Japan’s stretch of September public holidays has come to an end, and the country is now in the autumn period known as お彼岸 (ohigan). In 2026, the autumn Ohigan runs from September 20 to 26. The Autumnal Equinox on September 23 falls at the center of this seven-day period, with three days before it and three days after it. Temples hold Ohigan services, and there are customs of visiting graves, placing flowers and offerings at household Buddhist altars, and honoring deceased family members and ancestors.
Ohigan has been familiar to me since childhood. I knew that it came twice a year, in spring and autumn, and that it was a time for honoring our ancestors and sometimes visiting family graves. That was about the extent of my understanding.
For a long time, however, I did not really know what the word itself meant, why Ohigan was centered on the spring and autumn equinoxes, or what Buddhist ideas lay behind it.
I do not follow any particular religion. Shrines, temples, Obon, and Ohigan simply became familiar to me through living in Japan.
It has now been a year since I started Spiritual Japan Journal. As I have spent more time researching Japanese culture, I have become increasingly aware of how much I did not know about the country where I have lived all my life. When I visit a shrine for an article, I find myself researching mythology and the history of the deities enshrined there. When I look into a temple, I end up learning about Buddhist schools and ideas. Even seasonal customs that once seemed completely familiar can lead back through centuries of history.
While researching Ohigan, I came across a phrase that caught my attention.
“During Ohigan, the world of the living and the world of the dead are said to come closest.”
In Japan, Ohigan is sometimes explained this way. Some temples, for example, describe the equinox period, when the sun sets due west, as a time when 彼岸 (higan), “the other shore,” and 此岸 (shigan), “this shore,” are closest to one another.
This does not mean that the physical distance between two worlds somehow becomes shorter. Nor does this phrase capture the whole Buddhist meaning of Ohigan.
When I began looking into where this idea came from, I found myself following a path through Higan and Shigan, Amida Buddha’s Western Pure Land, and a Buddhist practice that involves contemplating the setting sun.
What does Higan mean in Buddhism?
In Japan today, Higan is sometimes used or understood in a way that is close to “the afterlife,” the realm where the dead are thought to be.
As a Buddhist term, however, Higan refers to the state of awakening beyond delusion and worldly attachments.
The characters literally mean “the other shore.” The shore on which we stand is called Shigan, “this shore.”
In Buddhism, human beings are understood to live amid delusion, carrying desires and attachments and passing through the cycle of birth and death. That realm is Shigan. Higan is the awakened state beyond that delusion. Sōtō Zen describes Higan as the state of nirvana beyond the cycle of rebirth. In Jōdo-shū, the term can also refer to the Western Pure Land, in addition to its meaning as the realm of awakening.
Another important Buddhist term in understanding these two shores is 波羅蜜 (haramitsu), from the Sanskrit pāramitā.
In Buddhism, pāramitā refers to the perfection or completion of spiritual practice. In Chinese and Japanese Buddhism, it also came to be associated with the idea of “reaching the other shore.”
Mahayana Buddhism teaches 六波羅蜜 (roku haramitsu), the Six Perfections, as major practices on the path toward awakening: generosity, ethical discipline, patience, diligence, meditation, and wisdom. They involve giving to others, observing moral precepts, resisting anger and resentment in difficult circumstances, continuing wholesome actions and spiritual practice, training the mind, and understanding things clearly. Through these practices, one is understood to move from the deluded shore of Shigan toward the awakened shore of Higan.
For a long time, I understood Ohigan primarily as a period for honoring the dead. Seen from the Buddhist side, however, it also contains the idea of examining how the living themselves behave.
It is not only seven days for the deceased. It is also a time to consider how we, still on this shore, are living. Once I understood that, the word Higan began to feel very different to me.
The connection between Higan and the spring and autumn equinoxes also leads to something important in Pure Land Buddhism: the direction west.
The autumn sunset and the Western Pure Land
In Pure Land Buddhism, the Pure Land of Amida Buddha is taught to lie in the west. It is therefore known as the Western Pure Land.
Around the spring and autumn equinoxes, the sun rises almost due east and sets almost due west.
I had always remembered the equinoxes mainly as the time of year when day and night are nearly equal in length. Only while researching Ohigan did I learn how deeply the direction of the setting sun is connected with Buddhist belief.
One important text for understanding this connection is the Contemplation Sutra, one of the scriptures that has played a major role in Pure Land Buddhism. It teaches methods of contemplation through which Amida Buddha and the Pure Land are visualized in the mind.
One of these practices is 日想観 (nissōkan), the contemplation of the setting sun.
The sutra instructs the practitioner to sit facing west, watch the sun as it is about to set, and hold its image clearly in the mind. The practitioner watches the sun descend through the western sky while directing the mind toward the Pure Land believed to lie in that direction. Jōdo-shū also explains the relationship between Ohigan and this practice in its current official materials.
This was one of the things that stayed with me most strongly while researching this article.
Watching a sunset is something familiar to us even now. Whether we are by the sea, in the mountains, or in a city, the sun goes down in the west every day.
People once looked at that same sight while believing that a Buddha realm lay in the west, imagining the Pure Land beyond the setting sun.
Shandao, a Chinese monk of the Tang dynasty, had a major influence on the development of Pure Land Buddhism and wrote extensively on the Contemplation Sutra. His teachings later reached Japan, where Hōnen, the founder of Jōdo-shū, regarded Shandao as an important teacher. Jōdo-shū tradition also holds that Hōnen practiced contemplation of the setting sun near Shitennōji Temple in Osaka in 1185.
At the spring and autumn equinoxes, the sun sets almost due west. Because Amida Buddha’s Pure Land is taught to lie in that direction, the setting sun could become a focus for turning one’s thoughts toward it. In Pure Land Buddhism, the sunset visible in the natural world and the Western Pure Land described in scripture came together in the same direction.
The saying that “the world of the living and the world of the dead come closer” also looks different once this background is understood.
Buddhist doctrine does not teach that the physical distance between two worlds literally shrinks at the equinoxes. In Japan, however, some temples and regions have described the period when the sun sets due west as a time when the Western Pure Land and this world are especially close or easier to connect across.
Within the same word, Ohigan, there are both Buddhist doctrine and ways of understanding the tradition that developed in Japan over many centuries.
How Ohigan took shape in Japan
Buddhism originated in India and reached Japan through China, the Korean Peninsula, and other routes. The idea of Higan, as well as teachings about Amida Buddha and the Pure Land, entered Japan through this long history of transmission.
In Japan today, the spring and autumn equinoxes are considered the central days of Ohigan, with three days before and three days after, creating a seven-day period. This form of the Higan-e observance developed in Japan. Sōtō Zen also describes Higan-e as a Buddhist observance that became particularly widespread in Japan.
One early Japanese record often discussed in relation to the later development of Higan-e appears in the Nihon Kōki, a historical chronicle, under the year 806. It records an order for monks at provincial temples across the country to recite the Diamond Sutra for seven days in both spring and autumn for Prince Sawara, who was posthumously known as Emperor Sudō. The name Higan itself does not appear in this record, but it is regarded as an important early reference when considering the later history of Higan observances.
As Pure Land belief spread in Japan, practices of looking toward the setting sun at the spring and autumn equinoxes and praying for rebirth in the Western Pure Land also became more widespread. Jōdo-shū explains that these Buddhist ideas became connected with pre-existing customs of honoring ancestors, eventually contributing to the form of Ohigan known today.
This is one of the things I find so interesting about Japan.
Buddhism did not originate here. Yet religious ideas brought from elsewhere interacted with the ways people in Japan honored the dead and experienced the changing seasons, eventually becoming established as a new annual observance.
Behind the single word Ohigan as it is used today lie Buddhism born in India, Pure Land thought developed in China, and customs of honoring the dead and ancestors that continued in Japan.
Things that began in distant places and distant centuries are now part of autumn in Japan.
What Higan means to me
Buddhist funerals and memorial services are still common in Japan today. It is also common for a Buddhist priest to chant sutras for the deceased. Of course, the way a person is mourned and remembered differs according to religious belief and the wishes of the individual and family.
When my grandfather and great-grandparents died, Buddhist priests chanted sutras for them.
My beloved dog is now resting in a communal burial site with other animals, where Buddhist priests regularly chant sutras for them.
As I researched the meaning of Higan, I naturally found myself thinking about all of them.
In Buddhism, Higan is the realm of awakening, while Jōdo-shū also uses the word for the Western Pure Land. During Ohigan in Jōdo-shū, people turn their thoughts toward those who are believed to be in the Western Pure Land, while chanting the nembutsu and praying for their own rebirth there.
I found myself wondering whether the people and the dog I loved might be in Higan.
Because I do not follow a particular religion, I do not have a personal religious answer to that question.
Still, if Ohigan is a time when the world of the living and the world of the dead are said to be closest, I think it would make me very happy if I could feel their presence just a little nearer than usual.
I had thought I was simply researching a tradition of memorial observance, but at this point Ohigan became connected to my own memories.
The time I spent with my grandfather and great-grandparents, and the years I spent with my dog, are now in the past. I cannot see them again. Even so, there is something comforting to me in the fact that the Japanese calendar still contains two periods each year when people turn their thoughts toward those who have died.
Remembering the dead and reflecting on how we live
During Ohigan today, there are customs of visiting graves, cleaning them, and offering flowers and incense. Families with a household Buddhist altar may place offerings there, and temples hold Higan-e services.
It is also customary to offer ohagi during the autumn Ohigan. The spring sweet is often called botamochi and the autumn version ohagi, names commonly associated with the seasonal flowers peony and bush clover. The names and preparation vary by region and family.
Grave visits and ohagi are among the most visible parts of Ohigan.
Behind them is the Buddhist idea of moving from Shigan to Higan.
One practices the Six Perfections and examines one’s own conduct. In Pure Land Buddhism, one turns toward Amida Buddha’s Pure Land and chants the nembutsu. One also remembers those who have died before us.
Thinking about the dead also leads us to remember that we, too, will one day die. From there comes the question of how we want to live now.
Ohigan is not only a time to think about those on the other shore. It is also a time to look at ourselves on this one.
Learning this made the Buddhist idea of “awakening” feel slightly less distant to me.
When I hear the word enlightenment in Buddhism, I tend to imagine something very far removed from ordinary life, pursued by monks through years of rigorous practice. Yet the Six Perfections include giving to others, refusing to be ruled by anger, continuing to make an effort, and paying attention to one’s own actions.
I am not a Buddhist. Even so, learning that Ohigan can also be a time to consider the conduct of the living has meant a great deal to me.
Between religion and custom
In Japan, practices with religious origins are sometimes passed down as part of everyday life and seasonal custom.
I, too, became familiar with shrines, temples, Obon, and Ohigan simply by living in Japan. I did not take part in them because I belonged to a particular religion.
In an earlier article, “Born Shinto, Die Buddhist?”, I wrote about the ways Shinto and Buddhism can both be present in a person’s life in Japan. Some families visit Shinto shrines for important life events and choose Buddhist rites for funerals. Customs rooted in different religious traditions can exist side by side within a single lifetime.
I have long found this aspect of Japan fascinating.
People continue something because their families have always done it. A custom comes to mind naturally when its season returns. Practices that began in religion can be passed down to the next generation even when the people observing them do not know the doctrine behind them in detail.
I think this is also one way culture survives.
At the same time, since starting Spiritual Japan Journal, I have become more conscious of the fact that behind what I may think of simply as “Japanese culture,” there are people for whom these traditions are deeply held beliefs.
Some people practice Shinto as a faith. Others believe in Buddhist teachings and continue daily practices such as chanting the nembutsu or following other forms of Buddhist discipline. Something familiar to me as part of Japanese culture may be central to someone else’s religious life.
Taking part in a culture and believing in the religion behind it are not the same thing. Even so, I want to keep trying to understand the background of the traditions I encounter.
That is one reason I decided to look more closely at Ohigan.
When I take something I have known all my life and follow it beyond the point where I thought I understood it, its meaning can change.
The words “honor our ancestors and remember those who have passed away”
This year, the Autumnal Equinox fell on September 23.
In Japan, the Autumnal Equinox is a national holiday. Under the current Act on National Holidays, its purpose is defined as a day to “honor our ancestors and remember those who have passed away.”
The Autumnal Equinox has been one of Japan’s national holidays since the National Holidays Act was established in 1948. Higan-e as a Buddhist observance and the Autumnal Equinox as a national holiday have their own distinct histories.
Even so, after researching Ohigan, the wording of the law—“honor our ancestors and remember those who have passed away”—strikes me more strongly than it did before.
The modern Japanese calendar still contains a day whose stated purpose includes remembering the dead.
Learning about Japan while sharing it
It has been one year since I started Spiritual Japan Journal.
Over that year, sharing Japan with readers overseas and learning about Japan myself have become almost the same process.
Whenever I begin researching one subject for an article, another unfamiliar world opens behind it. A shrine leads me into mythology. A temple leads me into Buddhism. A familiar seasonal custom can lead back hundreds of years into history.
Being born and raised in Japan did not mean that I understood Japan.
Ohigan was another example. I had known the word for as long as I can remember.
By looking into it more deeply, I learned about Higan and Shigan, the Six Perfections, the connection between the Western Pure Land and the equinox sunset, and even the practice of contemplating the setting sun described in the Contemplation Sutra.
At the end of that journey through Buddhist thought, I found myself thinking about my grandfather, my great-grandparents, and my dog.
What began as research had become connected to my own memories.
The next time I watch the sun set at the autumn equinox, I think I will remember the practice of contemplating the setting sun. I will also remember the people who once looked toward the same western horizon and imagined Amida Buddha’s Pure Land beyond it.
And perhaps I will feel, just for a moment, that the people and the little companion I loved are a little closer than usual.
Since starting Spiritual Japan Journal, I have been slowly getting to know the country I have lived in all my life all over again.
Japan continues to surprise me.
—Written by Sumire