Wonderful piece by Austin Gilkeson on up on Tor.com that discusses the fluid roles spirituality, nature, and folklore play within director Miyazaki’s various fictional worlds. Gilkeson observes that unlike many other fantasy stories, the drama of Miyazaki’s various works doesn’t hinge on the simple conflict of a believer (usually a child) trying to convince a typical nonbeliever (usually an adult) that magic or magical creatures are real. Instead, the magical and non-magical elements of the worlds intermingle to various degrees while characters navigate the relatable, beautiful, and complex issues we all face (pain and longing of growing up, fear of losing a parent, loving someone you can’t be with).
Last fall my 2yo daughter and I were stuck together in the house for days on end while she learned to use the potty. It was more stressful and exasperating than I’d anticipated and I found myself turning on the TV more than I’d like to admit. I felt very guilty about that. I was pretty on edge during those few days, which sounds silly looking back. Towards the end of the week, things were clicking and I felt good enough about taking my daughter on a short walk around a pond near our house. My mind was still in potty-mode and I was watching her for any signs we might need to turn around and head back. I was still pretty stuck in the lingering stress from cleaning pee up off the floor all week and the guilt of losing my patience more than usual. I looked over and noticed my daughter was picking things up off the ground and putting them into her empty snack cup. I assumed it was rocks. Both of my kids love to bring rocks inside for some reason. But then she put her hand in and pulled out an acorn and said, “Look Mommy. It’s for my Totoro.” She put the acorn in my hand. I still have it now, in a drawer, over 6 months later.
It’s not that children are pure and innocent and unquestioning—Miyazaki’s young protagonists are thoroughly human and flawed. It’s that they’re open to the spirits in ways adults are not. They don’t mediate their experience of nature and the world through the rituals of religion or calcified worldviews. Mr. Kusakabe may need to visit the camphor tree shrine to speak to Totoro, but Satsuki and Mei don’t—they can find their way to him from their own yard. Adults see what they expect to see. Children have few expectations for what is and isn’t lurking out there in the world; they’re the ones who glimpse shadows moving in the gloom of an abandoned amusement park, a goldfish returned in the shape of a girl, or a small white spirit walking through the grass.
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