N THE ISLAND of Yakushima in southern Japan lies a forest whose wellspring of awe arises from silence. The Shiratani Unsuikyo ravine is, or endemic Japanese cedars. Bright blooms and quick movements have no place in this primeval space—green and evergreen is all the eye can discern. Even the ear may strain for signals, for sound does not come often or travel far under the dense canopy. As absence becomes presence, these woods cultivate their own ambience, seeming to convey a core tenet of the Japanese concept of Shinto, which holds that the world is suffused with , sacred essences that embody things both living and inorganic. Rock and root. Moss and leaf. Earth and wind-whispered river water. As one of Japan’s oldest forests, the Shiratani Unsuikyo ravine serves as a grand cathedral and sanctuary for the more-than-human world. This space also inspired , filmmaker Hayao Miyazaki’s environmental epic, in which humanity wages war against the Great Forest and the divine gods of nature.
