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The Visible World and the Invisible World: Silk Textiles and Spiritual Culture
For the past 25 years, I have been immersed in the world of domestic Japanese silk textiles. My previous career was in education, where my focus was on the subconscious mind and the primordial consciousness that lies even deeper. At first glance, these two pursuits seemed to belong to completely different dimensions, and I believed it was impossible to sustain them both as a career simultaneously. I felt I had to choose one or the other. However, a recent event revealed that both had actually traveled to Japan along the same historical route.
More than 40 years ago, at the request of neighbors, I began teaching English to elementary school children. At that time, English was not yet part of the elementary school curriculum, so rather than "teaching," I experimented with various approaches to spark the children's interest. Yet, I wondered: even when taught in the same way, why do some children excel while others struggle? How can I help them all learn with the same level of interest? Searching for a hint, I rushed to a bookstore one day. There, I laid eyes on a bookâand in its first chapter, these words jumped out at me:
"Your brains are an uncharted wilderness!"
It explained that throughout our lives, we use only a few percent of our brain; the rest remains largely unexplored until death. I came to realize that the portion used for study and memory is primarily the left-brain, while the key lies in the subconsciousâand the primordial consciousness hidden even deeper within the right-brain. I immediately began experimental classes where children could experience their subconscious. Initially hesitant, the children became increasingly fascinated by these novel experiences absent from school, and the energy in the classroom grew day by day. They arrived with sparkling eyes, unsure if they were coming to a study session or some kind of adventure club. Eventually, I added a preschool program and held courses for junior high students and adults. I began to notice Japan's ancient customs and created original workshops designed to excite the part of the brain often called the "Seat of Life"âthe center of the subconscious. Little by little, the results began to show; students who had been struggling academically went on to pass their entrance exams one after another.
More than a decade later, I suddenly faced the greatest life crisis I had ever encountered. The life I had taken for granted changed overnight, and I lost everything, wandering the streets in despair. I will skip the details of how that happened, as it is a long story, but I reached a point of absolute extremity where I was prepared for death.
One day, while wandering aimlessly through mountain roads after running out of money at a weekly apartment where I had planned to start a business, it began to snow. As the road froze, the car I was driving skidded and nearly plunged off a cliff! In that moment, for some reason, instead of hitting the brakes, my foot unconsciously held the accelerator in a half-clutch state. Thinking, I guess this is it, I turned the steering wheel slightly to the right. There was a loud thud as I hit a rock, and the car came to a stop just centimeters from the edge of the cliff. I don't know how many hours passed, but I lost consciousness and awoke to the sound of multiple ambulance sirens. Holding my painful ribs, I stepped out of the car and fearfully peered over the cliff, only to see several other cars overturned below. I had survived. If I had pressed the brake back then, I likely would have lost control and fallen just like those other cars. By taking my foot off the brake and steering, I had happened to hit that rock. At that moment, I realized that my subconscious had saved me. I drove my barely functional car to the hospital and was immediately admitted.
Years before that event, something occurred that served as a foreshadowing of the life to come. Life has a way of showing omens of what is to follow. One day, I visited a silk textile and dyeing gallery, where the curator mentioned that a friendâa silk researcher specializing in hand-weavingâwas looking for a large amount of camellia wood. That afternoon, by chance, I was at a luncheon and mentioned this, only to learn that there were five or six massive, centuries-old camellia trees available. My heart ached at the thought of cutting down trees that had lived for hundreds of years, but my interest in dyeing was even greater. I went to retrieve the wood, which was then turned into ash to be used as a mordant for dyeing.
A few years later, hand-woven silk dyed with that camellia ash was exhibited at a gallery in Kyoto. The kimono fabric, woven with raw, unrefined silk from the Heian period, was light and had a crisp, refreshing texture. I let out a small, involuntary cry: "Oh, is this what silk is?"
To return to my story: after losing everything, I encountered the world of silk textiles. Together with the people I met at that time, I began my current work as a venture businessâdespite it being a traditional craftâaiming to restructure the quality and pricing of pure domestic silk. At international exhibitions, we caught the attention of renowned overseas brands, and I was able to offer customers clothing designed exactly as I envisioned. Before I knew it, I was doing the work I loved most, and it was bringing joy to others.
These two pathsâsilk textiles and the spiritual culture of Japan, which arrived alongside Eastern philosophies like Greek philosophy, Indian philosophy, and Buddhismâboth traveled the Silk Road. These spiritual cultures have long placed importance on exciting the functions within the human brain. That function is...
In the next installment, I will talk about the brain functions related to that invisible world, and the mysterious connections I have forged through various experiences in the visible world.
ããããããããããããMio Orimue