Introduction | What Makes Japan So Fascinating, Really?

After becoming severely disabled in midlife, I’ve found myself thinking much more often about “Japan” as a place.

I can no longer just hop on a plane and casually travel overseas.
Backpacking lightly around the world is no longer realistic.

Precisely because of that, one question has stayed in my mind:

> “What is it that makes Japan so fascinating, really?”



In terms of economic growth, military power, or population,
Japan is no longer “number one” in the world.

And yet:

Tourists from all over the world still come here

People abroad continue to admire Japanese culture

And more than anything,


> I myself, having been born here, still quietly want to keep living my life in Japan



When I dig down to the root of that feeling, I always end up in the same place:

> The beauty and allure of Shinto may actually be the deep source of Japan’s charm.



Not because:

Shinto’s “teachings” are superior, or

Shrines have a brilliant business model


It’s something quieter, more invisible than that.

I feel that the worldview of Shinto itself quietly shapes:

how Japanese people live

the atmosphere of our towns

the way we relate to nature and to each other


In this article, I’ll try to dig into, as thoughtfully and gently as I can:

Where exactly the “beauty” and “allure” of Shinto lie

Why that is so closely tied to “Japaneseness”

And what Shinto has come to mean to me as a mid-career, severely disabled blogger


All of this is my personal, lived perspective—
but it’s a perspective I find impossible to ignore.


—

Table of Contents

1. Why Think About Shinto and Japan’s Charm Now?


2. The Beauty of Shinto (1) | Respecting What Cannot Be Explained in Words

A religion where “atmosphere” comes before doctrine

Eight Million Kami and respect for the smallest details of the world

“Kegare” and “Hare” – the rhythm between depletion and brightness



3. The Beauty of Shinto (2) | A Religion Understood Through the Body

Shrines as spaces where the body reacts before the mind

The short “dance” of two bows, two claps, one bow

Full of barriers, yet somehow not rejecting you



4. The Mystery of Shinto | A Religion That Doesn’t Feel Like a Religion

Are Japanese people really “non-religious”?

A worldview that allows “grey” instead of forcing black or white



5. Shinto as an OS That Absorbs Outside Influences

Shinbutsu-shūgō: an old wisdom of coexistence

How Japan “Shinto-izes” technology and capitalism



6. Why Shinto Has Helped Me as a Severely Disabled Person

A broken body and a sense of “defilement”

Kegare not as a stain but as a blockage to be released

Kami not as healers but as companions who stand beside you



7. The Hidden Role of Shinto Behind Japan’s Global Appeal

The strange and beautiful sight of convenience stores and shrines side by side

Shinto as the “OS” that never appears in travel brochures



8. Seven Small Daily Practices to Reconnect With the Beauty of Shinto


9. Frequently Asked Questions About Shinto’s Allure – My Personal Answers


10. Final Chapter | Receiving the Beauty of Shinto Not as “Tourism” but as a Way of Living




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1. Why Think About Shinto and Japan’s Charm Now?

Let’s zoom out for a moment.

Economic growth has stalled

Japan leads the world in population aging and low birth rate

Natural disasters are frequent, and the country is poor in natural resources


Looked at only through numbers, Japan is not exactly a “blessed” nation.

And yet:

Many people abroad say, “I want to visit Japan someday”

Those who come often say, “I want to visit again”

Japanese anime, manga, games, food, and architecture are loved worldwide


This vague attraction cannot be fully explained by:

Safety

Good hospitality

High-quality service


There must be something deeper at work—a sense that:

> “There is something beautiful in how Japan relates to the world itself.”



And the invisible “OS” that shapes that way of relating
may well be the worldview of Shinto.

This is the hypothesis I start from in writing this piece.


—

2. The Beauty of Shinto (1) | Respecting What Cannot Be Explained in Words

2-1 A Religion Where “Atmosphere” Comes Before Doctrine

Many religions have very clear “teachings”:

“Believe this”

“This is good; that is evil”

“The world began like this and will end like that”


But how does Shinto appear in our daily lives?

For most people, it’s more like:

“We go to a shrine for Hatsumōde at New Year’s, because that’s what you do”

“Before exams, we buy a good-luck charm, just in case”

“When we pass a small roadside shrine, we unconsciously slow our steps”


If asked, “Why do you do that?”
many of us would struggle to give a neat, logical explanation.

> “Because that’s how it’s always been.”
“It just feels like the right thing to do.”



We shouldn’t underestimate this “just feels right”.

It isn’t written down as doctrine

It isn’t taught as a manual

And yet it has been passed down across generations


This is a form of embodied wisdom,
and Shinto’s beauty lies in the way it quietly protects
these “things that cannot be explained but are clearly there”.

2-2 Eight Million Kami and Respect for the Smallest Details of the World

You may know the phrase “Yaoyorozu no Kami”—the “Eight Million Kami”.

It doesn’t literally mean “exactly eight million gods”.
It expresses a sense that:

> There is a sacredness worthy of being called “kami” in all things.



Mountains have kami

Rivers have kami

Wind has kami

Fire has kami

There is a kami of the kitchen, and even a kami of the toilet


From a strict modern rationalist viewpoint,
this way of seeing could be dismissed as “unscientific” or “inefficient”.

But this sensibility functions as an invisible brake:

It keeps us from treating nature as a resource to be exploited at will

It stops us from treating objects as mere disposable tools

It makes it harder to judge people only by “efficiency” or “productivity”


As someone who became severely disabled in midlife,
the idea of “yaoyorozu no kami” has become a lens
for looking at my own broken body.

> “Maybe this body, even in its damaged state,
still has some role or meaning left.”



When I began to think that way,
my perspective shifted from:

“A body that’s no longer useful”


to:

“A body that may be starting to serve a different role”


even if only slightly.

2-3 “Kegare” and “Hare” – The Rhythm Between Depletion and Brightness

Shinto uses two key concepts: kegare and hare.

It’s easy to oversimplify them as:

Kegare = dirty, bad

Hare = clean, good


but that misses the point.

Kegare is often explained as:

> “A state where one’s ki (vital energy) has withered.”



Illness, death, deep grief, and exhaustion:

They are not “sins” in Shinto

They are times when our life-energy has been depleted


That’s why:

From time to time, we need to purify, to misogi

To return to “hare” – a state where energy flows freely again


> Shinto invites us to see life not as “success vs. failure” or “win vs. lose”,
but as a rhythm between “times when our energy withers” and
“times when it gradually fills again”.



For me—after my life effectively turned to blank white once I became disabled—
this rhythm has been a major source of comfort.

> “Maybe this is not the end of the story.
Maybe this is the period when my energy has withered completely—
and from here, a different kind of ‘hare’ can slowly be nurtured again.”



Shinto gently teaches us to see life
not as a single linear path,
but as a series of waves in which our ki ebbs and flows.


—

3. The Beauty of Shinto (2) | A Religion Understood Through the Body

3-1 Shrines as Spaces Where the Body Reacts Before the Mind

After becoming disabled,
I started visiting shrines more often.

I walk more slowly now.
Climbing stone steps takes time.
But that slowness made me more aware of:

The feeling of gravel under my feet

The smell of wind moving through the trees

The way traffic noise seems to soften once you enter the grounds


When I step into the precincts of a shrine,
without anyone telling me to, my body naturally:

Lowers my voice

Shortens my stride

Straightens my back


> “This space is somehow different from where I was a moment ago.”



That “somehow” is hard to explain in words—
but the body notices it clearly.

Shinto is a religion that lets us sense
“different layers of the world” through our body
before we can rationally describe them.

3-2 The Short “Dance” of Two Bows, Two Claps, One Bow

At many shrines, the basic mode of worship is:

> Two bows, two claps, one bow.



1. Slightly bow before the offertory box


2. Lower your upper body deeply twice (two bows)


3. Raise your hands shoulder-width apart and clap twice (two claps)


4. Put your hands together and silently pray


5. Then bow deeply once more (one bow)



It’s only a brief series of movements—
yet it feels like a tiny dance.

The curious thing is:

There is no fixed formula of words you must recite

No scripture that all worshippers must memorize


What exists instead is:

> A minimum “container of movement”
into which your own prayer can be poured.



If you keep offering this small dance,
over time the inner noise—the chatter of your mind—
starts to lose its shape and slowly quiet down.

Your body begins to pray
before your head has decided exactly what to ask for.

This is one of Shinto’s most quiet and profound beauties.

3-3 Full of Barriers, Yet Somehow Not Rejecting You

To be honest, many shrines are far from barrier-free.

Long flights of stone steps

Uneven gravel paths

Few handrails


For wheelchair users, the elderly, or people with physical disabilities,
these spaces can be tough.

Even so, when I struggle up the steps,
breathing hard, one step at a time—
and finally reach the worship hall—
I’m always enveloped in a strange sense of ease.

No one says:

> “Welcome back.”
“Good job.”



And yet, standing in front of the main building, I feel:

I’m not being rejected

I’m not being measured

I’m not being evaluated


> “No one is asking in what condition I arrived here.
For now, it’s enough that I’m standing here, breathing.”



That wordless message is something
I feel in the very air of the shrine grounds.


—

4. The Mystery of Shinto | A Religion That Doesn’t Feel Like a Religion

4-1 Are Japanese People Really “Non-Religious”?

Many Japanese people describe themselves as:

> “I’m not religious.”



Yet those same “non-religious” people:

Go to shrines for New Year’s

Visit temples or churches for weddings and funerals

Celebrate Christmas

Welcome ancestral spirits home during Obon


From a global perspective,
this is quite a peculiar pattern.

It might be more accurate to say:

> “We don’t strongly self-identify with any one religion,
but we do have a way of relating to the world that is deeply religious.”



The OS underlying that way of relating
is a Shinto-like worldview.

4-2 A Religion That Doesn’t Ask, “Do You Believe?”

Many religions start from the question:

> “Do you believe in X?”



But in everyday Shinto,
very few people are ever asked this.

Instead, you encounter:

“Our family has been parishioners of this shrine for generations”

“We always had a household shrine (kamidana) at home”

“Since it’s my yakudoshi (critical age), I’ll go get purified”


These are less about “confessing faith”
and more about:

> “This is our way of life, our family habit, our local culture.”



So Shinto is simultaneously:

An individual faith, and

The shared air of a community


This double structure is part of Shinto’s mystery.

> People do not loudly declare, “I believe!”
Yet they are clearly being lived by this worldview.



This ambiguity is, I think,
one source of both the “strange strength” and the “strange fragility”
of the Japanese psyche.

4-3 A Worldview That Allows “Grey” Instead of Forcing Black or White

If you walk through shrine precincts carefully,
you’ll sometimes notice small shrines or stone markers at the edges:

Old stone towers whose origins no one remembers

Tiny roadside shrines whose founders are unknown

Half-eroded Buddhist statues


Judged only by rational efficiency,
one might say:

> “These are unsafe or pointless—let’s remove them.”



Yet in many cases, they are left as they are.

> “We don’t really know exactly what this is.
But maybe there is some meaning in its being here.”



This attitude of “leaving the unknown as it is”
is profoundly Shinto-like.

Modern society loves:

Quick labeling

Easy categorization

The feeling that we’ve “understood” things at a glance


Words like:

developmental disorder

HSP (highly sensitive person)

X-type / Y-type personality


can be helpful, of course.

But as labels multiply,
it can become harder and harder
to accept oneself in a truly “grey” state
without a neat explanation.

After becoming disabled,
I was repeatedly worn down
by that storm of labels and evaluations.

In that context, this Shinto-like stance:

> “It’s okay to leave some things unclassified and unexplained”



gives us back a very human kind of margin—
a space to simply be.


—

5. Shinto as an OS That Absorbs Outside Influences

5-1 Shinbutsu-shūgō: An Old Wisdom of Coexistence

Looking back at Japanese history,
Shinto has constantly faced the challenge of “the Other”.

A major example is shinbutsu-shūgō,
the blending of Shinto and Buddhism.

Even today, you can find scenes like:

A Jizō statue standing quietly in a shrine precinct

A Buddhist temple that enshrines kami along with buddhas

Mountains revered simultaneously as “kami” and as places of Buddhist practice


At first glance, this looks like chaos.

But it’s actually:

> “A way of explicitly recognizing that two things are different,
and still choosing to let them share the same space.”



Shinto could have treated Buddhism as an enemy to be rejected.

Instead, what Japan actually chose was:

> “You are who you are—we will respect that.
Please get along with our kami as best you can.”



This gentle “absorbing power”
is a very old wisdom about coexistence.

In an age where diversity and inclusion are buzzwords,
this ancient example has a surprisingly fresh relevance.

5-2 How Japan “Shinto-izes” Technology and Capitalism

In modern Japan, this absorbing power is still at work.

Consider:

Shrines that accept cashless payments

Goshuin (shrine/temple stamps) updated with designs that go viral on SNS

Shrines that run active social media accounts


One could criticize this as
“sacredness being contaminated by business and technology”.

But there is another way to see it:

> “New technologies are being reinterpreted as tools that serve the kami.”



Shinto is not just:

A conservative force that clings to “the old ways”


It is also:

A flexible force that translates new things into its own language


That quiet flexibility is still at work today.

And here, I glimpse a small hope.

> “If Shinto can absorb technology and capitalism,
might it also, someday, absorb disability and other forms of difference
more deeply and tenderly?”



Beyond buzzwords like “universal design” or “inclusion”,
I dream of a future where a Shinto-inspired worldview
gives rise to spaces that:

> “Accept difference as it is, including the way it exists and is placed.”




—

6. Why Shinto Has Helped Me as a Severely Disabled Person

From here, I’d like to be a bit more personal.

6-1 A Broken Body and a Sense of “Defilement”

When I became severely disabled in midlife,
a heavy sense of kegare spread through my heart.

I can’t work like I used to

I can’t earn like I used to

I’m no longer a “useful resource” to society


Measured against society’s yardstick,
it felt like I had fallen out of the “useful human” category
into the “useless human” one.

That feeling gradually made me perceive myself
as a kind of “stain” on the world.

> “A person like me probably belongs at the margins of society.”



I lived with that thought for a long time.

6-2 Kegare Not as a Stain but as a Blockage to Be Released

But as I learned more about Shinto’s idea of kegare and purification,
my understanding of the word began to shift.

In Shinto:

Kegare is not always a sin

Nor is it a punishment

Nor an irreversible flaw


Kegare is more like:

> “A kind of blockage that inevitably builds up as we live.”



That’s why purification is needed—
to release it.

Crucially:

> Purification is not a ritual for turning a “bad you” into someone else.
It’s a reset that helps you return to your original self more easily.



I never expected that a purification ritual
would physically cure my disability.

But when I stand before a shrine and bow my head,

The clinging self-blame

The relentless inner critic

The habit of measuring my worth only by “useful/useless”


all of that loosens just a little.

> “Maybe living on with this broken body
is not entirely meaningless after all.”



For me, that feeling is what “purification” means.

6-3 Kami Not as Healers but as Companions Who Stand Beside You

In many religions, God is seen as a healer.

I don’t deny that kind of faith.
But the kami of Shinto, as I sense them, are a bit different.

My prayer at the shrine tends to sound like this:

> “Living like this, in this body, is honestly exhausting.
But I still want to try not to run away from my life.
Could you stay here with me while I endure today?”



The kami do not miraculously restore my health.
They do not promise a dramatic miracle.

Yet I feel that:

> “The choice to remain in this world with a broken body
is not utterly meaningless.”



is quietly affirmed.

That gentle affirmation—
not of success, not of health,
but of my continued existence—
is, for me, the core of Shinto’s allure.


—

7. The Hidden Role of Shinto Behind Japan’s Global Appeal

7-1 The Strange and Beautiful Sight of Convenience Stores and Shrines Side by Side

Walk through a regional town in Japan and you may see:

A convenience store standing right beside an old shrine

A shrine roof peeking out under a highway overpass

A tiny roadside altar left in a corner of a modern rotary


From a purely economic standpoint,
someone might say:

> “This land would be more profitable as parking or commercial space.”



And yet, in many cases, the shrine or altar remains.

> “This place may hold something important that can’t be measured by money—
something invisible yet precious.”



That belief—a trust in invisible value—
still survives in Japan.

These slightly surreal but oddly warm scenes
show a piece of what I call “Japan’s true charm”.

7-2 Shinto as the “OS” That Never Appears in Travel Brochures

Japan’s selling points are familiar:

Cherry blossoms

Autumn leaves

Hot springs

Sushi and washoku

Anime and manga


They’re all wonderful.
But they’re “applications”.

Beneath them runs an unadvertised operating system—
a Shinto-like way of relating to the world.

Consider:

Cherishing the change of the seasons

Treating objects with respect (needle memorials, doll memorials, etc.)

Holding rituals at life’s turning points (birth, growth milestones, marriage, critical ages)


All of these express a desire to:

> “Properly acknowledge the invisible side of things.”



Shinto has been giving this desire
both language and ritual form.

In that sense, Shinto’s beauty and allure are like:

> An OS that makes cherry blossoms feel more poignant,
hot springs more healing,
and everyday life more “worth living”.




—

8. Seven Small Daily Practices to Reconnect With the Beauty of Shinto

If you’ve read this far, you might be wondering:

> “So how can I feel the beauty of Shinto in my own life?”



Here are seven small practices
that even I, as a severely disabled person,
can manage to continue.

8-1 A One-Minute “Mini-Misogi” – Open the Window and Breathe

No fancy tools or complex rituals needed:

1. Open your window in the morning


2. Slowly exhale three times, as long and deeply as you can


3. Then inhale slowly three times



That’s it.

If you like, imagine:

Breath