The River Frog and the Spirit of Manyo
Voices of joy echoed across the clear stream.
The Kajika frog (River Deer Frog) is no ordinary amphibian. This small creature, which lives in the mountains of Japan, has been loved since ancient times as a "messenger of sound" that evokes poetic sentiments in people's hearts and announces the change of seasons.
Their calls don't just reach the ears, they penetrate the heart. If you listen carefully at dusk by a clear mountain stream, you will hear a flute-like "fi-fi-fi..." sound carried by the wind. Even though we cannot see them, just the presence of that voice tells us that there is life, seasons, and memories there.
[The River Frog and the Spirit of Manyo]
The sound of the Japanese frog resonated deeply with poets of ancient times. The Manyoshu collection contains several poems that describe their cries. For example, this poem by Otomo no Yakamochi:
When I hear the voices of the river frogs singing in the spring fields, I remember your gate.
The song is imbued with a sad yet beautiful emotion, as the cries of the river deer echoing through the spring fields recall the distant home of a loved one. Here, the "river deer cries" are not simply natural sounds, but are considered a "soundscape of the heart" that evokes memories and emotions.
In this way, since ancient times, the Japanese frog has played an important role in literature and poetry as a medium connecting the hearts of people with nature. Their voices sometimes speak of longing, sometimes of nostalgia, and sometimes of the beauty of impermanence.
[A symbol of clear streams]
The Japanese bush frog can only live in clear mountain streams. Because they are extremely sensitive to deterioration in water quality and changes in the environment, places where their cries can be heard are proof that nature is still alive and well. For this reason, they have been revered since ancient times as the "guardian deities of clear streams," and their existence is spoken of in shrine grounds and places of mountain worship.
During the breeding season from spring to early summer, male Japanese bush frogs claim their territory and call out to females. Their "fi-fi-fi..." calls are as clear as a bamboo flute, leaving a mystical echo in the valley at dusk.
This cry is also used as a seasonal word in haiku and tanka, and "river deer cry" has become established as a sign of the arrival of summer. This is another example of the uniquely Japanese sensibility of sensing the change of seasons through sound.
[The Japanese frog in culture and memory]
During the Edo period, a musical instrument called the "Kajika Fue" appeared, which imitated the sound of the Japanese bush frog. This was a small flute made from bamboo and ceramic, and was played at tea ceremonies and in gardens, serving as a tool for enjoying elegance. The sensitivity to recreate the sounds of nature with human hands and find beauty in them can be said to be the very essence of Japanese culture.
Additionally, river frogs, depicted in ukiyo-e and waka poetry, often appear as symbols of transience and mystery. A creature with a short lifespan and a beautiful voice, this is the very essence of the Japanese aesthetic. The sensibility to find value in things that cannot be seen and to find beauty in things that disappear has been superimposed on the existence of the Japanese frog.
Furthermore, in some regions, there is a custom of worshiping the cries of river frogs as the "voice of the gods," and there are examples of imitating their sounds being incorporated into festivals and kagura dances. The Japanese frog sits quietly in the place where nature and faith, sound and memory intersect.
[An entity that resonates with WABISUKE's philosophy]
The stories that WABISUKE weaves are not just product introductions, but a "philosophy of gift-giving" that weaves together memories and emotions. It is an attitude that values not only what can be seen, but also the intangible feelings, sounds, and presences.
The nostalgia and seasonal memories evoked by the sound of the Japanese frog resonate with this philosophy. For example, a poem accompanying a gift may suddenly remind you of a certain evening in the valley. Or the image of a river frog on a gift wrapping paper may evoke a voice you once heard.
Giving means handing over memories.
To resonate means to reach the depths of your heart.
WABISUKE aims to create an experience that includes such "sound memories." For readers, the article on the theme of the sound of the Japanese bush frog will not just be a piece of reading material, but a "gift" that gently touches the depths of their hearts.
[In Closing: A Voice in the Silence]
In modern urban life, we have fewer opportunities to hear the sound of the Japanese bush frog, but its sound certainly remains somewhere in our memories, or perhaps deep within our culture.
It's a voice that resonates in the silence.
It was a voice that brought back memories of a season that had been almost forgotten.
It's a voice that gently reaches your heart like a gift.
It may be another beautiful attempt to incorporate such "sound memories" into the stories that WABISUKE weaves.