[Sect. Vi.—Birth Of The Various Deities

‘[Sect. Vi.—Birth Of The Various Deities’ is an educational moral story perfect for bedtime reading with children ages 6-12.

In the beginning, there was nothing but chaos.

Imagine a vast ocean of swirling mist and shadow, where nothing had shape and nothing had name. This was Takama-ga-hara, the High Plain of Heaven, before it was truly heaven. It was like a great egg that had not yet cracked open, or perhaps like the moment before dawn when you cannot tell where the sky ends and the earth begins.

The ancient Japanese called this primordial state “chaos,” but it was not disorder as we might think of it. Rather, it was everything mixed together—light and dark, heavy and light, warm and cool—all waiting to become something more.

Then, from within this endless mixing, something began to stir.

Like bubbles rising to the surface of a pond, or shoots of bamboo pushing up through spring soil, the first forces of creation began to separate. The light parts rose upward, becoming the heavens. The heavy parts sank downward, forming what would become the earth—though it was still soft, floating on the cosmic waters like a jellyfish drifting in the sea.

And from this separation, the very first Kami were born.

The first Kami to emerge were different from any that would come after. They had no bodies that could be seen, no forms that could be touched. They were pure spirits, forces of creation itself, and they appeared one at a time, each representing a fundamental aspect of existence.

First came Ame-no-Minaka-Nushi, the “Lord of the August Center of Heaven.” This Kami represented the very center of all things—the point from which everything else would expand, like the single stone dropped into a still pond whose ripples spread outward forever.

Next came Takami-Musubi, the “High Sacred Creative Force,” who represented the masculine power of creation—the spark that ignites, the seed that grows, the thought that becomes action.

Then came Kami-Musubi, the “Divine Sacred Creative Force,” representing the feminine power of creation—the soil that nurtures the seed, the warmth that brings forth life, the love that shapes all living things.

These three Kami—called the Three Creating Deities—appeared and then immediately hid themselves. Their work was not to walk among the world or to be worshipped directly, but simply to exist as the fundamental forces that made everything else possible. They were like the roots of a great tree, invisible beneath the soil but essential to everything that grows above.

After them came two more pairs of hidden Kami, beings of pure spirit who helped establish the structure of the cosmos. They too retreated into invisibility, their purpose fulfilled by their very existence.

Then, at last, came the Kami who would change everything.

The seventh generation of heavenly Kami were different from all who came before. They had names that you could speak, forms that you could imagine, and stories that would echo through all the ages of Japan.

Their names were Izanagi and Izanami—the Male-Who-Invites and the Female-Who-Invites.

Izanagi stood tall and strong, with the bearing of a prince of the heavens. His robes flowed like silver mist, and his eyes held the brightness of stars. He was curious about everything, always asking questions, always seeking to understand.

Izanami was graceful and gentle, with hair like flowing water and a smile that brought warmth to the cold heavens. She was nurturing and patient, always thinking of how things could grow and flourish.

One day, the older Kami gathered and gave Izanagi and Izanami a great task.

“Look below,” the elder Kami said. “The earth is still unformed, still drifting like oil upon water. It needs to be solidified, shaped, made into a place where life can flourish. We entrust this task to you.”

With these words, the elder Kami gave the divine couple a sacred treasure: the Ama-no-Nuboko, the Jeweled Spear of Heaven. This was no ordinary weapon. Its shaft was made of celestial crystal, and its blade gleamed with all the colors of the rainbow. It was a tool of creation, not destruction.

Izanagi and Izanami took the spear and walked to the Floating Bridge of Heaven—a shimmering rainbow arc that stretched across the divide between the high heavens and the formless world below.

Standing on the Floating Bridge, Izanagi and Izanami looked down at the chaos below. There was no land to be seen, only the endless cosmic ocean, swirling with mist and possibility.

“How shall we begin?” Izanami asked.

Izanagi considered for a moment, then lowered the Jeweled Spear into the waters below. The spear was so long that it could reach from heaven to the very depths of the primordial ocean.

Together, the divine couple stirred the waters.

Round and round they churned the cosmic sea, as one might stir thick miso soup in a great pot. The waters gurgled and splashed with a sound like “koworo-koworo”—a sound the ancient Japanese believed was the first sound ever made in the world.

When at last Izanagi lifted the spear from the waters, drops of brine fell from its tip. These drops, infused with the creative power of the gods, did not splash back into the ocean. Instead, they piled upon themselves, hardening and growing, until they formed a small island.

This was Onogoro-shima, the Self-Forming Island—the first solid land in all of creation.

Izanagi and Izanami descended from heaven and stood upon this newborn island. The ground was still warm from its creation, and the air smelled of salt and new beginnings.

“Here,” Izanagi said, “we shall build our home and begin our great work.”

On the island of Onogoro, Izanagi and Izanami built a magnificent palace. At its center stood a great pillar called the Ama-no-Mihashira, the August Pillar of Heaven. This pillar was more than just a support for their roof—it was a cosmic axis, a connection between heaven and earth, around which all creation would revolve.

It was time for Izanagi and Izanami to be properly married, for only through their union could the islands of Japan and all their Kami be born.

“I shall walk around the pillar one way,” Izanagi said, “and you shall walk around it the other. When we meet, we shall speak words of love, and our union will begin the great creation.”

Izanami agreed, and they began their sacred walk. When they met on the opposite side of the pillar, Izanami, filled with joy at seeing her partner, spoke first.

“Oh, what a handsome man!” she exclaimed.

Izanagi smiled but felt uncertain. “Perhaps,” he said gently, “we should try again. The woman speaking first may not be proper.”

So they walked around the pillar once more, and this time Izanagi spoke first.

“Oh, what a beautiful woman!” he declared.

And Izanami replied, “Oh, what a handsome man!”

This time, the ritual was complete. Their union was blessed by the proper order of things, and from their love, the creation of Japan could truly begin.

From the love of Izanagi and Izanami came children unlike any others—they were islands.

First was born Awaji-shima, a small, slender island that rose from the sea like a new leaf unfurling. Then came Shikoku, the Island of Four Provinces, strong and mountainous. Next was born the great island of Oki, with its rugged cliffs and wild shores.

One by one, the islands of Japan emerged from the creative power of the divine couple. Kyushu rose with its volcanic fire still smoldering within. Iki and Tsushima appeared as stepping stones between the mainland and the sacred isles. Sado emerged with its gold-laden mountains. And finally, the greatest of all was born: Honshu, the largest island, which the ancient texts call “the Great Land of Yamato.”

Together, these became the Oyashima, the Eight Great Islands of Japan.

But Izanagi and Izanami were not finished. Beyond the eight great islands, they gave birth to countless smaller islands—three thousand or more, according to some counts. Every rocky outcropping, every tree-covered isle, every hidden cove with its own beach was born from their creative love.

With the land now formed, Izanagi and Izanami turned their attention to filling it with life and spirit.

They gave birth to the Kami of the seas, who would govern the tides and protect the fishermen. They gave birth to the Kami of the rivers, who would bring fresh water from the mountains to the plains. They gave birth to the Kami of the winds, who would carry the seeds of plants and the songs of birds across the land.

The Kami of the mountains came next—mighty spirits who would dwell in the peaks and guard the forests. Then came the Kami of the plains, of the trees, of the grass and the flowers.

Each Kami was different, each was special. The Japanese believe that there are eight million Kami—which really means “too many to count”—and each one watches over some part of the natural world. Every waterfall has its Kami. Every ancient tree has its Kami. Even the stones by the roadside have their small, quiet spirits.

This is the heart of Shinto belief: that the entire world is alive with the sacred, that Kami dwell in all things, and that all of nature deserves our respect and reverence.

But the story of Izanagi and Izanami does not end happily. For there was one more Kami to be born—and this birth would bring tragedy to the divine couple.

The last child of Izanami was Kagutsuchi, the Kami of Fire.

Fire is both a blessing and a curse. It warms our homes and cooks our food, but it can also destroy everything it touches. When Kagutsuchi was born, his flames burned his mother terribly.

Izanami, who had given birth to the islands of Japan and thousands of Kami, fell ill from her burns. Though she was a goddess, even she could not survive the terrible power of fire’s birth.

She died, and descended to Yomi, the Land of the Dead.

Izanagi was devastated. In his grief and rage, he struck down Kagutsuchi with his sword, and from the blood of the slain fire god, more Kami were born—gods of thunder, of mountains, of metal and forge.

But Izanagi could not accept his wife’s death. He resolved to journey to Yomi himself and bring Izanami back to the world of the living.

What happened in that dark land is a story for another time—a tale of love and loss, of broken promises and terrible transformations. It would explain why death cannot be undone, and why Izanagi and Izanami were forever separated.

But that is not the end of creation. For from Izanagi’s purification after returning from Yomi, the three most important Kami of all would be born: Amaterasu the Sun Goddess, Tsukuyomi the Moon God, and Susanoo the Storm God.

And from Amaterasu would descend the imperial line of Japan, connecting all the way to the present day.

This ancient Shinto creation myth teaches us several important lessons.

*First, creation is a cooperative act. Izanagi and Izanami worked together as partners, each bringing their unique qualities to the task of creating the world. Neither could have done it alone. This reminds us that great achievements often require collaboration and mutual respect.

Second, everything in nature has spirit and deserves respect. The Kami are everywhere—in the mountains and seas, in trees and stones, in fire and water. This teaches us to treat the natural world with reverence, not as something to be used and discarded, but as something sacred and alive.

Third, there is no creation without sacrifice. Izanami gave her life to complete the creation of the Kami. This teaches us that bringing new things into the world—whether art, ideas, or new life—often requires us to give something of ourselves.

Finally, proper order and ritual matter. The story of walking around the pillar shows that how we do things is as important as what we do. Approaching important tasks with the right attitude and the right process leads to better outcomes.

This retelling faithfully preserves the authentic Shinto mythology from Japan’s oldest texts:

These two texts, completed in 712 CE and 720 CE respectively, are the foundational documents of Japanese mythology and early history. They were compiled from older oral traditions by imperial command, preserving stories that may have been told for thousands of years before they were written down.

The story preserves the Shinto understanding of creation: that the world emerged from primordial chaos through the separation of light and heavy elements, that the first Kami were abstract forces of creation, and that the physical world was formed through the divine actions of Izanagi and Izanami.

The concept of “yaoyorozu no kami” (eight million Kami) expresses the Shinto belief that the divine is everywhere in nature. This is not a literal number but means “countless” or “innumerable.”

The islands born of Izanagi and Izanami are the real islands of Japan. This story makes the land itself sacred—a divine creation, not just geography.

– Kami: Divine spirits or gods in Shinto belief; they inhabit all things in nature and represent the sacred forces of the universe

– Kojiki: “Record of Ancient Matters,” Japan’s oldest written text (712 CE), containing the creation myths and early legends of Japan

– Nihon Shoki: “Chronicles of Japan” (720 CE), the second oldest text of Japanese history and mythology

– Izanagi: “He-Who-Invites,” the male creator deity who, with Izanami, formed the islands of Japan

– Izanami: “She-Who-Invites,” the female creator deity and mother of the islands and many Kami

– Takama-ga-hara: The High Plain of Heaven, the realm of the heavenly Kami

– Ama-no-Nuboko: The Jeweled Spear of Heaven, used to stir the cosmic ocean and create the first island

– Onogoro-shima: The Self-Forming Island, the first land created by the falling drops from the heavenly spear

– Yomi: The Land of the Dead in Shinto mythology, where Izanami went after her death

1. Why do you think the ancient Japanese imagined that everything in nature had its own Kami or spirit? (Explores animism, respect for nature, indigenous beliefs)

2. Izanagi and Izanami had to work together to create the world. What does this tell us about partnership and cooperation? (Discusses teamwork, complementary roles)

3. The story shows that even gods face tragedy and loss. Why might ancient peoples have wanted their gods to experience human-like suffering? (Explores the relatability of deities, the universality of grief)

4. Fire brought both creation and destruction in this story. Can you think of other things in life that are both helpful and harmful? (Discusses duality, the complexity of natural forces)

5. How is this creation story similar to or different from other creation stories you know? (Comparative mythology, cultural diversity)

– Kojiki (Record of Ancient Matters), 712 CE – Japan’s oldest chronicle
– Nihon Shoki (Chronicles of Japan), 720 CE – Japan’s first official history
– Philippi, Donald L., translator, “Kojiki” – Standard English translation
– Herbert, Jean, “Shinto: At the Fountainhead of Japan” – Study of Shinto beliefs

This story preserves the creation narrative from Japan’s oldest texts, the Kojiki and Nihon Shoki, allowing children to encounter the origins of Shinto belief and understand why the Japanese have long held that all of nature is filled with divine spirit.*