In ancient Kyoto, a devout Shinto scholar  lived a simple life, but he was often distracted  from his prayers by the bustling city. He felt that his neighbors  were polluting his soul, and he sought to perform  some kind of personal harae— a purification ritual that would cleanse his body and his mind. He decided to travel  to the revered Hie Shrine. The trip was an arduous climb  that took all day. But he was glad for the solitude  it afforded him, and the peace he felt upon returning home was profound. The scholar was determined to maintain this clarity for as long as possible, and resolved to make this pilgrimage another 99 times. He would walk the path alone, ignoring  any distractions in his quest for balance, and never straying from his purpose. The man was true to his word,  and as days stretched into weeks, he walked through driving rain  and searing sun. Over time, his devotion revealed the invisible world of spirits which exists alongside our own. He began to sense the kami,  which animated the rocks underfoot, the breeze that cooled him, and the animals grazing in the fields. Still he spoke to no one, spirit or human. He was determined to avoid contact  with those who had strayed from the path  and become polluted with kegare. This taboo of defilement hung over  the sick and deceased, as well as those who defiled the land  or committed violent crimes. Of all of the threats to the scholar’s  quest for spiritual purity, kegare was by far the greatest. After paying his respects  for the 80th time, he set out for home once more. But as darkness fell, he heard  strained sobs in the night air. The scholar tried to push forward  and ignore the moans. But the desperate cries overwhelmed him. Grimacing, he left his path  to follow the sound to its source. He soon came to a cramped cottage,  with a woman crumpled outside. Filled with pity, the scholar implored  the woman to share her sorrow. She explained  that her mother had just died— but no one would help her with the burial. At that news, his heart sank. Touching the body would defile his spirit, draining his life force and leaving him forsaken by the kami. But as he listened to her cries, his sympathy soared. And so, they buried  the old woman together, to ensure her safe passage into the spirit world. The burial was complete, but the taboo  of death weighed heavily on the scholar. How could he have been so foolish, to shirk his most important rule  and corrupt his divine journey? After a tormented night, he resolved to go back  to the shrine to cleanse himself. To his surprise, the usually quiet temple was filled with people, all gathering around a medium  who communicated directly with the kami. The man hid himself, not daring approach in case anyone glimpse his polluted soul. But the medium had other ways of seeing, and called him forward from the crowd. Ready to be forsaken, the scholar  approached the holy woman. But the medium merely smiled. She took his impure hand in hers, and whispered a blessing  only he could hear— thanking him for his kindness. In that moment, the scholar discovered  a great spiritual secret: contamination and corruption  are two very different things. Filled with insight, the scholar  set himself back on his journey. But this time, he stopped  to help those he met. He began to see the beauty  of the spirit world everywhere he went, even in the city  he'd previously shunned. Others cautioned that he risked kegare— but he never told them  why he so freely mingled with the sick and disadvantaged. For he knew that people could  only truly understand harae through a journey of their own.