Hari Kuyō

A Soft Place for a Needle to Rest

It was not long after “Risshun,” the traditional beginning of spring.

Walking through the grounds of Sensō-ji, in Asakusa, there was something unusual near one of the temple halls, crowded as always with people.

On a wooden stand sat several large blocks of tofu.

A person standing before them took a single needle and gently pushed it into the soft tofu.

Then came a quiet moment with hands pressed together.

When that person stepped away, the next moved forward and did the same — placing a needle into the tofu, then bringing their hands together.

What were they doing?

It was “Hari Kuyō” — a memorial service for needles.

Sewing needles and pins that have bent, broken, or otherwise reached the end of their working lives are brought here to be laid to rest.

There is also a wish for greater skill in sewing.

But that is not all.

It is also a way of saying thank you to the needles that have worked for so long.

And so, at the very end, they are placed not into something hard, but into soft tofu.

That made sense.

“At least at the end, you can take it easy.”

It almost felt as though someone might say those words to them.

On the way home, for some reason, the sight would not leave my mind.