Rhapsody for a forgotten flute PART 2

Welcome back to the unfolding saga of Ōmori Sokun. When I first embarked on the quest to reconstruct his life from the scattered traces left across continents and centuries, I had no idea it would pull me into such a labyrinthine adventure.

Yet here I am—poring over temple diaries, tracing forgotten lineages, and delving into obscure digitized scrolls. I’m not alone in this: my teacher’s guidance and the work of others—bloggers, scholars, and quiet archivists—have all helped illuminate the way. Each discovery only deepens the mystery, spawning a dozen new questions for every answer.
And that, my friends, is the thrill of it (delighted smirk).

What began as a study of a man and a flute has morphed into something far more expansive: an immersion into a vanished world, teeming with luminous characters, arcane traditions, and a cultural richness that continues to astonish me.

So come along. This is part two of my deep dive into the life and legacy of Ōmori Sokun—a story that keeps evolving with every new clue. As always, I’ve done my best to document my sources at the end of this ever-growing series.

I hope you’ll find as much joy in exploring this forgotten corner of history as I do in unearthing it.

A quick recap

If you haven’t yet read part one, I highly recommend starting there—otherwise, what follows may feel like jumping into the middle of a noh play with no idea who’s on stage.

In the previous chapter, we met Taira Shinkurō: a musically gifted young man with a deep commitment to Zen. After a formative stint serving as a samurai under Oda Nobunaga, he renounced court life and took up the path of a lay hermit.

Driven by an almost obsessive devotion to the hitoyogiri—a small, nearly forgotten bamboo flute—he set out to rescue its music from extinction. He began by transcribing the oral tradition for posterity and reimagining contemporary pieces for the instrument, making its sound accessible to a broader audience.

His remarkable talent caught the attention of all levels of society, leading him to found his own school of hitoyogiri. But of course, his journey was only just beginning…

The birth of a school

Legend has it that, at the dawn of the 16th century, a mysterious stranger appeared and taught the art of the hitoyogiri to an aging master named Sosa. In time, Sosa founded a school bearing his name and passed on his knowledge to a select group of disciples.

Among them —or perhaps later— Sokun inherited this legacy. He would go on to build upon the foundations laid by the Sosa-ryū (“Sosa school”), refining and expanding the tradition.

Our story now brings us to this very moment, around the year 1600, when Sokun is now widely recognized as a master of the hitoyogiri, drawing students from far and wide who seek to study under his guidance..

Yet, the instrument itself is modest. Almost ordinary. Today, it might well be lumped in with the humble recorder—(which would be unfair to a truly charming instrument—shoutout to my fellow recorder players; I played for a good decade myself). But the moment you hold one, its complexity becomes clear.

Not only is it steeped in Taoist thought, it also demands a particular kind of mastery: Each note must be adjusted “by mouth,” according to not one but five distinct musical scales, each one tied to a season, just like in gagaku, the music of the imperial court.

I’ll be devoting at least one full article to this subject… or, knowing me, several. The cultural context surrounding the hitoyogiri is just too fascinating not to explore at length.
(Anticipative sigh.)

Sokun primarily teaches using one of five musical modes: Oshiki, associated with summer and a specific flute length—because hitoyogiri flutes come in five distinct lengths. And that detail matters.

From his quiet retreat, Sokun doesn’t just commit oral tradition to paper —he also crafts the flutes used in his school. According to legend, they’re of exceptional quality.

Meanwhile, he reads the Chinese classics, meditates, and continues to study… military strategy. In fact, he eventually weaves the two together into a kind of unified theory where music and tactics speak to one another—like a kind of sonic oracle.

In short, Ōmori Sōkun keeps himself busy.

And yet, amid an already demanding life, Sokun stays true to the inner call that shaped his path so far: to save the hitoyogiri from the silence of oblivion.

To do so, he adapts contemporary pieces to suit the tastes of his time, while also taking care to preserve older compositions—called “te” —whose transmission is beginning to fray dangerously as the old masters fade away.

Slow, meditative, and wordless, These pieces follow the rhythm of the seasons, attuning the spirit to the ceaseless movement of yin-yang.

Perhaps they are —though this remains only a hypothesis— the ancestors of honkyoku, the meditative pieces later played on the shakuhachi of the Fuke school.

In 1608, Sokun distills the fruit of his labor into a single manuscript: the Tanteki Hidenfu (“Secret Notes of the Little Flute”). Unknowingly, he commits to paper the earliest known written record of music for the hitoyogiri.

From an ethnomusicological perspective, this book brings together two opposite worlds.

On one side, Yoshinoyama —a hit of the Edo period— emerges as a signature piece of the repertoire. As hitoyogiri music seeps into tea pavilions and scholars’ gardens, this melody becomes a muse for countless poems celebrating cherry blossoms and their swirling petals —still dazzling us today.

At the other end of the spectrum, pieces like Tsushima, drawn from samurai and monastic traditions, bring a meditative depth that balances the lighter, lilting tunes.

This careful interplay between entertainment and introspection fuels the school’s appeal: the lively pieces captivate beginners from all walks of life, while the contemplative works speak to the deeper demands of a spiritual path.

Cherry Blossoms at Yoshino _By Katsushika Hokusai, ca. 1833._ Woodblock print; ink and color on paper. The Metropolitan Museum of Art (Accession no. JP2923). Public Domain.

The following year, he composes a new treatise: the Ritsuryō Bintōshō —a scholarly text on the twelve Chinese tones, in which he weaves together music, cosmology, tuning systems… and something that looks a little like what you would find in the YiJing.

It’s hard to say exactly what he was aiming for. I like to call it his “unified theory.” But that’s another story, for another article.

Oh—one more thing worth mentioning:

At the time, Sokun’s writings weren’t printed. He wrote them out by hand—carefully, patiently —for his students. And those students, in turn, passed the booklets from hand to hand, like fragile treasures.

Which means that today, more than four centuries later, we can still read the notes traced by Sokun himself.

Personally, I find that… well —completely bonkers. The good kind of bonkers. The kind that makes your heart wobble and your eyes go a bit funny.

Sokun’s writings

Here’s a list of the surviving works attributed to Sokun. Not all of them have been digitised yet, and consulting them often means visiting libraries like Yōmei Bunko in Kyōto or Geijutsu Daigaku in Tōkyō.

• Tanteki Hidenfu (Secret Notes of the Little Flute, 1608): the earliest known text on the hitoyogiri—a true bible!Preserved at the Miyagi Michio Memorial Museum.
• Sosa-ryū Shakuhachi Tesu narabini Shoka Mokuroku (1622): outlines the pieces and fingering systems specific to each piece (not each note—a unique feature of the hitoyogiri, which I’ll return to in another post).
• Shakuhachi Hiden-roku (Secret Records of the Shakuhachi, 1623): little information is available about this manuscript—most likely a collection of oral teachings intended for advanced students.
• Shakuhachi Tekasu Mokuroku (1624): a catalogue of pieces for shakuhachi; a signed copy in Sokun’s own hand survives in a private collection known as Fushin’an Bunko.
• Shakuhachi Sōden-shū (1624): a transmission anthology, considered a compendium of lineage knowledge.

In the final years of his life, Sokun enters a kind of writing frenzy: his last known texts date from 1624, and he passes away the following year. In total, he commits no fewer than 70 musical pieces to paper, organised according to the five chōshi (the four seasons, plus the interseason).

Thanks to him, the hitoyogiri broke free from its oral roots to become a written legend —ready to carry its breath across the centuries, unbroken.

The legacy of a Superstar Hermit

Sokun’s music eventually reaches the imperial court and catches the ear of Emperor Goyōzei. We are around the year 1605.

Intrigued by this unusual hermit and his outdated flute —now revived with uncommon zeal— the emperor invites him to court to hear him play.

Clearly, Goyōzei was impressed: he commissions five flutes from Sokun, each crafted for one of the five modes mentioned earlier.

This imperial gesture adds to Sokun’s growing reputation. Believe it or not, one of those very flutes has since entered legend. The emperor, charmed by its ethereal tone, lightly brushed a calligraphy onto its slender bamboo body: reion —spiritual tone.

Insignificant little flute player that I am, I must say… I couldn’t agree more.

Actually, a few flutes made by Ōmori Sōkun have survived the centuries and reached us. One is held at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, while two others are on display at the Tokugawa Art Museum in Nagoya, Japan.

Meanwhile, the Sosa-ryū school experiences a meteoric rise. The sound of the hitoyogiri resonates across all levels of society —from monasteries to tea pavilions. Sokun gains prestigious patronage, and his influence soon reaches the inner circle of Tokugawa Ieyasu himself —shogun, and de facto ruler of Japan.

For instance,the tea ceremony master Kobori Enshū (Masakazu) commissions a flute from him, one he named “White Rain”.

Even the monk-poet Ikkyū, known for his sharp wit and wild spirit, is said to have fallen under the spell of the little flute. It’s even whispered that Sokun may have taught the hitoyogiri to Tokugawa Ieyasu —or Oda Nobunaga himself (though that would have been at a rather tender age… doubtful rise of left eyebrow).

If true, it would suggest that Sokun was already a remarkable player in his youth. And from an ethnomusicological perspective, it would support the idea that samurai carried their hitoyogiri with them on military campaigns.

…But let’s not get carried away. I do have a few doubts about Nobunaga picking out a small page playing the flute in the middle of his army.

Other key figures crossed his path—and if you happen to be a bit of a shakuhachi nerd (I am too —and I mean that as the highest compliment), a few of these names might ring a bell:

• Nakamura Sōzan (or Soza): published the Shichiku Shoshin-shū in 1664, one of the first printed manuals for hitoyogiri (not to be confused with the later work by Juntei in the 18th century, which bears the same title).
• Murata Sōsei: compiled a collection of pieces in 1669, the Dōshokyoku, published in Kyōto—a sign that the Sosa-ryū tradition was still very much alive in the Kansai region during the 17th century.
• Sashida Ichion (“Shida”): an active performer in Edo (Tokyo), and founder of the Sashida-ryū school.
• Hara Zesai (†1669): shakuhachi player, flute maker, and self-declared heir to the Sosa-ryū lineage.
  And closer to us :
• Inoue Shunzui: a scholar and passionate advocate for the hitoyogiri during the 19th Century, even though by this time, the little flute was already extinct.

Twilight of a soul, rebirth of an Art

From everything I’ve read so far —and perhaps this is part of why I feel so drawn to him— Sokun, despite his prestigious connections, always chose to return to the moss-covered stones of temples and secluded places, rather than surrender to the splendour and luxury of a city life he had more than earned.

Unlike other masters of his time, he sought neither a post at a grand temple nor a position within the shogunal administration.

Nonetheless, he was awarded the honorary title of Hokkyo —Bridge of the Dharma— likely in recognition of his artistic mastery rather than any formal religious standing. “Bridge of the Dharma” was a title traditionally given to lay artists whose work was seen as a conduit for Buddhist values, even if they weren’t ordained.

Everything in Sokun’s life points to a man who chose freedom over hierarchy.

To the very end, Sokun continued to carefully record the oral tradition of the hitoyogiri—perhaps driven by a quiet urgency, a shadow of knowing… A dark intuition, maybe.

In the spring of 1625, he left his dwellings in Kyoto to accept an invitation from Lord Hori Naogori, in Murakami. But along the journey, his health began to falter. He never made it back.

Sokun died on April 10th, in the town of Murakami (Echigo). He was fifty-six years old.

Some say he had made preparations before leaving, as if he knew he might not return.

His school lived on for a time, carried forward by two of his disciples. Their writings have reached us.

Yamamoto Mantsu wrote of them, in 1813:

“The first Sokun (Ōmori) was a master. The one in the middle had many talents. The last… was not so gifted. But both were essential to the development of the hitoyogiri.”

The winds shifted.

The shakuhachi of the Fuke school —more modern, more adaptable— eventually eclipsed the hitoyogiri. Despite a few isolated efforts to revive it, the little flute slipped quietly into obscurity. By the early 20th century, it had vanished.

And yet…

You’ve guessed it: the story doesn’t end there.

A handful of passionate souls —musicians, researchers, the simply curious— set out on a quest. They reopened the manuscripts, dusted off the flutes, and gave breath once more to a forgotten instrument.

Thanks to their painstaking care, the voices of samurai, monks, hermits, and poets are beginning to resonate again.

Joy.

It is, perhaps, my dearest and wildest dream: to join that quiet revival, to play my heart out, and let centuries-old notes ripple through today’s soundscape.

I hope, with all my heart, to be part of that dance — to help rebuild, together, the legacy of these faraway voices.

Because to me, it’s perfectly clear: despite the passing of time, the song of the hitoyogiri has lost none of its strength— nor its wisdom.

Sources

And now —the sources. Because yes, as enchanted as I may be, I didn’t just dream all of this up. If you’re curious enough to dive in, I wish you courage and joy in the labyrinth. As for me, I’ll be celebrating the end of this article with a well-earned cup of green tea.

Kanpai!

#Japanese Encyclopedias & Biographical Dictionaries

• Kotobank entries for Ōmori Sōkun, referencing:
  • 日本人名大辞典』（講談社）
  • 朝日日本歴史人物事典
  • 世界大百科事典
• 世界大百科事典 第２版 (Sekai Dai-Hyakka Jiten)
  • Entries on 尺八 and 節切 with references to Sōkun’s craftsmanship and court service

#Primary Historical Manuscripts (Referenced in Research)

• 短笛秘伝譜 (Tanteki Hidenfu), dated 1608, attributed to Ōmori Sōkun, Held at 宮城道雄記念館 (Miyagi Michio Memorial Museum)
• 宗左流尺八手数并唱歌目録 Sōsa-ryū repertoire catalog (c. 1624)
  • Preserved at 東京芸術大学附属図書館 (Tokyo University of the Arts)
• 尺八秘伝録 / 尺八手数目録 / 尺八相伝集 Supplementary mokuroku manuscripts, Held in collections such as 陽明文庫 (Yōmei Bunko) and 富士信庵文庫 (Fushin’an)

#Academic Articles & Musicological Research

• Mabuchi Usaburō 馬淵卯三郎 – Article on 17th-century hitoyogiri repertoire and two-tiered structure, Published in 音楽芸術論集（大阪芸術大学）
• 加藤いつみ (Kato Itsumi) Studies on early Edo-period hitoyogiri performance and notation, Published in 名古屋文理大学紀要
• 上田良三 (Ueda Ryōzō) Research on Sōkun and Sōkū in 尺八史研究 (Shakuhachi history publications)

#Museums and Libraries

• The Metropolitan Museum of Art (New York) Holds a hitoyogiri flute attributed to Ōmori Sōkun
• Cleveland Museum of Art / Museum of Fine Arts, Boston Preserve historical examples of lacquered hitoyogiri flutes
• 東京芸術大学附属図書館 Hosts original mokuroku and notation books attributed to Sōkun

#Early Printed Works & Books Referenced

• 糸竹初心集(Shichiku Shoshin-shū) Published in 1664 by 中村宗三 (Nakamura Sōsan / Sōza)
• 尺八の歴史(The History of the Shakuhachi) by 上原稔, Overview of lineage from Sōsa to Sōkun
• 邦楽百年史 by 山田抄太郎 Historical documentation of traditional music and flute traditions

#Specialist Websites, Blogs & Online Research

• Hon-on.com by Nick Bellando, Shin Sosa Ryu school. About hitoyogiri playing, making and old style shakuhachi
• Suichiku Hōgo (水竹芳語) by Kunimi Masashi, Blog series deeply analyzing Sōkun’s manuscripts, lineage, and teachings
• komuso.com Resource on shakuhachi and komusō history, with a profile on Ōmori Sōkun
• Biglobe Ne.jp (盲人文化史年表) Timeline entries confirming the publication of Shichiku Shoshin-shū in 1664 by Nakamura Sōsan

#Supplemental Historical References

• 尺八読本(Shakuhachi Dokuhon) by 小泉文夫, Includes Sōkun’s place in the shakuhachi lineage
• 朝日日本歴史人物事典 Standard biographical reference used in modern scholarship