Every August, in towns and villages across Japan, a quiet shift happens. Train stations are busier, highways hum with cars heading to the countryside, and the air carries the sound of summer festivals. This is お盆 (Obon) — a time when families pause daily routines to welcome back the spirits of loved ones who have passed away.

While Obon has Buddhist roots, it has evolved over centuries into something deeply woven into everyday Japanese life. Part religious observance, part cultural reunion, it’s a season of connection — between the living and the departed, between family members scattered across cities, and between each person and their own memories.

The Meaning Behind the Rides

One of the most endearing parts of Obon is お盆飾り (Obon kazari) — the offerings and arrangements prepared to greet the spirits. Among them are the 精霊馬 (shōryō-uma), or “spirit animals.” Using vegetables, wooden skewers, and a bit of imagination, families craft a cucumber horse and an eggplant ox.

The cucumber horse is meant to bring the spirits home swiftly — as if galloping back to the world of the living. The eggplant ox, on the other hand, takes them back slowly and gently, allowing time to enjoy the sights of the return journey. Both are set on the family altar or a special stand, simple yet symbolic gestures of welcome and care.

For children, helping to make these little animals is often their first connection to the idea of honoring ancestors. For adults, the sight of them can bring back decades-old memories of summers spent with grandparents, cousins, and the soft hum of cicadas outside.

Guiding the Way with Light

In some regions, the spirits’ journey is marked by 精霊流し (Shōryō-nagashi) — “sending the spirits away by water.” Families place offerings and small lanterns in boats, letting them float down rivers or drift out to sea, the light guiding the way home.

Elsewhere, 提灯 (chōchin) — traditional paper lanterns — are hung outside homes or carried during visits to family graves. Their glow is more than decoration; it’s a beacon for the spirits, a gentle sign saying, this is where you belong, even now. The warm, flickering light against the summer night air holds a feeling of comfort that words rarely capture.

More Than Ritual — A Time for Family

Obon is also one of the biggest family homecoming seasons in Japan. Many businesses close for several days, giving people time to travel back to their hometowns. Kitchens fill with familiar smells — simmering vegetables, freshly grilled fish, the sweet earthiness of miso soup.

Families often visit ohaka (gravesites) together, tidying the area, offering flowers, and lighting incense. These visits are rarely solemn affairs; they’re as much about storytelling and connection as they are about ritual. It’s common to see families laughing together, children darting between gravestones, and elders sharing stories of “when your grandfather was your age.”

Evenings might be spent at bon odori (盆踊り) festivals — lively community dances held outdoors, often with food stalls and taiko drum performances. Under strings of lanterns, people of all ages join the circle, moving to rhythms passed down through generations.

Why Obon Feels Universal

You don’t need to have grown up in Japan to connect with the spirit of Obon. At its heart, it’s about remembering, welcoming, and giving thanks. It’s about taking the time to pause and say — you are not forgotten.

The gestures are small, but meaningful: a cucumber horse carrying someone swiftly back home, a lantern glowing softly in the summer night, a river dotted with tiny boats fading into the horizon. They’re reminders that love and memory can travel any distance — and that sometimes, the most profound connections are the quietest ones.

Wherever you are in the world, perhaps there’s space to bring a little Obon into your own life — by remembering someone dear, by lighting a candle in their honor, or simply by sharing a story about them at the dinner table.