No one today can remember the time when Amaterasu Omikami, the Great Mother Sun, hid herself deep in the cave of heaven and refused to come out. But to those who know the story, every mirror is a reminder that there once was a time when all the spirits of living things had to join together to bring life back to the Earth.
In those very early times, the spirit of every living thing was called its kami. The kami of the mountain was lavender and long. The kami of trees was great and green. Animals' kami was as smooth as silk. The kami of rocks and rivers was silent as the moon. All the strength of these kami poured forth from Amaterasu Omikami, and in her honour the great pattern of the seasons of planting and harvest was woven.
One day it happened that Amaterasu Omikami fell into despair because of the actions of her jealous brother Susanowo. Some say he betrayed the Great Goddess by tearing through the rice paddies in a drunken fit of rage, until every plant in every field was broken and dying. Others remember Susanowo heaving a calf through the windows of the celestial weaving house, smashing the looms and breaking the sacred threads of connection between every living thing. But though some say this and some say that, everyone agrees on what happened next.
Amaterasu fled to the Cave of Heaven and locked herself inside. Without her light, all the realms of heaven and earth were plunged into darkness. The kami of the rice withered. The kami of the birds and animals and mountains and trees and fishes turned into frail ghosts. The earth and all that was of it began to die.
Eventually, and none too soon, the kami gathered together to discuss what to do. "We must moan and weep outside her cave," some said. "That will never work," said others. "Who wants to join a crowd that's moaning and weeping?" Finally someone said, "Let's have a celebration with stories that make us laugh and music that sets our feet tapping. And let's have dances with lots of stomping and whirling. Surely that will bring the Great Sun out of her cave."
Everyone agreed, but they decided that one more thing was needed: a huge mirror. "If we reflect Amaterasu's radiance back to her," they said to each other, "maybe she'll take heart and remember us. Maybe she'll return to the round of Life."
But as soon as they thought of the need for a great mirror, their courage failed. Because not one of them had the strength to lift such a mirror. Then someone said, in a voice so feeble that everyone had to strain to hear, "Let's each bring a tiny piece of mirror hidden in our clothes. As soon as Amaterasu Omikami peeks out of her cave, we'll all hold up our shards at the same time - and our tens of thousands will make a single mirror."
And that is precisely what they did. The very next day, all the kami in the world gathered outside the Cave of Heaven and slowly, almost inaudibly, started to sing. In time their voices rose high and deep into the night. But even while the kamis' drums beat their irresistible rhythms, and even while the kamis' feet stomped and tapped in splendid whirling dances, no one forgot to watch the door of the Cave of Heaven. Finally, very late in the evening, the cave door cracked open, and a single beam of light slipped out. Instantly, the kami lifted their slivers of mirror to Amaterasu's radiance.
The Goddess gasped in amazement. Fascinated, she took a step forward. And another. Soon she had stepped all the way out of her cave. Laughing and clapping her hands to see herself reflected in so many thousands upon thousands of forms, the Great Mother Sun danced all the way out of her hiding place and all the way into the wide blue sky.
Once again the kami of the mountains grew lavender and long. The kami of trees was great and green. Animals again had kami as smooth as silk. The kami of rocks and rivers and fish and flowers once more poured forth from the Great Mother Sun. And in her honour the pattern of the seasons of planting and harvest was again woven. And so it is to this very day.
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