Today is the Autumnal Equinox, the day when the sun rises due east and sets due west, and the length of day and night stand in perfect balance. In Japan, this is believed to be the moment when this shore (此岸, shigan) and the other shore (彼岸, higan)—the spiritual world—draw closest.
For this reason, the equinox is more than an astronomical event; it is a deeply cultural one. In Japan, it is observed as a national holiday. Families visit ancestral graves, honor loved ones, and give thanks for nature’s blessings. The week surrounding the equinox is called Higan (彼岸), a Buddhist term symbolizing the passage from the world of suffering to the world of enlightenment.
Red spider lilies, higanbana (彼岸花) also called manjushage (曼珠沙華)
I remember visiting Kiyomizu-dera in Kyoto many years ago during this season, when the temple grounds glowed with brilliant red clusters of higanbana (彼岸花, red spider lilies). These flowers, also called manjushage (曼珠沙華), come from a Sanskrit word meaning “red flower.” In Buddhist scriptures, they are described as heavenly blossoms—an auspicious sign appearing before something blessed occurs. Their fleeting beauty mirrored the very balance and impermanence that the equinox embodies.
Higanbana (彼岸花) at Kiyomizu-dera—flowers that bloom around the equinox, symbols of balance and impermanence.
Around this time, we also eat ohagi (おはぎ)—sweet rice cakes covered in red adzuki beans. My grandmother always made them for our family. I ate them without much thought, but later learned their deeper meaning: they are offerings of gratitude and remembrance for ancestors, protection against misfortune, and prayers for health and good harvests. The red color of the beans has long been believed to ward off evil. Perhaps people also sensed, intuitively, how nourishing adzuki beans are. I don’t have any particular religious beliefs, but I am reminded that these customs endure as meaningful traditions passed down through generations.
Ohagi (おはぎ), a traditional sweet made of rice and adzuki beans, enjoyed during the equinox to honor ancestors and celebrate the season.
Someone once said that those who decide how they want to live are the ones who live happily. As autumn deepens, it feels like the perfect season to quietly look inward and reflect. Thinking back to the spider lilies at Kiyomizu-dera, I want to carry that same sense of anticipation—that something good is about to bloom. After all, if we are going to live, let’s live joyfully.