post-World War II picture began to look much like the pre-Meiji picture.

But other post-war regulations had an eroding effect on the practice and understanding of the indigenous religion. For example, mythology was no longer included in school texts, so people could no longer find moral and inspirational guidance from the myths’ sacred meanings; they simply weren’t aware of the stories or weren’t versed in their interpretations. The received wisdom of the ages became inaccessible.

Just as significantly, the trauma of World War II left the general populous with deeply insecure feelings about their religion. Today, I notice a general reluctance on the part of many Japanese to speak of their indigenous religion, as if the very word Shinto were taboo. I think this is partly due to their own lack of knowledge about Shinto, and partly due to their sense of culpability in having been duped by the false teachings of their leaders. Shinto – and its connection with nature, and its instructive stories – has been hobbled by its recent past. One of the saddest aspects of the modern era is the loss of connection between human beings and nature.

When worshipers go to a shrine they feel a connection to the kami because of nature. It is no accident that paths are covered in pea-gravel instead of bricks; fences are constructed of bamboo instead of iron; torii are constructed from tree trunks instead of concrete; fountains are rough-cut from whole rock; and buildings are sheathed in unpainted wood. When worshipers walk through a shrine’s grove of trees with its filtered light, and hear their footsteps on the path, and feel the natural resonance of rock and wood and water, they are placed in a reverent mood, and good things happen. Sadly, when worshipers return to their daily routine, they become immersed in a modern world of composite materials and synthetic textures. The cement buildings, the fluorescent lights, and the plastic furniture all weary their bodies. And these things break their connection to nature. And their souls shrink in protective gestures. This is a tragedy.