrieved, sending his swiftest soldier.
But Sahohime was determined. She could not kill the Emperor, but likewise could not leave her brother to die as a traitor. Knowing someone would come for her, she prepared her escape. She shaved her head and made the hair into a wig so it could not be grabbed. She cut notches in her bracelets so they would break if seized. She corroded her clothing with strong liquor so it would dissolve at the touch. And so it was that as soon as the soldier laid hands on Sahohime to recapture her, she slipped away.
The Emperor raised an army to confront Sahohiko, but he had been warned by his sister and ordered his men to build up their defenses. Hastily, they erected a fort made of rice bales, and for a month they held off the Emperor’s forces. The Emperor made a grim decision. Even knowing that his wife likely remained in the rice-fort, he was honor-bound to defeat this attempted rebellion. He instructed his soldiers to set fire to the structure.
As the flames rose, the child was born. The Emperor called out to Sahohime, husband to wife, both on either side of a war neither had wished for.
“What shall we name this child?” he asked.
"He has been born among the flames, and thus should he be named Homutsuwake1”
“And who shall untie this knot that you’ve made?”
“My two sisters are loyal, and will serve you better than I have. Summon them to your side!” These were the last words spoken by the former Empress before the flames took her, her brother, and the rest of the fort.
As the fort collapsed, the Emperor sent his soldiers in to recover his newborn son. He was brought safely from the flames, and grew up to be beloved by the gods. It was said that he inspired the construction of Izumo Grand Shrine, where every year all the gods gather to celebrate. And thus from the death of Sahohime and her fort of rice did new life sprout.
Stories of her tragic sacrifice spread and changed, as stories do when passed around. In some, Sahohime fought a giant silver snake, in others, she drowned herself in a river. 1,000 years after her death, the people of Nara worshipped the spirit of a nearby mountain to the east. Through dozens of generations, they had still remembered Sahohime’s sacrifice, and believed the spirit there to be hers. In the philosophy of the Five Elements of Nature, east is the direction of spring, and its element is wood. The mountain became a place to welcome the coming of spring, and over time Sahohime was venerated as the season’s goddess.2
Each spring, the gentle slopes of her mountain would dress in flowing, silver mist and bountiful flowers. So it was that spring mists gathered along the foot of mountains came to be called “Sahohime’s robes.” 3
Ensuring that winter’s darkness is broken by spring’s peaceful growth, Sahohime provides an image of a gentle goddess. Through art and poetry, she serves as a figure symbolizing spring and beautiful new life.
佐保姫の霞の衣ぬきをうすみ花の錦をたちやかさねむ
Sahohime no | kasumi no kinuki wo | usumi hana no | nishiki wo tachi | yakasa nemuOh, Sahohime
Clad in lightly woven mists
Soft, silken layers
Which settle delicately
And blossom into flowers- Emperor Gotoba-in, 12th century
See you next kō~
[Images & info courtesy of kurashikata.com, kurashi-no-hotorisya.jp, 543life.com, and Wikipedia except where otherwise noted]
This name can be taken to mean “the flame prince of harmony”
There is debate as to whether Sahohime the tragic empress and Sahohime the goddess of spring are the same figure, but the temple the enshrines her believes it to be so, and it’s more poetic this way
This story was first recorded in Japan’s oldest surviving book, the Kojiki, in which are written the myths and legends surrounding the country’s gods and their history
The version in this newsletter was written by me, using a variety of sources