A floating gate and timeless serenity. When the tide rises, the tori gate appears to hover – an illusion that feels like a prayer. Here, deer roam freely, and time folds into nature's slow rhythm.  海（うみ）と神社（じんじゃ）が出会う場所（ばしょ）Umi to jinja ga deau basho – Where the sea and shrine meet.

When the tide rises, the iconic torii gate of Itsukushima Shrine – Itsukushima Jinja – appears to float. An ethereal vision, it feels less like architecture and more like a sacred breath held just above the waves. It captures the quiet heart of Miyajima, an island where nature and spirit drift as one.

In the morning, we wandered slowly through familiar paths, pausing to take photos of quiet corners, pagodas, and deer framed against the spring sea. Each frame felt like a hand-drawn memory. At the water's edge, I tried to shapen my Japanese with a kind local woman about my long-awaited visit to this place of dreams – yume no tabi. Her smile carried the ease of someone who had seen many seasons, and yet still stopped to watch the tide come in.

Surrounded by gently rising mountains – yūdai na yamayama – Miyajima curves like a soft bowl of green and stone. Mount Misen rises at its centre, its summit reached by rōpuwei and winding paths. Up there, the view stretches across the Seto Inland Sea – Seto Naikai – a shimmering field of islands and sky. Below, pine trees and rocky outcrops whisper in the sea wind.

The deer – shika – appear everywhere. In the town. In the forest. On the steps of shrines. They are not tame, but they are fearless. They move as if they belong to the island more than we ever could – soft-hooved guides of something ancient.

Easter Monday  

It was Veľkonočný pondelok – Easter Monday – and the rhythm of the place seemed to deepen. The scent of salt, the hush of cedar groves, the slow hush of waves – it all seemed to ask for stillness. I thought of my family – kazoku – and our traditions – dentō. But instead of yearning, I felt held.

Just beyond the five-storied pagoda, I met a young graduate from Hong Kong, spending her holiday here before beginning her new job as a teacher. Surprised and curious, I asked about Easter celebrations in Hong Kong, and our conversation naturally unfolded from there. She had come alone. We sat together beneath the early cherry blossoms – just a few pink petals drifting on the breeze – and talked about what it means to be away on holiday. About how silence can sometimes speak louder than words, and how places like this ask for nothing yet give everything.

Her voice softened as she spoke of her students-to-be, of childhood Easters painting eggs with her grandmother. Of how it feels to be between chapters, walking slowly toward a life not yet written. I offered her a cup of matcha from my small thermos, and together we watched the tide rise once more – carrying with it driftwood, reflections, and a little of our shared solitude.

Then the news came. Somewhere between the ebb and the golden hour, we heard: the Pope had passed away. Not just a man, but a symbol. A presence across time. We stood quietly, looking out toward the floating gate, now bathed in amber light. Even the deer seemed stiller. As if the island – this place of prayer and tide – had understood something before we did.
The world paused, and so did Miyajima. And so, we stayed a little longer.

Many visitors leave by sundown. The last ferry, the last photo, the last rice cracker shared with a deer. But Miyajima is not a place for departures. Not really. Some ryokans offer a deeper way to stay – with private onsens tucked behind shoji screens, and silence woven into the walls.

I have not done that yet – slept here, with the sea breathing outside and steam rising beside the tatami floor. But I will. One day, I will return. And I will stay for more than a fleeting glance. Two nights, maybe three. To let the quiet seep in. To bathe alone beneath the stars. To wake with the island.

Miyajima Marathon 

Digging deeper into this island's quiet magic, I discovered something unexpected. Every year, in the soft light of late March, runners gather for the Miyajima Marathon. It is a small event – humble, heartfelt – carried more by spirit than spectacle. Locals cheer quietly from the sidelines, and the rhythm of footsteps blends with the rustle of pine and the hush of waves.

Even without racing, these spring days hold a particular energy: gentle, steady, unhurried. The air carries the scent of seaweed and cedar. Cherry blossoms begin to stir. It is a perfect time to listen to the mountain. To walk without purpose. To let the sea carry old thoughts out with the tide.

Perhaps, one day, it could be a shared path for our Run and Smile family – a quiet adventure, a new kind of starting line. Not for speed or medals, but for presence. A chance to run together, breathe deeply, and let Miyajima remind us why we move at all.

In Miyajima, nothing rushes. The wind through the pines, the sound of sandals on stone, the soft look in a deer's eyes. Everything moves as if time were water.

A place where the soul remembers how to listen.

Cultural Notes:

• Itsukushima Jinja (厳島神社) is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, famous for its "floating" torii gate, which appears to hover over the sea at high tide. The shrine is dedicated to Shinto deities of the sea and storms, reflecting the deep connection between nature and Shinto belief.
• Mount Misen (弥山) is considered a sacred mountain and is a popular pilgrimage site. It can be reached on foot or by ropeway (ロープウェイ), which connects the lower part of the island with the slopes of Mount Misen. The ropeway is a two-stage system that gradually passes over forested hills, offering increasingly expansive views of the Seto Inland Sea and its scattered islands. The journey is not only a means of transport but an experience in itself – the cabins glide quietly above the treetops as the landscape slowly opens into a panoramic view. It also saves time and energy for pilgrims and visitors who wish to continue to the summit on foot.
• Deer (鹿, shika) on Miyajima are regarded in Shinto tradition as messengers of the gods. They roam freely across the island, are gentle and often come close to visitors, interacting in calm and curious ways.