Today is March 21 – a special day known in Japan as Shunbun no Hi (春分の日), the Spring Equinox. Officially, it is a national holiday, a day off from work and school, but its significance goes far beyond a calendar entry. Across the country, parks and temples fill with people – some visit the graves of their ancestors, others spread blue plastic tarps beneath cherry trees that, in some of the warmer prefectures, have just begun to bloom. Life unfolds on those tarps: families eat hanami dango and botamochi, children run about joyfully and noisily, and the elderly soak in the rebirth of nature among fragrant blossoms. In the air, one can feel the shift – not only of the seasons, but of an inner mood as well.
Shunbun no Hi marks a moment of perfect balance – when day and night are of equal length. It is an astronomical phenomenon, but also a symbol of harmony. As early as the Heian period, this day was associated with the Buddhist observance of Higan, a time when people prayed for the souls of the departed and sought spiritual purification, while farmers prepared for the first sowing of spring. Sparrows – in line with the traditional Japanese calendar of microseasons (Shichijūni-kō) – are just now beginning to build their nests. The world is awakening, but still quietly, gently, as if to remind us: this is the moment to pause.
On our website, we often write about mindfulness – about how easy it is to miss one’s own life while being consumed by things that, a year or ten years from now, or perhaps even a week, will no longer matter. Shunbun no Hi, like many holidays in Japanese culture, does not shout – it rather whispers: “Stop. Take a deep breath. Look.” It is a reminder that life is happening here and now – in the early spring chill, with the timid warmth of morning sunlight on your cheek, in the chirping of sparrows, in the revitalized energy of the earth. As long as we are here, we should notice it – before it passes. And it will pass faster than we’d like.
The dawn of early spring is full of subtle yet vivid contrasts. The air is still sharp, almost wintry, as if winter is reluctantly giving way to the arriving spring. A soft mist hangs over roads and gardens, and the rooftops glisten with dewdrops, frozen at sunrise but melting in the pale light of morning. In the silence of dawn, one can hear only the distant cries of sparrows – the very same ones that, in keeping with ancient rhythms of nature, are just beginning to build their nests.
It is in just such a moment that Shunbun (春分) begins – the day of the Spring Equinox, one of the most important phenomena in the Japanese seasonal calendar. Day and night become equal in length, and nature seems, for a fleeting instant, to breathe with calm and balance before it begins its springtime bloom.
Japanese culture treasures the symbolism hidden in written characters, and the kanji used to write "Shunbun" holds a simple yet profound meaning:
Literal meaning: “division of spring,” the moment when day and night share time equally – a moment of perfect balance.
Japan's method of marking time was not always based on the Western solar calendar. Before the introduction of the Gregorian calendar during the Meiji period (1868–1912), Japan used a lunisolar calendar derived from China, which divided the year into 24 seasonal periods known as sekki (二十四節気, Nijūshi-sekki), each corresponding to changes in nature.
Shunbun was one of these seasonal periods – it marked the time when farmers began preparing for spring planting, and when courtly elites indulged in ceremonial flower viewing (hanami, more on that here: Hanami – April Day of Reflection on What You Have Now, Which Will Pass and Not Return). To this day, the sekki system is still used in agriculture and traditional arts like chado (茶道, tea ceremony) or haiku, where each season has its own designated kigo (季語, seasonal keywords).
Additionally, the year was further divided into 72 microseasons (七十二候, Shichijūni-kō), each lasting about five days and connected to subtle changes in the natural world. During the Shunbun period, the following occur:
⁕ 雀始巣 (Suzume hajimete sukū) – “sparrows begin to build their nests” – a symbolic moment marking the start of the nesting season.
⁕ 桜始開 (Sakura hajimete saku) – “the first cherry blossoms open” – a microseason that, in practice, signals the beginning of daily updates on sakura bloom forecasts across each Japanese province.
In the past, Shunbun was associated with Shunki Kōreisai (春季皇霊祭), a Shintō ritual during which homage was paid to the spirits of the imperial ancestors. It was one of many seasonal festivals emphasizing the rhythm of nature and its impact on human life.
However, after World War II, as part of postwar reforms aimed at separating religion from the state, the holiday was redefined as Shunbun no Hi (春分の日) – the official Spring Equinox Day – and recognized as a public holiday in 1948. Though it formally lost its religious character, it has continued to be a time when Japanese people visit ancestral graves and pay tribute to nature.
Shunbun is closely tied to the Buddhist period of Higan (彼岸), which lasts for seven days – three before and three after the equinox. In Buddhism, “higan” refers to “the other shore” – a metaphorical passage from the world of the living to the state of enlightenment. It was believed that during the equinox, the boundary between the world of the living and the world of spirits becomes thinner, making it an ideal time to honor the deceased (more on customs related to ancestor veneration can be found here: Minimalism and Restraint: Japanese Cemeteries and Their Customs).
That is why, during Higan, Japanese people visit ancestral graves, offering flowers and food – including traditional sweets such as:
⁕ Botamochi (牡丹餅) – the spring version of sweet rice balls, named after the peony flower (botan).
⁕ Ohagi (おはぎ) – the autumn version of the same treat, named after the bush clover (hagi).
Before the war, the spring equinox was a day devoted to honoring the imperial ancestors. Although this ritual no longer officially exists, the imperial family still holds private ceremonies for this purpose.
This is one of the most symbolic phenomena in Japan. The official monitoring of sakura blooming is based on a single tree at Yasukuni Shrine in Tokyo, which serves as the Metropolitan Index Tree – from it, the start of the hanami season is declared.
This microseason reminds us that nature is awakening to life. Sparrows in Japanese culture symbolize loyalty and familial care, and their presence in old folktales – such as “The Tongue-Cut Sparrow” (Shita-kiri Suzume, 舌切り雀) – emphasizes their significance.
Before Japan became a land of emperors, samurai, and poems about falling cherry petals, it was first and foremost a country of farmers whose lives were governed by the rhythm of nature. No season was awaited as eagerly as spring – the end of cold, dark months and the beginning of labor in the fields.
In the times before the solar calendar was introduced, the Japanese used the Chinese lunisolar calendar, in which Shunbun marked the transition between the harsh end of winter and the promise of spring abundance. It was believed that during this time, the gods of agriculture opened their eyes from winter slumber, and the spirits of the ancestors watched over the first sowing of the season.
Emperors – before they became involved in intricate court politics and bloody wars – were above all the highest priests, whose role was to ensure a fruitful harvest. During the spring equinox, the court would perform rituals to appease the deities of the land and rice, asking for a bountiful season. Later, this custom would evolve into the Buddhist practice of Higan, though its roots lie in ancient agrarian rites.
Many farmers also believed that Shunbun was a day when the world of the living and the world of spirits briefly touched, which explained the sudden weather changes often observed during this period. Some believed that spring thunderstorms were not atmospheric whims, but the ancestors' spirits checking whether their descendants were tending the family fields properly.
By the end of the 8th century, Japan was under strong Buddhist influence, and its philosophy of harmony and transitions between worlds naturally aligned with the meaning of the equinox. It was during this era that the tradition of Higan (彼岸) was born – visiting the graves of ancestors and paying tribute to them during the equinox days.
The spring equinox was also a perfect opportunity for courtly celebrations. The Heian court, known for its refinement, turned nearly every occasion into a chance to celebrate the beauty of nature and art. In the imperial palace, poems about the awakening of spring were recited, and court ladies – such as Sei Shōnagon, author of The Pillow Book (Makura no Sōshi) – described "spring dawns," when "the air takes on a pink hue, and the clouds drift lazily above the hills" (you can read more about this remarkable poet in the book “Strong Women of Japan” here: Silne kobiety Japonii).
During this period, hanami (flower viewing) also began to grow in popularity – initially focused on plum blossoms (ume), and later, in keeping with the poetic sensitivity of the era, shifting toward cherry blossoms (sakura). The first official imperial hanami took place in the year 812, under Emperor Saga.
It is also worth remembering that the Heian court had its own specific rituals – Shunbun was one of the days when the emperor made offerings to the spirits of imperial ancestors, just as his subjects did.
Over the following centuries, Shunbun remained both an agrarian and spiritual holiday. However, during the Edo period (1603–1868), when the country was under the strict control of the Tokugawa shogunate, it began to take on a more secular character.
Visiting temples and ancestral graves became a common custom. Families would make pilgrimages to nearby temples, bringing offerings for the deceased – often in the form of botamochi, sweet rice balls filled with red bean paste. It was also a time for symbolic purification – homes were cleaned, and fields prepared for the new agricultural season.
The Tokugawa, known for their obsession with maintaining total social order, treated Higan as a tool of control – encouraging visits to family graves, emphasizing loyalty to family and ancestors as a core moral value.
However, true change came during the Meiji period (1868–1912), when Japan began to modernize along Western lines. The equinox, once tied to agrarian and religious rites, became an official date in the national calendar, though it still retained strong spiritual associations.
After World War II, Japan underwent radical changes, and one of the key principles of the new postwar order was the separation of religion and state. In 1948, the Japanese government transformed Shunbun into a national holiday under the name "Shunbun no Hi" (春分の日), officially giving it a secular character.
The official definition stated that it was “a day to celebrate nature and show respect for all living things.” This phrasing was neutral enough to align with the postwar constitution, although in practice, Japanese people continued to observe Shunbun in traditional ways:
Interestingly, although the holiday lost its official religious character, the imperial family still holds private ceremonies in honor of their ancestors, in accordance with the former tradition of Shunki Kōreisai.
Today, Shunbun no Hi is for many Japanese people primarily a day of rest, reflection on the cycle of nature, and an opportunity to spend time amidst the reawakening world. And while it is officially a secular national holiday, in the hearts of many, it remains a time of spiritual renewal.
The spring equinox in Japan, though officially a secular state holiday, still bears traces of ancient traditions, both Buddhist and Shintō. For some, it is a time of quiet reflection and visits to ancestral graves; for others – a chance to celebrate the awakening of nature beneath blooming cherry trees. Across the country, from Hokkaidō to Okinawa, Shunbun is a day full of rituals, seasonal flavors, and family gatherings, when Japan breathes with the new energy of spring.
Shunbun is an important time in Japanese spirituality. It is closely tied to Higan (彼岸) – the Buddhist period of prayer for the souls of the departed, lasting for seven days: three days before the equinox, the day of the equinox, and three days after. It is a time when, according to tradition, the boundary between the world of the living and the spiritual world becomes as thin as the morning mist above a rice field.
Families across Japan visit the graves of their ancestors to honor them. Cemeteries – often located on hillsides or near temples – fill with people cleaning stone grave markers. Removing moss and dust symbolizes not only care for the memory of the deceased but also spiritual purification of those who remain. Flowers (especially chrysanthemums), incense, and food offerings, including botamochi – sweet rice balls covered in red bean paste – are placed on the graves, believed to nourish the spirits of the ancestors.
In homes, prayers are held before the family altars (butsudan), where candles are lit and offerings placed – symbolic portions of rice and fruit. In some households, a Buddhist monk is invited to chant sutras on behalf of the deceased. Though Japan is a modern, largely secular nation, many people – even if they do not practice a religion regularly – consider the visit to ancestral graves an essential ritual connecting generations.
Shunbun coincides with the end of the academic and fiscal year – the Japanese school and business year begins in April, making the spring equinox a time of transitions and preparations for a fresh start.
Like every Japanese holiday, Shunbun has its distinctive flavors:
Though Shunbun is officially secular, there is still a sense of spiritual elevation that permeates the season. In both Buddhist and Shintō temples, ceremonies of gratitude take place, often focused on honoring nature.
In Shintō shrines, priests perform rituals to bless the harmonious transition between seasons, giving thanks to the kami for the arrival of spring and praying for favorable weather. In Buddhist temples, monks conduct special Higan services, reflecting on the impermanence of life and the importance of remembering one’s ancestors.
Shunbun, the moment of perfect balance between day and night, is a metaphor for harmony and cyclicality—concepts that lie at the heart of the Japanese worldview. This holiday reminds us of the subtle principles that govern existence: that everything undergoes transformation, but in a rhythm that is repetitive and predictable, like the seasons, the rippling of water, or the dance between life and death.
One of the foundational concepts of East Asian philosophy is cyclicality—the belief that everything in nature repeats in a set rhythm. Shunbun fits into this order as the moment when the world reaches perfect balance, just before it begins to lean once more—this time toward the long days of summer.
Here, nature is not merely the backdrop of life, but its teacher. The spring equinox shows that harmony is fleeting, and that life, at its core, is a constant transition from one state to another. Absolute stillness does not exist, but balance can be found in the very act of change.
In many literary references, Shunbun is linked to the Chinese concept of Yin and Yang—the idea of two opposing forces: darkness and light, winter and summer, death and life. Shunbun is the zero point between them, the place where neither force dominates. In this sense, it can be seen as one of the most important moments of the year—not because it lasts long, but because it reveals the perfect harmony of opposites.
The Japanese have long adopted Chinese philosophical ideas, adapting them to their own vision of the world. That is why, during Shunbun, they see not only balance, but also its impermanence—a realization that leads to a deeper philosophical understanding of the transience of all things.
Shunbun, like its autumn counterpart, is linked to the Buddhist concept of the "Other Shore" (彼岸, Higan). In Buddhist philosophy, the "Other Shore" represents enlightenment—the crossing over from the world of illusion and attachments to a state of complete awareness. Some believe that this is the best time for reflection, spiritual cleansing, and inner transformation.
Many people use this day as an opportunity to symbolically organize their lives—both literally and metaphorically. In Japan, spring is a time for deep cleaning not only of homes but also of the mind. It is a season for making new decisions, wrapping up old matters, and preparing for the coming months.
Meditation, prayers for ancestors, and cleansing of living spaces all contribute to making Shunbun something more than just another public holiday. It is a reminder of the need to pause and look inward before spring sweeps everyone up in the rush of everyday life.
Japanese culture has always been grounded in a deep observation of seasonal changes and their influence on human life. Shunbun fits perfectly into the philosophy of mono no aware (物の哀れ)—the subtle, melancholic beauty of things that pass.
In Japanese aesthetics, beauty does not lie in permanence, but in ephemerality. Just as cherry blossoms bloom for only a brief moment, so too does the equinox last but a day—but that is precisely what makes it so meaningful. It is one of those moments meant to be lived consciously, rather than allowed to slip by unnoticed.
In practice, the reflective nature of this holiday influences the rhythm of life in Japan. It is now that new seasons begin—academic, business, and agricultural. Unlike in the West, where the new year begins in winter, in Japan, spring is the true beginning of everything.
Japanese tea ceremonies, garden design, and even the structure of haiku are all built around this same rhythm. In the ancient gardens of the Heian court, special viewing paths were created so one could witness the first rays of the equinox and observe the subtle changes in nature. Today, that same attentiveness to fleeting seasons is visible everywhere—from poetry to cuisine—whether in hanami dango or sakuramochi, which are eaten only for a few weeks each year.
Shunbun may seem like a holiday rooted in Japanese tradition, but in truth, it tells a universal story—a story of light and darkness, endings and beginnings, of balance that we all, deep down, long for. It’s worth knowing that similar ideas are celebrated across the world—from Persia to Scandinavia—and everywhere they carry the same message: the world is reborn once again.
In Iran, around the same time as Shunbun, the festival of Nowruz takes place—the Persian New Year, marking the symbolic beginning of spring and a new cycle of life. Iranian tables are decorated with "haft sin"—seven elements beginning with the letter “s,” symbolizing health, prosperity, and renewal. The holiday includes purification rituals, bonfires, the sound of tamburs, and—just as in Japan—plenty of food rich with herbs and spices.
In Western Europe, pagan cultures celebrated Ostara—a spring equinox festival from which the Christian Easter Bunny would later emerge. Fertility, light, and new beginnings were honored, and—as one might guess—the egg, as a symbol of life, played a major role. Wherever people looked to the sky and observed nature, the equinox was important—even if called by a different name. (If you’d like to read about the symbolism of the rabbit in Japan—so different from that in Europe—click here: The Hare – The Trickster Pounding Mochi on the Moon: How Does the Hare's Symbolism in Japan Differ from the Easter Tradition?).
And while the Shunbun holiday may seem eternal, even it is not immune to the changing world. In Japan, the climate is warming—scientists have recorded increasingly earlier cherry blossom blooms, sometimes by a week or two. The sakura tree at Yasukuni Shrine in Tokyo, which officially marks the start of hanami season, has at times blossomed before the equinox. Which means that Shunbun—once the traditional gateway to cherry blossom season—now sometimes merely catches up to it.
Shunbun is not just a moment of equinox—it is a symbolic reminder that life moves to the rhythm of nature, and that humans—regardless of era, religion, or technology—will always remain a part of it. Perhaps that is why this holiday so beautifully blends the everyday with the sacred, poetry with rice balls, birdwatching with contemplation of impermanence.
And though spring is celebrated differently in various parts of the world, it always comes down to the same truth: to pause for a moment, look up at the sky, smile at a passing sparrow, and say to yourself:
“I begin again.”
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未開 ソビエライ
An enthusiast of Asian culture with a deep appreciation for the diverse philosophies of the world. By education, a psychologist and philologist specializing in Korean studies. At heart, a programmer (primarily for Android) and a passionate technology enthusiast, as well as a practitioner of Zen and mono no aware. In moments of tranquility, adheres to a disciplined lifestyle, firmly believing that perseverance, continuous personal growth, and dedication to one's passions are the wisest paths in life. Author of the book "Strong Women of Japan" (>>see more)
"The most powerful force in the universe is compound interest." - Albert Einstein (probably)
未開 ソビエライ
An enthusiast of Asian culture with a deep appreciation for the diverse philosophies of the world. By education, a psychologist and philologist specializing in Korean studies. At heart, a programmer (primarily for Android) and a passionate technology enthusiast, as well as a practitioner of Zen and mono no aware. In moments of tranquility, adheres to a disciplined lifestyle, firmly believing that perseverance, continuous personal growth, and dedication to one's passions are the wisest paths in life. Author of the book "Strong Women of Japan" (>>see more)
"The most powerful force in the universe is compound interest." - Albert Einstein (probably)
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