Our visit began at the grounds of Gekû, the shrine dedicated to the deity of harvest. Because the surrounding area is considered holy, it is customary for one to cleanse their hands in the ablution spring before entering. A short distance away from the fountain lies a modest wooden torii gate, a formalized entry to the lush forest ahead. Once they have passed through it, the visitor becomes enveloped from the outside by a dense layer of trees. This sort of natural growth fills the entirety of the site, making one feel as though they are in a distant landscape, far from civilization.
One thing that I had not realized prior to our visit was the sheer size of the grounds. When walking along the gravel path, one feels as though they are on a long journey. This is due not only to the depth of the surrounding landscape, but also to the emphasis placed on the spatial sequence. Beyond every bend, there exists another shrine, each crafted in a manner just as beautifully as the last. These structures lay protected beyond layers of fencing, and as a result, remain undisturbed and pure.
Observing the prayer ritual heightened our experience even further, as it brought active, animate qualities to the site. At the head of each shrine, individuals will stop briefly to conduct a silent, internal prayer. Once finished, the worshipper will make two low bows followed by two pronounced claps. Though beautiful in its own right, the effects of the prayer are amplified even further by the multitudes of people conducting them, often giving way to simultaneous claps in separate locations.
Because it is so sacred, Naikû sits protected beyond layers of fencing, none of which the general public is allowed beyond. Therefore, the most we were able to see was a corner of the roof, which extended above the line of fencing. We did, however, watch as a woman was allowed further into the grounds to conduct her own prayer.
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