Japanese Sounds and Letters Are the Echo of the Heart

Discover how each Japanese syllable carries spiritual resonance — rooted in nature, ritual, and the soul of language.

Japanese is one of the oldest and most spiritually resonant languages in the world. As editor-in-chief of Hiragana Times, I have shared the depth of this language with readers through a bilingual lens for many years. Today, I’d like to reflect once more on the spiritual dimension of the Japanese language — what we call kototama (言霊), the spirit of words.

In Japanese, each character, each syllable carries meaning. But beyond that, it carries rhythm, emotion, and spirit. For example, in the March 2024 issue of Hiragana Times, we featured the theme of swords (katana / 刀). In the traditional craft of swordsmithing, the blade is forged by two or sometimes three artisans striking the metal in alternating rhythm. This process, known as aizuchi (相槌), is not merely physical labor — it is a spiritual act. The synchronized rhythm of hammer and steel creates a sacred resonance. It is said that through this process, a divine energy beyond human capability is infused into the sword.

The everyday Japanese word aizuchi (相槌), which refers to the interjections used in conversation — like “I see,” “yes,” or gentle nods — actually originates from this sacred practice of sword-making. Even our daily interactions are born from ancient rhythms of spirit and cooperation. In ancient Japan, it was understood that all actions, sounds, and even objects contained spiritual resonance.

Interestingly, the Japanese syllabary is called kana (仮名), which uses the character 仮 meaning “temporary.” Why is something so fundamental called “temporary”? If we have temporary names, might there be true names? It is said that each sound — each kana — is in fact a divine name, or kanna (神名), representing the sacred vibration of the cosmos.

To explore this, we must understand what “kami (神)” means in the Japanese context. Unlike the Western concept of God or Allah, kami in Japan refers to nature itself — the wind, the water, the fire, the breath. The energy of the natural world fills our body and mind, and when this energy moves through us, it becomes sound. That sound becomes language. In other words, language is the echo of the heart, and that echo is sacred.

The Bible says, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” Languages differ, but the essence of the human heart is shared across all cultures. Like drawing a cup of water from the great ocean, our hearts carry a portion of divine essence. When our life ends, that water returns to the vast sea.

Before the modern gojūon chart, the Japanese syllabary began with the Hifumi Norito (ひふみ祝詞) — a sacred chant, a spiritual arrangement of sounds meant to generate resonance, not just communication. It follows a 3–5–7 rhythm and ends with the syllable “n”(ん), completing the full cycle of 48 sounds — a symbol of spiritual harmony.

Here is one of the classical versions of the chant, arranged in a traditional 3–5–7 rhythm:

hi, fu, mi (ひふみ)
yo, i, mu, na, ya （よいむなや）
ko, to, mo, chi, ro, ra, ne （こともちろらね）
shi, ki, ru （しきる）
yu, wi, tsu, wa, nu （ゆゐつわぬ）
so, wo, ta, ha, ku,me, ka （そをたはくめか）
u, o, e （うおえ）
ni, sa, ri, he, te (にさりへて)
no, ma, su, a, se, we, ho （のますあせゑほ）
re, ke,（れけ） n（ん）

This poetic sequence of sounds was believed to carry not just rhythm, but sacred vibration — a mantra encoded in language itself.

We don’t need to look far back to feel this rhythm. Our grandparents didn’t count as “ichi, ni, san” (one, two, three) but as hii, fuu, mii, yo. Even today, we say hitotsu, futatsu, mittsu — counting in a way that feels organic, alive.

The modern 50-sound chart was refined during the Edo period(1603–1868), but some say its roots go back to the Kojiki (古事記), Japan’s oldest chronicle compiled in the 7th century — a time of significant growth in agriculture, writing, and architectural knowledge. The chart’s structure resembles the periodic table, reflecting a growing material consciousness that paralleled scientific development.

In today’s digital world, even the internet is built on language: HTML, CSS, JavaScript — codes and symbols that shape our reality. Language is the invisible foundation of civilization. Humanity has used language to pursue material advancement, leading to breakthroughs like smartphones and computers.

But now, as quantum research progresses, and we approach the singularity, it may be time to restore the balance between matter and spirit.

To do so, we must turn our awareness not only to the outer universe of matter, but also to the inner universe of the heart. To know this inner universe, we must listen closely to our own resonance — our words — and savor each kana (神名), each sacred sound. In doing so, we may begin to recognize the movement of the heart itself — the movement of the divine.

— Koji Taruishi