By LISA VOGT/ Special to Asahi Weekly
June 8, 2021 at 07:30 JST
Hum along, folks, to the opening melody of the film, “To-to-ro, Totoro, To-to-ro, Totoro. Somebody secretly buries a berry ...” The “My Neighbor Totoro” theme song brings a smile to many a face.
Do you recall where Totoro lived? If you answered, “In a tree!” then you get one point. If you answered, “In a kusunoki, a camphor tree!” you’ve earned yourself double points.
The official largest camphor tree in Japan is at Kamou Hachiman shrine in Kamou-cho, Kagoshima Prefecture. It boasts an enormous 33.57-meter root circumference and is 30 meters tall. At its base is a 4.5-meter hollow with a door.
Through the years, children played in, and people took refuge inside, this tree. According to the literature, the shrine was erected on Feb. 21, 1123. The tree had stood there being worshipped as a sacred tree from well before then.
It’s estimated to be about 1,500 years old, so doing the math puts the tree in that spot around the year 521. If the tree could talk, it would have an encyclopedia of stories to tell!
Kusunoki has medicinal and aromatic qualities. One theory about its etymology is that the tree was originally called "kusuri-no-ki," which got shortened to kusunoki. There’s an old poetic Japanese word, "kusushi" or "kusushiki," meaning mysterious or wonderous. Camphor oil is a pain reliever and medicine, and its healing powers may have coined the word "kusuri," too.
Gazing up at the huge sacred kusunoki, it doesn’t take much imagination to see its spiritual and symbolic significance. It must be in our nature to revere large old trees, yet there aren’t many such trees left.
Looking out a Shinkansen window, you may see a bunch of big old trees in a clump--it is likely a temple or shrine is there. It brings me solace that such places are protected, for the most part.
From ancient times, Japanese sensed all sorts of tutelary deities in their surroundings. Trees that have been around for a long time are said to house spirits, hence Totoro.
Since only a fortuitous combination of factors enable a tree like the “Kamou no Ohkusu” to grow to its current size, it’s only natural that we’re awed and seek comfort and protection just by being near it. I gave the tree a virtual hug, as it is surrounded by a wooden fenced pathway that blocks people from physically touching it. Still, it felt good.
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This article by Lisa Vogt, a Washington-born and Tokyo-based photographer, originally appeared in the May 2-9 issue of Asahi Weekly. It is part of the series "Lisa’s Wanderings Around Japan," which depicts various places across the country through the perspective of the author, a professor at Meiji University.
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