charismatic forest spirits

this was the podcast that came up in my long queue of podcast episodes (37 hours' worth, my podcast app tells me) today: "Return of the Yokai" from 99% Invisible. very worth listening to.

near the end of their discussion about the yokai-- which they note is "a pretty broad term that includes everything from shape-shifting demons to cuddly animal-like creatures as well as spirited inanimate objects and ghosts"-- the podcast hosts recognize echoes of the Yokai in the work of several famous Japanese artists, among them Hayao Miyazaki of Studio Ghibli. 

I nodded and smiled at hearing his name, remembering the kodama forest spirits from Princess Mononoke. they're adorable and enigmatic, as well as generally helpful.

aren't they cute?

we had actually just recently rewatched the movie with my niece and nephews. beforehand, we asked my sister's family to think about who the "good guys" and "bad guys" are in this movie and have an answer to share at the end. since we're all a pretty taciturn bunch, the post-movie discussion wasn't so very lively, but I am sure it gave them all something to think about. perhaps it will inspire some of the stories they'll invent and share with the world.

Princess Mononoke is just as poignant and lovely this year as it ever was, and being more familiar with the story this time I found myself attending more closely to the art, the lines and textures and colors and movement of it all. not long ago friend Chris pointed me towards this essay on the impact of art style on the story and affective messages of Princess Mononoke (it does spoil the plot, in case that matters to you). having read that, I was primed to notice variations in clarity and level of detail. messier art for the things we're afraid of. sharper portraits of everything calm and safe.

the yokai story from 99% Invisible transitions from pointing out Miyazaki and Pokemon as vessels for the continuation of yokai into making a broader philosophical point about our unquenchable thirst for wonder and mystery, even (and perhaps especially) in the face of deeply frightening unknowns. one of the guests on this episode explains that "putting a form and a face and sometimes a name and various attributes to something gives you a sense of control over it." in the absence of real control, a story can at least give us a feeling of it. a layer of calm to cover the fear.

science may have replaced spirits and legends in how we explain and understand nature, but it hasn't explained away everything. there's room for a few enigmatic stories here and there to help us personify nature and appreciate its variably fearful or wondrous mysteries and rhythms.