See Priests Run: Decoding the Names for the Months in the Old Japanese Calendar

Japan lives in more than one time. Like most of the world, it follows the Gregorian calendar: January 1 as the start of the year and December 31 as the end of it.

Yet beneath that familiar, solar order runs an older current. Before 1873, Japan marked its seasons by a different light - that of the moon.

This was the kyureki (旧暦), the old lunisolar calendar, where each new moon marked the start of a month. The names for the months were not numbers but seasonal observations condensed into a single word.

These rose from nature and the rituals of the people who lived within it, the names translating into a yearly conversation between the sky and the soil.

Even now, these names surface from time to time - in poetry, in the opening line of a letter and on calendars printed for nostalgia.

To know the meanings behind the months is to have a doorway back to an era when time was not only measured but also felt.

Beginning from a Chinese Lunar Calendar

Until 1873, Japan followed a lunisolar calendar brought from China through Korea in the sixth century, then reshaped over centuries to suit the country’s seasons and customs.

Each month began on the day of the new moon and, because a lunar cycle averages about 29.5 days, a lunar year is about 11 days shorter than the solar one. To keep the seasons from drifting away from the calendar, an extra - intercalary - month was added roughly seven times every 19 years.

This meant the months did not align neatly with the European calendar; the old calendar was about a month behind.

For instance, January 1, 1870 in the kyureki corresponds to February 1, 1870 in the modern calendar, while New Year’s Day of the following year fell on February 19. The Japanese New Year thus arrived about a month later than it does now, closer to the Lunar New Year still celebrated across East Asia.

When Japan adopted the Gregorian calendar in 1873, it entered a new rhythm - one based on the sun’s path rather than the moon’s phases. The year now had 365 days, with a leap day every four years.

But the old names for the months are sometimes used, especially by those who like to mark time with a touch of poetry.

睦月 Mutsuki: The Month of Growing Closer

The year began with Mutsuki, the Month of Growing Closer, a name said to derive from the word 'mutsubi-tsuki'.

Even today, the first month is a season of visits. People exchange greetings and gifts with those in their social circle, calling on one another in a cycle of social renewal.

Another theory traces Mutsuki to 実月 - the kanji used here could be rendered as the Month of Seeds. This is the time when rice grains are soaked in water to prepare for spring planting.

Mutsuki fell roughly between late January and early March. In other words, while the snow lingered, seeds were already being prepared for the new year.

如月 Kisaragi: The Month of Layered Clothes

The second month, the coldest part of the year, was Kisaragi: the Month of Adding Layers. This set of characters - 如月 - was adopted from China but the pronunciation is Japanese.

People in modern Japan still wrap up in extra layers at this time of the year: ki - 衣, garment - is combined with sara - 更, more or further - and gi - 着, wear.

According to a less well-known theory, another set of characters also pronounced as kisaragi inspired the name of the month. 気更来 - More Energy Comes - points to the faint signs of spring starting to stir.

弥生 Yayoi: The Month of Ever-Growing Life

The third month carried the name Yayoi - Ever Growing. The prefix 弥 means 'increasingly' and 生, 'to grow'.

The cold loosens its grip, the trees bud and the landscape seems to breathe again. The third month was also known as Sakurazuki - the Cherry Blossom Month - and Hanamizuki, the Flower-Viewing Month.

Even today, baby girls are sometimes named Yayoi, symbolizing warmth, renewal and the return of color after winter.

卯月 Uzuki: The Month of Deutzia Blossoms

The fourth month, Uzuki, marked the beginning of summer in the old Japanese calendar. Its name is thought to have come from utsugi, the Japanese deutzia - its small white flowers bloom at this time of the year.

The name is sometimes linked to uezuki (植え月) - the Month of Planting - a reference to the first rice seedlings of the year taking root in watered fields.

Uzuki corresponded to late April through early June in the modern calendar. People would change into lighter garments and the skies would clear - the whole world seemed refreshed.

皐月 Satsuki: The Month of Rice Planting

By the fifth month, the world is a vivid green. In Satsuki, rice planting reaches its height: seedlings are lifted from their seed beds and set, one by one, into the flooded fields.

The sa of Satsuki is said to have come from sanae, rice sprouts, or from kosaku, cultivation - both speaking of growth shaped by human hands.

Also read as 'sawa', the character 皐 refers to a marsh, swamp or wetland. More poetically, it can mean still water that reflects light.

The character offers a fitting image for the month spanning late May to early July - a time when land and water meet, the rainy season arrives and rice fields shimmer as they mirror the sky.

水無月 Minazuki: The Month of Water

The name for the sixth month, Minazuki, is one of the more debated. Written with the characters for 'water', 'none' and 'month', it appears to mean 'the Month Without Water'.

Yet this is precisely when the rice fields brim with it. Scholars point out that the 'na' here is not a negation but a possessive: 'of'. Thus, Minazuki is actually the Month of Water.

Minazuki is also the name of a sweet traditionally served on the last day of the sixth month. A steamed rice cake topped with azuki beans, the sweet was eaten as part of rituals to purify the body for the second half of the year.

文月 Fumizuki: The Month of Writing

The seventh month was Fumizuki: the Month of Writing. The most widely accepted origin story lies in an old Tanabata custom.

On the night when the Weaver and Cowherd stars met across the Milky Way, people opened their books and aired them in the evening breeze, praying that their calligraphy would improve.

Because of this, the month was originally called Fumihirakizuki or Fumihirogezuki (文披月 / 文広月) - the Month of Opening Books - which, over time, became Fumizuki. The character 文, meaning 'book' or 'writing', preserves that connection between prose and prayer.

Another theory links the name to the practice of tying handwritten verses as well as wishes onto bamboo branches to mark Tanabata. Whether through poems, books or prayers, Fumizuki has long been a month when words and wishes are entrusted to the wind.

Another interpretation connects Fumizuki to hofumizuki, the Month of Ripening Rice Ears. Both meanings capture the dual themes of August: growth in the fields and the mind.

葉月 Hazuki: The Month of Leaves

The eighth month, Hazuki, is the Month of Leaves - a name sometimes said to derive from ha ochizuki, 'the month when leaves fall'. Others suggest it comes from hohari tsuki, the 'month when rice ears grow, pointing to the height of the harvest season.

In the lunar reckoning, Hazuki fell around September. This being a time when geese flew south for the winter, the name of the month may have originally been hatsukari zuki: the Month of the First Geese.

長月 Nagatsuki: The Long Month

The ninth month was Nagatsuki, the Long Month. Some say the name comes from yonaga tsuki - the Month of Long Nights - others prefer nagame tsuki: the Month of Long Rains.

In the modern calendar, Nagatsuki corresponds to around October: autumn deepens, the rice is harvested and the fields are drained.

Other names for Nagatsuki are momijizuki, the Month of Red Maples, and kikuzuki, the Month of Chrysanthemums. Fall colors brighten the mountains even as the nights stretch out.

神無月 Kannazuki: The Month Without - or With - Gods

The name for the 10th month, Kannazuki, is written with characters meaning 'god', 'none' and 'month' - the Month Without Gods.

According to Shinto tradition, this is when the many deities of Japan leave their shrines and gather at Izumo Taisha in Shimane prefecture. For the rest of the country, it is said to be a month without divine presence; in Izumo, it is called Kamiarizuki, the Month of Gods.

Yet language is slippery: some argue that, as in Minazuki, 'na' means 'of', making it the Month of Gods throughout Japan.

Whichever reading one favors, Kannazuki is a time of harvest festivals and thanksgiving.

霜月 Shimotsuki: The Month of Frost

By the 11th month, frost had come - shimotsuki literally means Frost Month.

Shimotsuki would equate roughly to December in the modern calendar. Among the month's other names are Kamikizuki (神帰月) - the Month When the Gods Return - and Kamikizuki (神来月), the Month When the Gods Come. Both recall the belief that, after their great assembly at Izumo in the previous month, the deities set out for their home shrines.

師走 Shiwasu: Priests Run

The old name for the last of the 12 months, Shiwasu - Priests Run - is perhaps the best known of all.

At year’s end, Buddhist monks and Shinto priests rush around conducting rituals and ceremonies. Laymen get busy too: they hurry to finish tasks and do a thorough cleaning of their homes and workplaces - before the end of the year. Time itself seems to pick up its pace.

Other interpretations say Shiwasu comes from toshi-hatsu (年果つ), 'the year’s end'. Another poetic name is Gokugetsu (極月), the Peak Month - the month when the year reaches its culmination.

In today’s Japan, people still speak of December as Shiwasu - the month when everyone, priest or not, runs.

Circles of Time

Not many modern Japanese may know all the old month names, but the kyureki continues to hold significance.

In some parts of Japan, the dates of festivals such as Obon are still based on the Japanese lunisolar calendar. And the names of the months appear in letters and poetry, carrying with them the scent of rain, the labor of the fields and the movement of the gods.

Time itself is not a straight road but a path that circles. Priests may run about at year’s end but they return to the same point - and the seasonal cycle begins again.

By Janice Tay