I made my way to Myoko-kogen yesterday.
I’m sensing a pattern in these places I’m visiting in Japan. They are a little off-the-beaten path, right? Like, why would I go to Yamanouchi or Shibu Onsen or Myoko-kogen or Obuse or Shibata or Akita?
The number of lesser known places I will toil to get to are seemingly endless!
Some of you may be familiar with my (non-religious) obsession with a woman named Sister Agnes Katsuko Sasagawa. Sister Agnes is a Catholic nun who witnessed Our Virgin of Akita.
There is little verifiable data when it comes to specific details about Sister Agnes’ life, but based on what I’ve read, she fell ill in Myoko-kogen, and was ultimately brought out of a coma by Lourdes water, also in Myoko-kogen.
Myoko-kogen is also, not surprisingly, where a woman named Katsuko converted to Christianity and decided to become a nun, named Agnes.
Sister Agnes captured my imagination so many years ago because I was stunned by the idea of a Japanese woman living in a small town in the Japanese countryside seeing a vision of the Virgin Mary, receiving messages, and experiencing stigmata.
I’ve been writing poetry and stories based on her life off and on for several years now. It started as a monologue, then an epic poem, and now it’s a novella in tanka called “Silicon Agnes.”
I went to Myoko-kogen to get a feel for the place and to find inspiration to further develop Sister Agnes’ story.
To be certain, I didn’t go to verify facts or to find out more about her in any systematic way. Unlike most things in my life, I prefer to leave creative endeavors to chance.
When I arrived at Myoko-kogen Station, I decided to look for a hospital.
On the way there, I spotted something bright green in the drainage channel beside the road.
It was a caterpillar. It was barely moving. I picked it up and put it on a soft patch of grass, but I think I arrived too late.
I thought it was a strange thing to find, but as I wandered through town, butterflies were everywhere.
I arrived at the hospital.
Who knows if this is where Sister Agnes was cared for and eventually experienced a miracle, but I imagined her in one of the rooms on the second floor. Perhaps she could look out a window, perhaps not.
When I turned to face the landscape she might have seen, I saw what looked to be a regal structure on the hill across the way.
When I zoomed in with my camera, I saw a dilapidated, once regal structure.
I wandered further down the street, imagining where Sister Agnes might have lived in town before falling ill. And that’s when I saw it — could it be?
I ran toward it and saw a statue of the Virgin Mary on the facade of a boarded up church.
When I searched the map of Myoko-kogen earlier, no Catholic church showed up — but here one was.
I have no idea if it was here when Sister Agnes was here, but it doesn’t really matter, does it?
The windows on the second floor had pretty lace curtains. Just the kind that you could see a face peeking out from.
I can’t help it, but when you’re in Japan, you can’t help but be in obake-mode!
I went into the yard and saw a shrine with a cross anchored on top.
I went to get a closer look and found an empty bottle, probably once filled with holy water, like the Lourdes water that had brought Sister Agnes back to health.
Here’s a close-up of the inscription on the shrine:
Rejoice in our sufferings,
knowing that suffering produces endurance,
and endurance produces hope.
Amen!
A huge thank you to Nori Hara for the translation and to Kevin Simmonds for enlisting Nori’s skills!
At the back of the church was a pile of waterlogged and moldy books. As I peeked around, I saw the workings of a music box player. I picked it up and turned the crank. With a few taps to shake off disuse, it started to play.
Anyone recognize the song?
It seems like a gift, not something one would buy for oneself.
Someone must have liked the tune, though the spaces for photos in the frame are empty. Were they ever filled? Why was it thrown out to perish with the pile of books?
In Japan, the iris motif is a symbol of a showdown and protection from evil spirits. The sword may be playing off of the iris’ leaves, which are often referred to as sword-like in Japanese folklore.
I imagine I’ll use the song to summon this place, again and again, as I continue to write whatever comes of this.
Oh, and did I mention that Sister Agnes is still alive? I hear she is in ill-health, but living in Akita…