Supernatural and Mysterious Japan. Catrien Ross

customers must come with an open mind. Skeptics and naysayers are not welcome, and anyone who voices initial suspicion is asked to leave, a policy Hisamura justifies by noting that he does not charge for admission to the show.

      After customers have eaten, the display begins. On a typical day, Hisamura, wearing an apron and rolling up his sleeves, joins his audience. A favorite opener is to ask for a customer’s cigarette, which he places on his palm, where it levitates and jumps. When he places the same cigarette in a glass, it pops right out. Borrowing a watch, he stops the long hand at the time he specifies aloud. Again, using no hands, he sets another watch at a time requested by a customer. Someone in the audience is asked to touch Hisamura, who then slows or stops his own pulse. Another customer draws a picture, which Hisamura duplicates without ever seeing it. One government researcher who watched Hisamura’s performance listed at least twenty-eight observed feats. A spoon bends or becomes a fork. Bolts bend. Coins grow bigger. Dice are controlled. Raw egg appears out of tissue paper. Paper money floats above Hisamura’s hands or moves around inside a glass container.

      Is all this really supernatural ability? Some critics dismiss Hisamura as a mere conjurer, and a shabby one at that. Others, among them the chairman of Sony Corporation, are impressed by his talents, convinced that his psychokinetic powers are genuine. A book about Hisamura’s life details the history of his supernatural development and life philosophy, but the jury is still out. Meanwhile, Andersen customers continue to delight in his shows, enthusiastically oohing and aahing with each new feat. Viewing is limited, however. A notice on the wall requests anyone who has seen the show once to wait at least one month before returning. Someone who has seen him twice already is asked to come back at least three months later. Hisamura’s reasoning is that other people should have a chance to see his free demonstrations of what he calls psychic mind over matter.

      In examining the supernatural in Japanese society, it is important to bear in mind that the activities at Mount Osore and Andersen, while not exactly ordinary, are by no means rare. In fact, they are just two examples of the persistent fascination with the supernatural that has characterized Japanese culture from its beginning.

      Elements of the supernatural permeate Japan’s folklore and traditions, and a sense of the mysterious remains a dynamic force today. In a bustling megalopolis like Tokyo, where some twelve million people support the economic behemoth that is modern Japan, the search for the supernatural is easily obscured from the casual observer. A closer look, however, reveals that not only does interest in the supernatural endure, but in recent years it has actually increased as Japanese people have sought to combine their economic efforts with a striving for spiritual gratification. In the search for life’s deeper meaning, a probe into the supernatural seems a natural progression.

      Take the mass media, for example. The supernatural is one of the most popular topics in the entertainment world, and psychics and mediums make regular television appearances. Books on the paranormal become instant bestsellers, and entire magazines are now devoted to various psychic phenomena. Classes in the supernatural are sought after by everyone from college students to the elderly, and there is a burgeoning network of courses in psychic power enhancement. Some of these are linked to religious groups or associations, long known for their training in supernatural techniques. Others are headed by individuals who have undergone a personal, mystic experience. Indeed, self-appointed gurus of the supernatural abound, and sales of paraphernalia for developing individual psychic potential are brisk.

      Each week, it seems, there is a growing number of advertisements for lectures in such subjects as psychokinesis, clairvoyance, telepathy, astral travel, channeling, and even UFO investigations. What’s more, the roster of so-called ordinary people who have become psychic celebrities continues to swell. There is the sarariiman (white-collar, salaried employee) whose unexpectedly awakened healing gifts have brought him nationwide fame. A movie about his life has already been released. Another healer, a former veterinarian, cures a host of ailments using only his hands and eyes. Japanese television cameras follow a well-known medium as she trots the globe in her attempt to contact spirits of the dead.

      In this nation where meditating monks exist side by side with staid-suited white-collar workers, esoteric mystic practices have never lost their appeal. Secretive sects and reclusive spiritual groups have existed for centuries, each with its own methods of tapping the supernatural. There is also an established history of bizarre cults, many of which are based on the perceived psychic power of their founders. Shake most religious sects and out will probably fall a leader with paranormal talents that initially attracted followers. In Japan the spiritual quest and supernatural awakening have often been synonymous.

      In other words, the search for the supernatural is not a recent phenomenon. A look at the roots of Japanese mythology reveals that Japan brims over with gods and goddesses, resulting in what is known as the “rush hour of the gods.” There are said to be eight million deities, who reside not only in Paradise, but also everywhere on earth. These deities, or kami, live in mountains, rivers, lakes, forests, rocks, and individual homes, according to the pantheon of Shinto, which literally means the “kami way.” The term kami basically is a title for any honorable, sacred spirit, and since all beings have such spirits, anything can be a kami. They are thus believed to be represented by everything from Mount Fuji to the household cooking stove. They are even found in the toilet. In Japan the most lofty to the most mundane is endowed with supernatural properties.

      Nor is every deity benevolent. Numerous demons, or oni, are thought of as malignant supernatural forces believed to mirror the dark side of human nature. Destructive to the world of humankind, these incarnate universal forces exert evil influence which must be guarded against or purified. Millions of Japanese people carry small charms to ward off demons or any misfortune they might cause. And a ritual of demon expulsion is carried out by many Japanese housewives as a way of marking the end of winter on a day called setsubun. Demons also represent natural forces such as wind and thunder, the storm spirits with their devastating anger.

      To these native animistic beliefs, so closely linked with nature, have been added the deities of Buddhism, a religion which came to Japan around 552, bringing supernatural overtones from India, China, and Korea. A demon queller from China’s Tang dynasty (618–907), for example, was readily adopted into Japanese folk mythology as Shoki. Later Buddhist portrayals of this entity depict him as one of hell’s judges in the “hell scrolls,” or Jigoku-zoshoi of Japan’s Kamakura era (1185–1392). Another import from China were tales of the eight immortals of Taoism. These were believed to be historical personages who had achieved human transcendence through rigorous refinement of body and mind into a supernatural state. As Zen Buddhist thought developed in Japan, these immortals came to symbolize intellectual and spiritual freedom.

      Then there are the goblins. Japanese mountain temples often display the mask of the long-nosed goblin known as the tengu. The tengu, which looks like a ferocious Pinocchio, may have been introduced into Japan from India by way of China, and may derive from the Hindu Buddhist guardian Garuda, the mythical bird deity able to transform its shape. A messenger and helper to the gods, Garuda is also an enemy of serpents and demons. At the Todaiji temple in Nara, there are wooden masks of scowling bird heads and long-nosed men that are thought to have been carved in the seventh and eighth centuries. Now protected as “National Treasures,” such masks were once used in gigaku performances, religious dances which originated in Tibet and India and arrived in Japan by way of Korea in 612. Although no longer danced today, gigaku were once considered the proper musical accompaniment to prayer in Japan’s Buddhist temples.

      This mask depicts a long-nosed tengu, or mountain goblin.

      With its magical powers, the tengu figures prominently in earlier Japanese folk tales and legends, and there are also close ties to Buddhist lore. In Japan, the tengu lost some of its fearsome and revered nature, becoming an impish goblin among whose favorite tricks was changing into the form of a Buddhist priest or nun, or even Buddha. In such guises, it would waylay unsuspecting monks, or lead them down the wrong path. Japanese tengu also evolved into two distinct types: karasu tengu, a crow-headed figure which has a body covered by feathers and long claws in the place of fingers and toes; and konoha tengu, the long-nosed kind. During the