According to the Ullambana Sutra, a disciple named Mokuren, deeply disturbed by a vision he had of his deceased mother in the Realm of Hungry Ghosts, asked the Buddha how he could release his mother from her suffering. The Buddha told him to prepare a feast for the past seven generations of the dead. After feeding the hungry ghosts of his ancestors, Mokuren saw his mother's release and in response, he did a joyful little dance. And thus, the first Bon Odori, or bon dance, was performed.

Obon is a Japanese Buddhist holiday, usually celebrated from August 13-15, when people return to their hometowns, reunite with their families and clean their ancestors' graves as a way of paying respect. The Bon Odori is a dance festival held during Obon, a time to suit up in your yukata, slip on your geta and dance to the traditional tunes played by musicians sitting on a big wooden structure in the middle of the street.

The most famous Bon Odori in my prefecture is held in Gujo, where every night for over a month townspeople gather in the streets to dance. During the Obon holiday they -- and thousands of tourists -- dance through the night and into the morning.

But instead of going to Gujo, I accepted the invitation from my friend Chris to attend the Bon Odori in his small town of Shirotori, right next door to Gujo. And I'm so glad I did. The atmosphere was comfortable and familial, with lots of kids running around in yukata or pajamas. The dancers of all ages were friendly and willing to help out the bumbling new dancers. And the beer, sold by jovial middle-aged men who I imagined were the Japanese equivalent of Elk's Club members, was only 200 yen.

I'm not saying the dancing was easy (you can see for yourself here), but neither was it impossible. Just the same steps and arm movements, time after time for about ten minutes per song, and once I got the hang of them, the dances became almost meditative, the movements of my body to the music, the colors of the swirling yukata, the glow of paper lanterns, the clack of wooden sandals on asphalt. I was there, dancing in the street, and nowhere else.

When it started to rain, the crowd thinned and only the hardcore dancers were left. When the rain stopped, we returned to the glittering streets and danced like Mokuren, with joy, like witnesses to spirits released, until we couldn't dance anymore.

(You can see more pictures of the Shirotori Bon Odori here.)