Faerie doors in a British forest – the stirrings of nature worship?

From the BBC website

I was absolutely delighted and intrigued to read in the BBC News that locals have been putting tiny faerie doors on trees in Wayford Woods, Crewkerne.

Regular readers of my blog may know that I am fascinated with Shinto customs of leaving little offerings in sacred forests, especially at hokora (miniature shrines) which look a little like Western “faerie houses.” This is done in order to give thanks to the kami of the forest and to ask for their continued blessings.

In Wayford Woods, the faerie doors have been put up in order to delight the local children, who leave messages and gifts for the faeries. Although it is being done whimsically, I can see a lot of parallels with the Shinto custom of leaving offerings for kami in nature. I feel that this movement expresses a real, subconscious need to express the sense of awe and respect for nature, and to somehow connect with the “spirits” of nature, which many Westerners see embodied in faeries. In fact, I find a lot of similarities between faeries and kami and I personally view faeries as simply a type of kami.

A “faerie house” left at the woods, looking very much like a Shinto hokora

Moreover, the offerings themselves do resemble the sort of offerings you might find in a sacred Japanese forest or shrine. The messages left by children remind me of the wishes people often write and leave at shrines, or those tied to bamboo at Tanabata. The doors perhaps serve a similar function to torii gates – a symbol of the divide between the mundane human world and the spiritual world of the fae. There are even tiny houses that bear an uncanny resemblance to  hokora there. Although entertaining children may be the primary reason for creating these faerie shrines, I suspect that adults too feel somehow fulfilled in viewing and contributing to these offerings.

The woods’ trustees have expressed some alarm and concern at the sheer amount of faerie doors and other offerings that have appeared in Wayford Woods, but I really hope they don’t try to stop this movement (provided it does not cause significant disruption to the natural ecosystem, which it doesn’t look like it will). To me, it’s a sign that people long to re-connect with their long lost spiritual relationship with nature, through reviving the stories of faeries. And once people are instilled with a feeling of wonder and respect for forests, they will certainly think twice about destroying them.

Naples Trip Part 1: Huge cathedrals and tiny shrines

One of the numerous little shrines you’ll find on the streets of Naples. This one is to San. Gennaro, Naples’ beloved patron saint

As my 30th birthday present, my husband took me on a trip to Naples last week. It’s been a dream of mine to visit there ever since learning all about Naples, Pompeii and Mt. Vesuvius in Latin class as a child. So I was really excited to go…and it was even more incredible than I imagined!

It’s a bit of a cliché to call a place “magical,” but I can’t think of a better word to describe Naples. From its ancient Roman ruins to its medieval streets to its colourful modern urban culture, there is something very otherworldly about Naples. And as a Pagan, I saw and experienced many things that filled me with joy. There’s a lot I want to share, so I’m going to spread the account of my Naples trip over several entries.

We arrived in the evening on Friday, and I was immediately struck by the weird, anarchic aesthetics of Centro Storico, the old part of the city where a large proportion of Naples’ most interesting sights are to be had. It’s very run-down, with peeling paint and graffiti on every wall, but it absolutely teems with life. And on each tiny street (crammed with people and motorbikes) you’ll often find some beautiful church or other historical site, making it the perfect place to just explore and soak up the atmosphere.

The first sight we visited was the cathedral (Duomo), which is free to enter and is open until the early evening. Most churches in Britain seem to close before sunset, so it was quite a treat for me to be able to visit a cathedral under the night sky!

Inside the Duomo

We first discovered Naples’ fascination with the skull motif in the Duomo – in fact, skulls are an important feature of religion and culture in Naples, both ancient and modern. Some attribute this to Naples’ proximity to Mt Vesuvius, and the ever-present threat of death it brings.

Another of Naples’ shrines

The Duomo is very beautiful, but in some ways, I actually found the tiny little shrines that are present all over the city (and especially the older, more run-down parts) even more intriguing. You’ll spot a shrine to Jesus, Mary or San Gennaro in almost every alleyway, usually illuminated at night; the story is that in the past criminals would steal street lamps, but putting the lamps in shrines would deter them. The shrines usually have offerings of flowers, and they are treated with great reverence; we spotted some locals make the sign of the cross as they passed.

They remind me so much of hokora, Japan’s roadside shrines. And they also demonstrated to me that Catholicism in Italy very much has a folk tradition that British Catholicism seems to lack. And as I later found out, there seems to be a link between Naples’ modern tradition of street shrines and its ancient Pagan past…

On Pagan “Temples”

Shinto shrines in Japan are designed to stand harmoniously within nature

There seem to be quite differing opinions within the Pagan community when it comes to the idea of building Pagan “temples.” On the one hand, some love the idea of having a building where Pagans can all go to honour the deities safely and comfortably. On the other hand, there are Pagans who see that their “temple” is all around them – in the form of the forests, rivers, mountains and oceans – and so a temple is not necessary.

When I read these debates, I always think that Shinto has a good solution. [Read more]

Spirit Houses in Asia

Spirit Houses by a sacred tree in Thailand. By Henry Flower at en.wikipedia (Transfered from en.wikipedia) [GFDL (www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) or CC-BY-SA-3.0

My fascination with hokora (small Shinto shrines) has led me to discover the “Spirit Houses” of Burma, Laos, Thailand and Cambodia. In the same way as hokora, these Spirit Houses are designed to function as a kind of shelter for the spirits. I know pretty much zero about South-East Asian folk religion, but from the little reading I’ve done on Wikipedia, it would appear that the spirits of these countries are very similar to the Shinto kami and the Roman lares, being numerous, invisible and associated strongly with nature.

As you can see from the photo, the Spirit Houses of South-East Asia do resemble hokora. They resemble tiny houses with pointed roofs, are not placed directly on the ground, and are often placed near sacred natural objects (such as a sacred tree). Offerings to the spirits are also placed by the Spirit Houses.

I find this overlap between Shinto and South East Asian folk religion extremely interesting. We often tend to think of Shinto as being the “native” Japanese religion, with the other main religion of Japan, Buddhism, being of continental Asian origin. But does the similarity of the kami to the South East Asian nature spirits, and the parallel in how they are venerated through hokora and spirit houses, hint at a historical link between the folk religions of Japan and South East Asia?

Or is the link a little broader than that? Not quite mere coincidence, it could be that the belief in folk spirits, and the need to venerate them in tiny house-like shrines, is fairly universal. The way in which the Romans venerated the Lares at a Lararium, and the current popularity of building tiny “faerie houses” in modern Western countries, would tend to support this idea.

Either way, I still find myself very much drawn to these tiny Spirit Houses from all cultures, and really want to make my own at some point.

Stroll through St Pancras Old Church grounds

The “Hardy Tree” in the St Pancras Old Church grounds , an ash tree surrounded by re-located gravestones, re-located by Thomas Hardy

As part of our “mini-moon” stay in London at the St Pancras Renaissance Hotel (a very generous wedding gift from my family!), James and I went to Camden (one of our favourite places in London) and dropped into St Pancras Old Church.

One of the oldest churches in England, St Pancras Old Church is tiny and has some very pleasant grounds indeed – it’s quiet and green and has quite a few famous monuments, including the “Hardy Tree” pictured above. It’s also associated with John Polidori, Mary Shelley and PB Shelley, which very much appeals to my interest in the Gothic.  The church itself is very nice inside as well – small and simple, it reminded me of Dode Church where we got married (except that it’s modernised and still used for Christian worship).

As I mentioned in a recent post, I still love visiting churches and churchyards, and becoming a Pagan has not changed this. If anything, I appreciate them even more because I can see so much in churches that you’ll also find in Pagan worship. St Pancras Old Church had water for blessing, incense burning, candles for visitors to offer and, right above the altar, a large golden sun motif – very Pagan indeed! Visiting churches simply reminds me of what the two religions have in common, particularly when practised at the small-scale local level (what I would term “folk” religion).

When exploring the church (unlike many functioning churches the altar is not roped off and visitors can walk all the way round), I discovered a little alcove right at the back with a single lit candle and a statue of a holy figure (I’m not sure who – I don’t think it was Saint Pancras himself because that saint was supposed to be only 14 when he was martyred and the statue was of an old man). This reminded me of the “miniature shrine” culture I’ve been looking into recently within Paganism, such as hokora in Shintoism. Again, an example of how there are so many overlapping traditions across different religions.

Since I mentioned Gothic, I thought I’d also share a photo taken from inside the St Pancras Renaissance Hotel itself. With it’s amazing, opulent Gothic revival architecture, I think it’s quite clear why I had dreamed of staying here for years!

Faerie Houses and Hokora

Faerie House created by MossyBraeFaeries. You can purchase them on Etsy at https://www.etsy.com/shop/MossyBraeFairies

In a recent post, I talked about Japanese hokora miniature shrines and how they look like little “faerie shrines.” Since then, I’ve been doing a little research into what could be the Western world’s nearest equivalent – “faerie houses.”

There’s a bit of an artistic movement of making tiny little houses like the one pictured here, designed to look as if a faerie would live in them, and they do remind me of hokora very much. Like hokora, they are miniaturised, use natural materials, are normally photographed outdoors, and usually take a rather primitive or organic shape (rather than looking like a house that a person would live in – that would just be a doll’s house).

But unlike hokora, for the most part there doesn’t seem to be a particular spiritual significance for the majority of faerie houses. They are made as an artistic expression and while the maker probably has a deep appreciation of faerie legends, they may not necessarily believe in faeries or other nature spirits. For this reason, I have not yet seen a faerie house with offerings places outside it.

However, in some of the cases, the makers do seem to have some sort of belief in faeries and place their faerie house in a particular spot outside where they can “attract” faeries. Whether or not these nature spirits are “venerated” in the same way kami are venerated in the hokora is another matter, but it interesting to see that some crafters of faerie houses do acknowledge that nature spirits could exist.

It’s interesting to see how something quite similar to hokora has cropped up in Western culture, and whether or not pagans might adopt something similar in order to venerate nature spirits (I personally would love to see this happen!)

Hokora – Japan’s “Faerie Shrines?”

More than any other, the type of shine that fascinates and enchants me most in Japan is the hokora, or miniature shrine. You can find these practically anywhere in Japan – on the grounds of larger jinja shrines, on country roadsides, on city street corners, or out in the middle of nature. Unlike jinja, these shrines are not necessarily under the control of any Shinto institution, and therefore represent a very pure form of folk Shinto.

Hokora can take many forms – just perform a Google image search to see. Some can be fairly large (the size of a cupboard or there abouts) and have many of the features of a formal jinja – of box for offering money, a bell to ring to summon the kami, shutters and so on. Others resemble kamidana in that they are miniaturisations of a full-size jinja, complete with tiny torii and suitably sized offering vessels (like the  hokora pictured above). The main difference between hokora and kamidana seems to be that kamidana are purely for inside worship, and also seem to have more rules about their layout and position than hokora.

From Wiki Commons

Others, like the one pictured left, are incredibly simple – just a tiny stone “house” with a few sacred items inside. Most rural hokora make use of the natural beauty around them and are made from natural materials such as stone or wood. Although varied, the defining characteristic of a hokora seems to be some sort of house-shaped enclosure, as if providing a home for the kami.

Typically, hokora enshrine minor kami of protection, although more major deities may be venerated in hokora too. The fox statues surrounding the hokora pictured on the top of the page indicate a connection with Inari Okamisama, while the hokora above (and many of the hokora I have personally seen in Japan) enshrine Jizo Bosatsu. Jizo is a very interesting deity, as he is originally a Buddhist Bodhisattva, who has come to be venerated as a protector of children and travellers as Japan. Often depicted as small and rather endearing, Jizo is a popular deity among the Japanese, and he is often worshipped in a similar manner to the Shinto kami. This is another example of the syncretic nature of Japanese religions, where at the folk level, Shinto, Buddhism and other folk beliefs merge so much that trying to separate them becomes very difficult and, arguably, meaningless.

This deceptively casual and humble nature of hokora is one of the things that I find so appealing about them. Unlike jinja, they do not represent any kind of mass institution with deep social and political links – instead, they are an individualistic expression of the spirituality of the common people.

I also find small size of hokora, particularly those with scaled-down versions of shrine features such as torii, of great interest. When I see these tiny houses out in nature, I am reminded of the numerous legends of faeries, pixies and “wee folk” that have existed throughout the British Isles. I cannot help but think that the kami venerated in these small hokora are somehow linked to the “week folk” – perhaps it would even be fitting to translate kami in this context as “faerie.”

Hokora remind me of something else quite familiar in Britain: Garden gnomes, and other such garden statues. But while hokora are sincerely revered as sacred spaces for kami (and the proliferation of offerings at hokora is proof of this), garden gnomes and their ilk are simply seen as whimsical, even tacky, decorative ornaments, and nothing more. Yet I cannot help that somehow, people place gnomes in the garden out of a deeply-seated, subconscious feeling that there are mysterious and benevolent forces of nature at work, and a desire to somehow reach out and revere this force. Gnomes, after all, were once respected as elemental spirits of the earth.

I do wish that something akin to hokora existed in British forests, fields and roadsides, even as just a reminder to respect our natural world (my own goal at the moment is to transform my rather drab Inari altar into something more like a hokora). I have a feeling that if we did try to make little Western Pagan-style hokora venerating the fae or other nature spirits, they would end up being vandalised. But if it did become a tradition here to set up small places for offerings to nature spirits, I think we would perhaps learn to value our diminishing places of natural beauty. And moreover, it would make us feel more spiritually fulfilled too.