（伊邪那美の愛――日本的“ものづくり”の源流）
What can ancient myths teach us in an age of technology and globalization? This essay explores the story of Izanagi and Izanami—the first divine couple of Japan—and reveals how their love, responsibilities, and trials still shape Japanese values today. Far more than a romance, their tale is a moral blueprint that links creation, order, and fidelity across generations.
The entrance to Yomotsuhirasaka (the slope to the underworld) in Iya, Higashiizumo, Matsue City, Shimane Prefecture, featuring sacred rocks and a small wooden shrine surrounded by forest.
1. Introduction: Why Ancient Myths Still Matter
Myths are not merely old tales told to amuse children. They are vessels of values, carrying the wisdom and warnings of our ancestors across centuries. In Japan, the Kojiki—our earliest chronicle—does more than recount the birth of gods and islands. It preserves the spirit that shaped a nation: the love between Izanagi and Izanami, the divine command to “create and make firm,” and the moral lessons hidden within their trials.
For many in the modern world, history is understood only as facts—dates, events, and names. But the Japanese tradition teaches that history is also about learning values through its stories, values that guide us in living today. It is not just about what happened, but about what we can learn from those stories: how to live, how to build, and how to remain true even in the face of loss.
This is why ancient myths still matter. They are not only echoes of the past but also guiding lights for the present and future.
2. The Divine Mission: Tsukurikatamenase
When the deities Izanagi and Izanami were entrusted with shaping the land below, they received a divine command: tsukurikatamenase—“create and make firm.” At first glance, this may sound like a simple order to build. Yet its meaning runs far deeper.
In truth, nothing in this world has ever been created by human hands alone. Everything we use—wood, stone, iron, even the rarest minerals—was first created by the gods. What humans do is not true creation, but transformation: we shape, repair, and adapt what has already been given. From the earliest stone axes to today’s smartphones, every tool exists only because the raw materials were gifts of the divine. In this sense, all things remain the property of the gods, and our so-called “making” is simply borrowing, refining, and using with gratitude.
To “make firm,” then, is to ensure that what we have shaped endures. It is to strengthen, stabilize, and preserve the divine gifts entrusted to us, so that they may continue to serve life for generations.
This interpretation reveals why Japanese culture has long regarded tools themselves as sacred. The heavenly spear, given to Izanagi and Izanami to stir the chaotic sea, was not merely a weapon but a divine trust. From carpenters to craftsmen, generations of Japanese have cared for their tools as if for their own lives. Creation, in the Japanese spirit, is not the pride of inventing from nothing but the humility of honoring what has been given and ensuring its lasting value.
3. Love, Order, and the Birth of Nations
The union of Izanagi and Izanami is not told as a simple romance but as a profound teaching. When the female deity, Izanami, first spoke words of affection before her partner, it disrupted the natural order. From that disruption was born a deformed child. Later, following the counsel of the higher gods, Izanagi spoke first, and from their renewed union healthy islands were born. This myth conveys a deep truth: love alone is not enough—love requires order. Without order, love can give rise to injustice and imbalance. When a man and woman unite to form a household and bring forth children, they must confront realities and responsibilities that love alone cannot resolve. Order naturally becomes essential.
The story also emphasizes the importance of consultation. When faced with failure, the divine couple did not rely solely on their love to overcome the problem. They sought the guidance of other gods, received correction, and then tried again. This reveals a timeless principle: no one should bear heavy burdens alone. Even the greatest deities required advice and adjustment.
From this narrative, three pillars emerge:
1. Love —the bond that unites people.
2. Order —the recognition that harmony and proper sequence are necessary for life to flourish.
3. Consultation —the humility to seek wisdom beyond oneself.
From this triad was born the Japanese understanding of community. A nation is not the product of passion or power alone. It is love, disciplined by order, sustained through counsel, and expressed in acts of creation. In this sense, the myth of Izanagi and Izanami is not merely about the birth of islands but about the moral blueprint upon which society itself rests.
4. Death, Love, and the Descent into Yomi
The myth deepens when Izanami dies after giving birth to the fire god. Stricken with grief, Izanagi cannot let go of his beloved wife. He journeys to Yomi—the land of the dead—seeking to bring her back. This act captures something deeply human: the refusal to accept loss, the desperate longing to see a loved one once more.
At the gates of Yomi, Izanagi calls out, “My beloved wife, the land we built together is not yet complete. Return with me.” Izanami answers with tenderness, but she has already eaten the food of the underworld and can no longer leave. She promises to consult the gods of Yomi, but warns him: “Do not look upon me.”
Of course, being human—or even divine—such warnings often stir curiosity. Izanagi, overcome with longing, peeks at his wife. But what he sees is not the radiant goddess he remembered, but a terrifying figure transformed by death. Horrified, he flees, pursued by the monsters of Yomi unleashed by Izanami’s shame and anger.
This episode teaches more than a tragic love story. It reflects the fragility of human desire: the inability to restrain curiosity, the pain of seeing what one is not meant to see. It also underscores a fundamental truth—even love has boundaries shaped by death.
Yet, the myth does not end in despair. At the border between worlds, Izanami cries out in anguish, “If you abandon me, I will take a thousand lives each day.” To which Izanagi responds, “If you do, I will build fifteen hundred birth-huts each day.” Love, even in separation, is transformed into responsibility: the woman becomes the goddess of death, and the man takes upon himself the duty of life and renewal.
Here again we find a moral blueprint. Women embody the depth and fierceness of love, even beyond death. Men, though broken by loss, are tasked with building, sustaining, and carrying on. Together, these roles define not only gendered archetypes but also the rhythms of human society: grief and responsibility, loss and renewal.
5. East and West: Izanagi vs. Orpheus
When we compare the Japanese myth of Izanagi and Izanami with the Greek tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, a striking difference emerges. Both stories begin with the same motif: a man descends into the realm of the dead, driven by his longing to be reunited with his beloved. Both feature the critical warning: “Do not look back.” Yet their endings and the lessons they convey diverge sharply.
Orpheus, the master of the lyre, charms Hades with his music and is granted permission to lead Eurydice back to the living world—on one condition. Overcome by passion and doubt, he looks back before reaching the surface. Eurydice vanishes forever, and Orpheus himself ultimately meets a tragic death. The myth is powerful, but it remains a story of love and loss, ending in despair. It offers little guidance beyond the intensity of personal emotion.
By contrast, Izanagi’s journey to Yomi unfolds as more than a tale of doomed romance. The myth insists on order and principle: love alone is not enough. Izanami’s premature words lead to disorder and a malformed child; only when the gods’ counsel is sought and order restored can new life flourish. Even in separation, Izanami’s love is expressed in her final cry—“My beloved husband!”—while Izanagi responds by vowing to continue building homes and nurturing life. The myth thus moves from tragedy toward renewal, embedding lessons about responsibility, perseverance, and the duty of the living.
Here lies the essential contrast:
• Greek myth portrays passion without resolution, ending in destruction.
• Japanese myth transforms grief into responsibility, providing a moral architecture for society.
This difference reflects two ways of approaching the past. One is what we might call the “forensic” view of history—investigating events, tracing causes, much like detectives piecing together a crime. The other is the “pedagogical” view—learning from stories, drawing moral lessons to guide present and future life. Japanese tradition has long emphasized the latter. Myth and history are not simply records of what happened; they are frameworks for values, designed to teach how we should live.
In this sense, the tale of Izanagi and Izanami is not just an ancient myth. It is a living textbook in which love is tempered by order, tragedy becomes the ground for renewal, and the past offers wisdom for the future.
6. Conclusion: From Myth to Modern Values
Japan is often described as the world’s oldest continuous nation, with a history stretching back more than 2,700 years. This remarkable longevity cannot be explained by military power or economic resources alone. At its core lies a set of values preserved and transmitted through myth, ritual, and tradition.
The story of Izanagi and Izanami highlights three of these enduring principles:
• Monozukuri (ものづくり) — the sacred responsibility to “create and solidify” with care and excellence, whether in tools, homes, or social institutions.
• Love with Order — affection must be tempered by harmony, respect, and responsibility, or it descends into chaos.
• Covenants with the Dead — promises made to those who came before us, from ancestors to fallen heroes, must be honored as a moral foundation for the living.
Seen in this light, Izanami’s Love is far more than a romantic tale. It is a moral compass, reminding us that grief can be transformed into responsibility, that creation is a divine trust, and that true love requires discipline as well as passion.
In a modern world driven by speed and consumption, these ancient teachings remain surprisingly relevant. They invite us to slow down, to respect what we have been given, and to live with a sense of duty not only to ourselves, but also to our communities, our ancestors, and our descendants.
Myths endure because they carry truths too deep to be reduced to data. The love between Izanagi and Izanami, tested by tragedy and bound by responsibility, still whispers across millennia: that order, reverence, and fidelity are what sustain a people through the storms of history.
【Author’s Note】
As I wrote this essay, I realized that it is not simply an interpretation of myth. It is also a meditation on what it means to be human and how societies are sustained. What struck me most was how Japanese myth portrays love not merely as passion, but as something bound by order and responsibility. In contrast with Western myths that often end in tragedy, the story of Izanagi and Izanami offers a moral blueprint for building and preserving community.
I also found that connecting Monozukuri (ものづくり) to the divine mandate of “create and make firm” reveals why craftsmanship in Japan has always been more than technical skill—it is a spiritual practice, rooted in reverence for what has been given.
In the end, this essay is not just about ancient stories. It is, in a way, a personal statement of how I wish to live: with love tempered by order, with respect for promises to the dead, and with a humble gratitude for the gifts of creation.
