Photo/Illutration Jogu Jinja shrine, affectionately known by locals as “the shrine of childbirth,” is also considered a protector shrine for voyages and fishing. It features an abundance of natural beauty that changes from season to season, such as plum blossoms, cherry blossoms and fall colors. (Photo by Lisa Vogt)

Ha-ha, fuu-fuu, ha-ha, fuu-fuu ... I grinned to myself thinking about the Lamaze method (of a pregnant woman breathing in and breathing out while delivering a newborn) as I bowed, clapped twice and bowed again in front of Jogu Jinja shrine.

This shrine, located right alongside Irogahama beach in Fukui Prefecture, is known as "Osan-no-Joko-san," or the shrine of childbirth.

Empress Consort Jingu, legend tells us, at this spot put on a bellyband and gave birth to an imperial prince who would later become Emperor Ojin. She was a Japanese empress said to have lived from 169 to 269.

I’m not carrying a child, but I am birthing a new phase right now as I steer my life in a new direction. Like an expectant mother who doesn’t know what’s to come, it’s an exciting time for me, and any spiritual guidance and assistance are welcome.

On the shrine grounds is a stone statue of Ebisu holding a bamboo fishing rod and tucked under one arm a huge fish, which I presume is a sea bream.

The Japanese god is sitting upon a stone with the inscription "tairyo" (a bumper catch or large haul of fish). How appropriate! Seeing the smiling deity with absurdly large earlobes and potbelly that begs you to pat it at a shrine so close to the ocean puts the deity in a new light and makes such sense.

As I was leaving the premises, I came upon a red table next to a gate with something on it. Intrigued, I went up to see what it was and found a wooden box divided into three sections with various seashells inside. A slip of paper read, “Small masuho shells that Basho picked up at Irogahama beach.”

Basho, the poet? Well, who else? He created the following haiku at the beach here: "nami no ma ya, kogai ni majiru, hagi no chiri."

The poem is about how beautiful hagi flower (bush clover) debris and small red seashells remain after waves recede.

The delicate flower petals will soon disappear, but the shells will endure. As I create a new life for myself, I think about what is ephemeral and what is not. I gaze back at the shrine and Ebisu-sama, then out to the open waters.

What a perfect place to start a new journey!

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This article by Lisa Vogt, a Washington-born and Tokyo-based photographer, originally appeared in the March 5 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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