Written by a mindfulness tea teacher, Miki Sensei.
How much attention do you give to the moon in your daily life?
In Japan, telling someone special, "The moon is beautiful tonight," can be a subtle way of saying, "I love you" (though apparently, not everyone catches the meaning…).
Japanese people have long cherished the moon, and our culture is rich in lunar traditions. This is because our ancestors lived according to the traditional lunisolar calendar, aligning their lives with the waxing and waning of the sun and moon. Over the past century, since the Gregorian calendar became widespread in the Meiji period, society as a whole has pushed for efficiency that often runs counter to the flow of nature. Today, people around the world are beginning to recognize the limits of this linear, consumptive way of life, driven by a relentless rush from past to future.
In Japan, a land blessed with four distinct seasons, respect and gratitude for all life nurtured by the sun and moon, and for the connections among living things are deeply rooted in the culture. This outlook forms the foundation of Japan's unique spiritual tradition of 八百万の神 (Yaoyorozu no Kami), the eight million gods and spirits of nature. By attuning ourselves to the cyclical rhythms of these celestial bodies, we inherit the wisdom of living in harmony with nature: to be born, fade away, encounter one another, circulate, and connect, just as nature itself does.
As a quick side note, some say that nature in Japan was so utterly natural that there was originally no word for "nature" itself; it's said that when translating the foreign word "nature," the characters were chosen to mean "being as it naturally is" (自ずから然る, “onozukara shikaru”).
Similarly, Japanese people are said to have the lowest sense of self-esteem among developed nations, but the same logic applies here: since simply being alive is itself an affirmation, there is no need for a word (or concept) like "self-esteem," and Japanese people are equally surprised to hear that other countries lack such a concept.
That is how much the moon is part of our daily life—in other words, how much it is a part of us. In Japanese, there is a belief in kotodama—the spiritual power of words—in which words that share the same sound are thought to have shared roots and resonances. The word for moon, tsuki (月), is phonetically identical to tsuki (付き or 着き), meaning "to adhere to," "to be attached," or "to be as one." Also, when you look at the Kanji characters for internal organs like the heart (心臓 “shinzo”) or liver (肝臓, “kanzo”), they are almost all written with the "moon" radical (月).
Note: This article considers the Japanese character “月” conceptually in relation to both the moon-related “tsuki” component and the visually identical “nikuzuki” component found in characters associated with the body and flesh. Nikuzuki derives from the character “肉” (flesh or meat), so its etymological origin is distinct from that of “月,” meaning “moon.” Any connection drawn here between the moon and the human body is intended as symbolic and conceptual, not etymological.
The moon, bound to the earth, is linked with water through the ebb and flow of tides. Since our bodies are made up mostly of water, it's only natural that we are affected by lunar cycles in much the same way. This is why snakes and frogs, which live both on land and in water, are believed to serve as the messengers of the moon.
Let’s look at the moon from another angle. In Japan, "the moon" evokes autumn. There is a tradition of admiring the harvest moon, known as the 中秋の名月 (chushu no meigetsu) on the 15th day of the 8th month of the lunar calendar. It falls on September 27th this year and is said to be the most beautiful full moon of the year (though because it follows the 15th night of the lunar calendar, it can vary slightly from the astronomical full moon).
This moon-viewing custom originated with China’s Mid-Autumn Festival and was introduced to Japan during the Heian period (8th to 12th centuries). It began among aristocrats who gathered to admire the moon, compose poetry, and contemplate its reflection in garden ponds and sake cups. Later, farmers, who relied on lunar phases to time their planting and harvesting, began offering dumplings and other foods in gratitude for a bountiful harvest. In this way, the custom of moon viewing, or otsukimi, gradually spread throughout Japan.
Because taro and other root vegetables were traditionally offered, the dumplings came to be shaped like tubers in the Kansai region and full moons in the Kanto region. This is also why the Mid-Autumn Moon is affectionately known as the “Taro Moon” (Imo Meigetsu). Japanese pampas grass (susuki) is displayed alongside the offerings as a dwelling place for the gods and, because it resembles ears of rice, as a symbol of hope for a bountiful harvest.
And the Japanese say that a rabbit lives on the moon, pounding mochi. Perhaps you can see it there. How is it described in your country?
Lastly, I’d like to share a Chinese poem, a Zen phrase from this season that is often displayed at tea gatherings, and one of my favorites:
"掬水月在手"
(Kiku sui tsuki te ni ari)
This is difficult to translate, even within Japanese, but put simply, it means "if you scoop up water, the moon is in your hands."
Let’s explore its meaning a little deeper. Rather than simply admiring the moon reflected on the water’s surface, reach out with a serene mind and touch it; you may find it is already there in your hands. The moon, a symbol of ultimate beauty and truth, may seem distant. Yet through the way we engage with it, we can realize that it is already alive within us, here and now.
I am deeply grateful for the opportunity that allows us to look up at the same moon today.
Written by:
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Miki Fujisaki, hibana to bloom founder, mindfulness tea facilitator/coach Website: https://www.hibana-to-bloom.com/ Instagram: @hibanatobloom / @mikiwisteria |
Miki was born in Osaka and began her journey in Urasenke Chado while working as a Japan Airlines cabin attendant. During her time in London, she planned and managed Japanese cafes ("Matcha" and "Cha no Ma"), and after her return to Japan, she oversaw international project planning.
To deepen her understanding of spaces and relationships where individuals coexist, illuminate, and nurture, Miki studied coaching and facilitation. Currently, she holds tea gatherings and coaching sessions for individuals and companies in tea rooms, offices, online, and overseas. Her work is centered around the theme of interbeing, cultivating a sense of interconnectedness, mindfulness, and "here-and-now."