Raised by Many Gods — Did I Learn… or Get Lost? ⛩️⛪

Hello deer,

If you’re new here,

I’m Serina, or just Seri and I'm from Kobe 🇯🇵

I’m a social sciences student with a love for femininity, philosophy, and all things soulful, poetic, or a little bit forgotten by the modern world.

This blog, Seri’s World, is a reflection space.

I write about what I observe, what I feel, and what I long for, whether it’s Japan, femininity, anthropology or the quiet resistance of choosing a gentler way of living.

Today's topic is religion.

Growing up, spirituality wasn’t something I had to search for. It was already around me.

In my family, religion was never taught as a rule. It wasn’t something I had to obey or recite from a book. It was simply lived — passed down through gestures, festivals, shared meals, prayers whispered at shrines or tombs, and deep respect for things invisible. I grew up watching different belief systems exist in harmony, overlapping gently like waves on the same shore.

Today’s post is a personal reflection on what it meant to grow up surrounded by Christianity, Shinto, Buddhism, and Ryukyuan animism and how those experiences shaped the way I relate to the spiritual world now.

The beginning ⛩️⛪

In my family, religion was never a simple story. It was many stories, quietly weaving together. Different faiths, practices, and beliefs coexisted without conflict, creating a rich landscape of spirituality I learned from.

My mother was Christian as a child. Her grandmother was Christian too. Around her teenage years, she felt closer to that faith. While she wasn’t openly religious as I knew her, she passed down some teachings with kindness. My cousin, whose father was Swiss and Christian, brought some of that tradition into our family gatherings. We attended church sometimes and celebrated Easter and Christmas. It was a presence in our lives, but not the whole picture.

On my father’s side, the spiritual world was more complex. It was a blend of Shinto, Buddhism, and Ryukyuan animism, all interwoven naturally.

Shinto was a living religion in our home, guiding important life moments like births, weddings, and blessings. We had household shrines, visited temples and shrines, and celebrated Shinto festivals (matsuri) which are deeply religious events. These festivals brought community, prayers, and celebration together, showing how spirituality can be alive, joyful, and part of everyday life.

Buddhist rituals were part of how we honored death and remembered ancestors. This wasn’t contradictory to Shinto but part of the whole spiritual rhythm.

The spiritual influence that still calls to me most is Ryukyuan animism, which my grandmother practiced deeply.

During visits to Okinawa, I felt how sacred the sea and nature are. The sea is not just environment, but a spiritual force. We visited sacred places like utaki, offered prayers to sea deities, and honored the connection between the living, ancestors, and spirits of the natural world.

The ideas of Mabui — the life essence — and Nirai Kanai, a mythical origin land across the sea, are not just myths but lived beliefs, holding peace and meaning. This worldview brings a deep calm, a connection with nature and the flow of life that I carry with me.

This mix of religions and spiritualities was never confusing or overwhelming. It was natural. It felt like a garden with many different plants, each offering something vital.

Later....

.... I explored Christianity more deeply for a time because I was curious about its values.

But eventually, I completely let go of Abrahamic faiths, including Christianity and Islam, after learning more about myself and my spiritual needs.

Today....

I am spiritual but not religious. I follow animism, especially Ryukyuan animism, because it brings me peace. I don’t turn back to Christian teachings for grounding because my path has shifted fully toward those deeper connections with nature.

Growing up surrounded by these varied beliefs taught me something important — spirituality is not about strict rules or choosing one path over another. It is about connection: to the past, to nature, to the unseen threads that hold us together.

For Shinto practices in our household:

Kamidana (神棚): A small Shinto altar in the home where we offered water, rice, or salt daily to the kami.

Omamori: Protective charms we kept in bags, rooms, or near children to ensure health, safety, or academic success.

Hatsumode: Visiting a shrine in the first days of the New Year to offer prayers, draw omikuji (fortune slips), and buy new charms.

Shichigosan (七五三): Celebrating the growth of children at ages 3, 5, and 7 with formal shrine visits in traditional clothing.

Matsuri: Participating in summer festivals like Gion Matsuri or local mikoshi processions, offering food or dancing for good harvest and health.

Ryukyuan Animism – Practices and Celebrations in our household :

Rituals to the sea or nature spirits :

Still practiced in coastal villages.

Small fishing communities still perform sea-blessing ceremonies, especially before typhoon season or big fishing trips. Offerings to the sea or cave shrines still happen in places like Kudaka-jima, Hamahiga, or Miyako-jima.

Shimi (シーミー) / Seimei-sai (清明祭)

Very much alive.

This ancestral grave festival is still widely practiced in Okinawa every spring. Families, including younger generations, gather at the family tombs, clean the area, offer food, and spend time together. It remains a deeply rooted and joyful tradition.

Ohakamairi (grave visits)

Also very common.

Okinawans still regularly visit family tombs, especially during Obon or Shimi. Offerings like flowers, food, and incense are made. Children often join, making it a multigenerational custom.

Mabui-gumi (マブイグミ)

Still practiced in rural and traditional households.

When someone experiences shock or trauma, family elders or spiritual women sometimes perform this healing ritual. It is especially done with children or those showing signs of emotional distress. It's subtle and often informal.

For Buddhist rituals:

Obon (お盆): Preparing food offerings for ancestors, lighting lanterns, and visiting family graves to guide spirits back home.

Hōji (法事): Attending memorial services for deceased relatives on the 7th, 49th, or 100th day after death, and on yearly anniversaries.

Grave visits (ohakamairi): Cleaning graves and offering incense, flowers, and food especially during seasonal times or birthdays.

Because I grew up surrounded by many faiths, I did not fully believe in all of them in the same way. Shinto rituals, especially the matsuri festivals, felt more like cultural celebrations — beautiful and meaningful but symbolic rather than strict beliefs.

The rituals to the sea and nature spirits, which my grandmother practiced, carried a quiet spirituality. I loved following her and feeling that deep connection to nature, even if I was not sure it was “real” in a concrete way.

Having so many different beliefs around me sometimes made me wish for one faith that could explain everything I wondered about.

Questions like "Why are we here?" or "What happens after we die?"

Because I grew up with many faiths, I often found myself asking if I could really live a life without any religion at all. That question stayed with me as I grew and searched for what felt most true to my own spirit.

🌿 Closing Thoughts

Growing up in a household where many faiths coexisted didn’t confuse me. It grounded me.

There was never just one way to pray, one way to believe, or one story to follow. Instead, I watched my family move through life with different spiritual gestures —some from Christianity, others from Shinto or Buddhism, and many from the quiet, earth-bound beliefs of Okinawa. Each belief had its own place. And somehow, they never clashed. They overlapped, softly. Like hands folded over one another.

It taught me early that there is more than one language to speak to the invisible. That rituals don’t always need to match, they just need to carry meaning. That faith can live in festivals, in silence, in the sea, in firelight, or in the way you thank your ancestors for simply existing.

As I grew older, I began choosing what stayed with me and what I needed to let go. Now, I walk with animism, especially the peaceful spirituality of the Ryukyuan islands. A belief in nature’s spirit. In the soul’s quiet return. In the presence of the sea.

Growing up with many religions didn’t give me confusion, it gave me freedom.

To listen. To remember. To create a sacred space of my own.

And in that freedom, I found peace.