1.11. My Antahkarana on my favourite hill-Part 1: Miner and Light Angel
The last piece of the puzzle fell into place. At this moment, the purpose of my strange fascination with miners became clear. It was as if a veil had been lifted and I was seeing the whole picture
A present westerly wind was happily drifting under a brilliant blue sky. I was refreshed and drove to the mountains named “Hora Svatého Šebestiána” on the new highway led from Chomutov where I lived, to the border with Germany. My dog Inca sat gracefully in the rear seat, her neck tucked up as if enjoying the ever-changing scenery. It was our routine since that day, June 26th 2021.
“Hora Svatého Šebestiána” in the Czech language, or Mount Saint Sebastian in English, is located in the Chomutov District of the Ústí nad Labem Region in the Czech Republic. The name reflects its historical and religious significance, as it is named after St. Sebastian, a Christian martyr, who was venerated for protection against disease.
The mountain stands at about 1,136 meters and is part of the Krušné hory which is Ore Mountains in English, which extends approximately 160 km and forms a natural boundary between the historical regions of Bohemia in the Czech Republic and Saxony in Germany. This range is noted for its stunning scenery and rich deposits of silver, tin, and other minerals. Its name, "Ore Mountains," is related to plentiful metal ores and has been a UNESCO World Heritage Site since 6 July 2019.
Settlement was slow to progress there. However, after the discovery of silver in Freiberg, Germany in 1168, Mining activities in the Ore Mountains began. By the 13th century, the region became known for the extraction of silver, tin, and other ores. Then, the small settlement that developed became known for its mining operations, which attracted workers and settlers.
I pressed the gas pedal to navigate the steepening road. This was the sign of entering the very foothills of the Krušné hory, which means “hard mountains” in the local Czech language, that is, mountains with too many stones to cultivate. The landscape transformed around me and Doggy Inca, a stark reminder of nature's rugged beauty.
The landscape, adorned with sparkling stones, inspired me to learn about the region's rich mining history which piqued my curiosity and led me to explore the parallels to Japan's mining industry. It began in June 2014, when I adopted a retired racing greyhound Inca.
This is a completely personal passion for miners, and what got me interested in photography, especially reportage, was the photos of miners. I can’t remember exactly when I encountered it, I think it was when I was a freshman in university.
One afternoon, I popped down to Bunkamura Shibuya, a prominent exhibition space located in the heart of Tokyo's Shibuya district, known for hosting a diverse range of art, cultural, and entertainment events. All of a sudden, a big striking black-and-white picture appeared before my eyes. It was Brazilian miners photographed by Brazilian photographer Salgado. His first name is also Sebastião… Such a coincidence…
I was struck by an inexplicable sense of surprise, strangeness, and beauty. It was like I put salt in my coffee, mistaking it for sugar. When I took a sip, I was astonished by the unusual strange taste and realized it was drinkable. I felt something like that.
Pallarelly, ever since I ventured beyond my hometown, Tokyo, I have cultivated a habit, which is an almost instinctive urge, to draw comparisons between the places I visit and Japan. Through the exploration of their similarities and differences, I can peel back the layers to reveal the true essence of each place, crafting a vivid portrait that connects the heritage of the places I encounter with my Japanese roots.
In this process, which could be said to be like a mixing process of mining and alchemy, they intertwine within me. Eventually, both can become part of me. I call it magic because it enriches my soul and breathes life into every new horizon I embrace. I am sure that I will practice this magic for the rest of my life.
I was just halfway up the mountains and had another 20 minutes of driving to reach the destination. In the meantime, I'd like to transcribe the unique portrait of mining history in the Krušné hory and Japan.
At the eastern edge of the Eurasia continent, Japan, the first recorded mining activity, as mentioned in the "Nihon Shoki" (Chronicles of Japan), relates to the mining of gold in the Yamato region, which is now part of Nara Prefecture, during the early 7th century, the reign of Emperor Jitō, who ruled from 686 to 697 AD.
Emperor Jitō:持統天皇 was the 40th emperor of Japan. Interestingly, she was the first woman to ascend the throne in her own right, focusing on stabilising and consolidating power during her reign. Empress Jitō was instrumental in promoting land reforms and strengthening the central government. Her reign is noted for the continued development of the ritsuryō:律令 system, which structured the government based on the Tang dynasty (618-907 AD) in China.
The Ritsuryo system was a centralized bureaucratic government structure derived from Chinese legal and administrative systems. The term "Ritsuryo" refers to the codes and laws (律:ritsu) and administrative regulations (令:ryo) that were instituted to govern the state.
At the same time in the 7th century, the Kingdom of Bohemia was not yet a fully developed political entity. It was inhabited primarily by Slavic tribes and in the 9th century, it was founded.
The Krušné hory region became an important mining centre during the Mediaeval Period (11th-16th centuries) since the first discovery of silver deposit, providing valuable resources, mainly silver, for the Kingdom of Bohemia to thrive the most during the late 14th and early 15th centuries, especially under the rule of Charles IV (1346–1378) when he became the Holy Roman Emperor, significantly elevated Bohemia's status in Europe. The Kingdom of Bohemia was located in the central part of the present-day Czech Republic.
Talking about silver, the first silver mine in Japan is generally considered to be the Iwami Ginzan Silver Mine (石見銀山), located in the Iwami region of Shimane Prefecture. It is written "Stone(石:ishi) visible(見:mieru)”, but it read “Rock(岩:iwa) visible”, because of the many rocks in the area.
Mining at Iwami Ginzan began in the late 16th century, around 1526, during the late Muromachi period (1336 -1573) which was the most significant period in the "Middle Ages" in Japan. The Ashikaga shogunate established his government in the Muromachi district in Kyoto. This period followed the Kamakura period, marked by the rise of the Ashikaga clan and a shift of power from the warrior class generally associated with the Kamakura shogunate. The influence of the emperor during this time was often overshadowed by the military leaders (shogun) as Japan was predominantly ruled by the samurai class for more than 500 years with the resource of the Iwami Silver mine.
Eventually, the Portuguese learned about Iwami silver, and visited Tanegashima in 1543, introducing firearms to Japan. After that, firearms were gradually introduced to the battlefield, greatly changing the way warfare was fought. The guns, attracted by Japanese silver, subsequently became the sword's mortal enemy.
Iwami silver became essential for Portugal’s trade with Asia. It developed into a triangular trade centred on Iwami silver.
First, they purchased cheap raw silk in China. (Green arrow)
They brought the raw silk to Japan and exchanged it for silver. (Red arrow)
They used Japanese silver to purchase silk fabrics and ceramics from China, and spices from Southeast Asia. (Yellow arrow)
They brought these back to Europe and made a huge profit. (Blue arrow)
The Iwami silver mine gained prominence in the Edo period (1603–1868) and played a crucial role in financing the Tokugawa shogunate, and the revenues from the mine supported various public projects and military expenditures. Iwami Ginzan was recognized for its historical importance and was designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 2007.
When Japanese silver began to flow overseas through triangular trade, the Jáchymov mine which is about 50 km to the west of “Hora Svatého Šebestiána” and part of the Krušné hory (Ore Mountains) range, was established in the 16th century.
The Ore Mountains experienced a peak in mining activities during the 16th and 17th centuries, driven by the demand for silver, tin, and other minerals. Jáchymov, in particular, became one of the most important silver mining centres in Europe during this period. The combination of innovative mining techniques and the introduction of metallurgical processes like cupellation contributed to the overall production capacity and economic development of the region.
Cupellation is a refining process that was historically used to separate precious metals, especially silver, from ores and alloys by removing base metals and impurities. The cupellation process typically involved heating the ore in a furnace with a flux (such as lead), allowing the lead to combine with impurities, and then separating the resulting lead oxide from the precious metals.
The origins of cupellation can be traced back to ancient civilizations, with evidence suggesting that it was invented in the Early Bronze Age (3300 BCE~), probably in Anatolia and was practised by the Romans and the ancient Greeks. Anatolia, also known as Asia Minor, is a large peninsula located in the western part of Asia, which makes up the majority of modern-day Turkey.
Then, cupellation was introduced in ancient China around the 3rd century BCE. The process was used in the context of extracting metals, particularly lead and silver, from ores. Historical records indicate that ancient Chinese metallurgists were already employing various forms of refining techniques, including cupellation, to produce high-purity metals, and by the time of the Han Dynasty (206 BCE – 220 CE), the techniques, including cupellation, were well-established. However, it didn’t cross the ocean to Japan until 1533 CE.
Yet, in Europe, cupellation did not become widespread until the Middle Ages, around the 12th century. It became especially important when silver mining flourished in the Krusne Hory and other parts of Central Europe. The total amount of silver produced in Europe at that time was considerable, peaking at around 1,200-1,500 tons of silver per year in the late 16th and 17th centuries.
If we extrapolate from these figures that Krusne Hory produced around 100-200 tons of silver per year at its peak (although this would more likely have been in the late 16th century rather than the 17th), then we would find that the region accounted for around 8-15% of European silver production during that period.
Eventually, in Japan in 1533, Iwami Ginzan invited two skilled metallurgists from Korea to introduce the cupellation method. The introduction of the cupellation method significantly increased the amount of silver produced at Iwami Ginzan, and the technique was eventually introduced to mines in other areas, such as the Sado Gold and Silver mines, bringing about a major revolution in Japanese mining technology.
Thanks to the cupellation, by the early 17th century, Japan's annual silver production had reached an impressive 200 tons. Interestingly, this mirrored the output of the Krusne Hory mines in Czechia, which also produced a maximum of 200 tons of silver at a similar period. This synchronicity is a striking parallel, like the gleaming quality of silver itself. This is the shining part of my unique portrait.
Just as in photography, I believe that all art requires the interplay of light and shadow. Only with the presence of both yin and yang - the balance of illumination and darkness - can the true essence and depth of the work emerge. It is this contrast that gives the artwork its full dimension and richness, much like the shining, multifaceted nature of my unique artistic portrait.
I eased off the gas pedal a little. The slope started to ease up.
"A miner lives three years, a smelter eight years, and a wife fifty years"
"A woman in a silver mine has three husbands."
These are humorous songs from the Tokugawa period. Deep shafts to access the rich silver deposits below the surface forced miners to work long hours in dim light, without exposure to sunlight and inhaling the ore, and the cupellation method, which dramatically increased production, led to lead poisoning among smelters. If miners lived to the age of thirty in the Iwami mine, they were celebrated as if they had reached the age of sixty which is called “Kanreki: 還暦”.
Kanreki is a unique and meaningful celebration in Japan that marks the completion of a full life cycle and the start of a new chapter. It is a deeply rooted cultural tradition that reflects the Japanese values of respect for elders, appreciation for longevity, and the cyclical nature of life.
Similarly, miners in the Ore Mountains worked long hours in arduous conditions. Mining was physically demanding work, often conducted underground in dark, damp conditions with limited safety measures. The work involved drilling, extracting ore, loading it onto carts, and transporting it to the surface, which required considerable physical strength.
It's hard to imagine the gruelling conditions miners endured deep underground. However, I am claustrophobic, so I could feel the fear and I'm struck by the hardship so many miners endured, all to eke out a meagre living from the unforgiving earth. The countries and eras may differ, but the harsh realities faced by miners seem to transcend time and place, I would conclude my unique portraits of miners started from the inexplicable sense captured so powerfully in the photographs of Sebastião Salgado to Japan and would end with the Krusné Hory with a day in the life of a miner in the Krusné Hory in the Ore Mountains, as I imagine it.
Miner and Light Angel
A miner got up before dawn, the inky blackness of winter still cloaking the small mining town. By the flickering light of a candle strapped to his forehead, he'd make his way to the station, boarding the steam locomotive that would carry him and the other workers to the mine entrance, where light angels with candles awaited them. They are symbols of happiness and life for miners. The real ordeal would begin - the two-hour descent down the pitch-black ladder into the earth's bowels.
Gripping the cold, worn rungs, the miner would slowly make his way down, his weary muscles straining. The air grew thick and stale, the only sound was the creaking of the wooden structure and the laboured breathing of the men. Finally, his feet would hit the rocky floor of the mine shaft, signalling the start of his 10-hour shift.
Toiling away by the light of a single candle, the miners would chip away at the rock face, searching for the elusive veins of ore. Success was never guaranteed - if the vein ran out, they might not be paid at all, no matter how hard they'd worked. Exhaustion would set in, but there was no time to rest. The arduous climb back up the ladder awaited.
But today was different. The miner felt a glimmer of anticipation, for tomorrow, the town would come alive with the mining festival – a celebration of their heritage. He envisioned himself donning the traditional attire, parading through the streets to the rhythm of music, and then losing himself in the dance, surrounded by the warm glow of lights and the camaraderie of his community. With renewed vigour, the miner tackled the day's work, his heart filled with the promise of renewal and the chance to honour the legacy of those who had toiled before him. Next to him, a light angel was smiling.
I stopped my imagination with satisfaction. I finally made a vivid portrait that connects the heritage of the places I encounter with my Japanese roots!
It began with a striking black-and-white photograph. In the middle of Tokyo, a foreign miner in damp, dirty clothes was staring back at me. In his background, there were hundreds of miners just like him... This strange image sparked an inexplicable curiosity in me.
Years later, I moved to a small town where not much was happening, except for the prominent mining history of the ore mountain... For years, I had been collecting scattered pieces with my daughter, my dog, and even my ex-husband, but I never thought about why I was doing it.
Just as I tried to uncover the truth lying beneath the surface, like the miners, I found the "Mirror of Yata:八咫鏡" beneath my forgotten memories. At the same time, I had an intuition.
On the way to the destination where I would try out the intuition, I completed the unique portrait of mining history in the Krušné hory and Japan with….
The photographs, the miners, the ore mountains and silver mining in Japan, the introduction of cupellation, the angel of light... These were the actual pieces I had collected.
Cupellation is one of the practical techniques used by alchemists in their experiments. Long ago, in the process, alchemists used cupellation to separate and refine silver and gold from ores and other materials, focusing mainly on the mystical transformation of substances.
I realized that this was very similar to the meditation technique that my meditation teacher Sachidanand taught me, "THE ENERGY ENHANCEMENT MEDITATION SEVEN STEP PROCESS". At the first initiation, he mentioned an unfamiliar word, “V.I.T.R.I.O.L.” I wrote it on my yellow notepad with my left hand.
The last piece of the puzzle fell into place. At this moment, the purpose of my strange fascination with miners became clear. It was as if a veil had been lifted and I was seeing the whole picture with new clarity.
In alchemy, the acronym V.I.T.R.I.O.L. stands for the Latin phrase "Visita Interiora Terrae Rectificando Invenies Occultum Lapidem" (Visit the interior of the earth, and by rectifying, you will find the hidden stone).
This acronym represents an important alchemical concept and principle that was used by alchemists in their quest for transmutation and the search for the Philosopher's Stone.
The meaning and symbolism behind the V.I.T.R.I.O.L. acronym are as follows:
V - Visita (Visit)
I - Interiora (the interior)
T - Terrae (of the earth)
R - Rectificando (by rectifying)
I - Invenies (you will find)
O - Occultum (the hidden)
L - Lapidem (stone)
The alchemists believed that the hidden secrets and mysteries of the universe, including the Philosopher's Stone, could be found by exploring the inner workings and properties of the elements and substances found within the earth itself. The V.I.T.R.I.O.L. acronym symbolized this internal, introspective, and transformative journey that alchemists undertook in their alchemical work.
Finally, I understood what Satchidanand tried to explain on the first day of the first initiation in 2004.
Satchidanand lately wrote in his email;
It was Devi and I created the Seven Step Process and the Initiations of Energy Enhancement Meditation over several years which ended in the highest level of energy - The Avatar of Synthesis - being imbued into Energy Enhancement Meditation.
Here I must mention the source of the Energy being first Zen Master Hogen to first Dan, but later Swami Satchidanand who boosted me over several years to new heights of energy but lastly myself who went even further.
We stand on the shoulders of giants!
S
Ore can be thought of as a blockage, a mixture of precious metals, base metals and impurities. Instead of a furnace, we use the high heat of the magma in the centre of the Earth to melt it down, and the impurities combine with the flux to extract the precious metals. The precious metals can be thought of as light angels. And then we release those angels into our inner power. That's what Sachidanand taught me.
“Angels will give us strength, just as silver brought wealth and power to the Japanese Shogunate and the Kingdom of Bohemia.” I talked to myself.
During this 20-minute drive, I convinced myself of "THE ENERGY ENHANCEMENT MEDITATION SEVEN STEP PROCESS" with actual evidence.
To whom? Of course, to my suspicious mind.
The whole picture showed that I will delve deep inside myself, using "THE ENERGY ENHANCEMENT MEDITATION SEVEN STEP PROCESS", to purify and extract the precious metals within to build an energy tower. Layer by layer, I shall overcome the blockages, like clearing the vein of ore. Sachi told me that this energy tower filled with shining light angels is called the Antahkarana.
I turned right just before “Hora Svatého Šebestiána” with a clear head and mind toward the destination.
To be continued to ….
1.11. My Antahkarana on my Favourite Hill-Part 2: That day on June 26th 2021
Dear Subscribers and Readers,
Thank you so much for reading Chapter 11 of my story, Kiosk, and for joining me on this journey. This article, My Antaclana on My Favourite Hill, Part 1: Miner and Light Angel, is the first half of a two-part story, and I’m thrilled to share it with you.
Writing this chapter has been deeply fulfilling. While working on it, everything seemed to align, as though the pieces of my life naturally fell into place. The original draft was written in 2021, and since then, I’ve revisited, re-read, and edited it, adding photographs and links along the way. This process has been incredibly soothing, allowing me to reflect on how much has changed since then. While I kept the essence of the original script intact to stay true to that moment, I noticed how my perspective has shifted since I first wrote it.
In this chapter, I also had the joy of introducing my local area, where I’ve lived for over 15 years. My daughter, who turned 15, reminds me of how long I’ve been rooted here. Through this story, I wanted to capture the beauty of my everyday life and create a piece of artwork that reflects both my surroundings and my journey. It’s all part of who I am today, and I hope that comes through.
I hope you enjoy this part of the story, and if you ever have the chance, perhaps you’ll visit this place and imagine the lives of the miners who once worked here. The story will continue in Part 2, which I’ve already completed. I’m just finalizing the details—adding links, photographs, and a few last edits. You can expect it in the coming days.
I would also like to express my deep gratitude to my meditation teacher Sachidanand. His guidance has been invaluable to my journey and this writing process, and I hope I have done justice to his meditation method in sharing it with you.
Thank you once again for taking the time to read my work. I appreciate each of you, and it brings me so much joy to share these moments with you.
Warmest regards,
Yuko