Misogi

The word misogi originally comes from a Japanese Shinto practice. Japanese Shinto is a nature-based, ritual-centered spiritual tradition that honors the sacred presence in life, nature, ancestors, and the unseen world. It invites people to live with reverence, gratitude, purity, and harmony. 

Traditionally, misogi is a ritual of purification involving water: washing the body, entering cold water, or standing beneath a waterfall before approaching what is sacred. But misogi is not just about becoming clean on the outside.

Misogi is about releasing what has attached itself to us.

In Shinto thought, human beings can accumulate kegare, a kind of impurity, heaviness, or spiritual residue. Not impurity in the shame-based sense of “I am bad,” but impurity in the human sense of “I have been touched by life.”

Grief touches us. Fear touches us. Resentment touches us. Stress touches us. Other people’s opinions touch us. Old stories touch us. And after a while, we may begin to mistake what has attached to us for who we are.

Misogi reminds us that this residue does not have to remain upon on us forever.

You can be renewed. You can begin again. You can release the heaviness.

In the traditional ritual, water becomes the sacred element of release. A choice is made to cross a threshold into something new. It begins with: I am ready to let something go. That is the essence of misogi.

Purification. Release. Renewal. A return to your original aliveness.

For Christians, this is symbolized in baptism. A new beginning, new level of commitment, new identity. Stepping out of on old identity and into a new identity.

This may be why the modern use of the word misogi has become so compelling. In personal-growth circles, misogi is sometimes used to describe doing one brave, difficult, out-of-your-comfort-zone challenge each year. Something big enough to stretch your identity and introduce you to a larger version of yourself.

Sometimes, to expand the soul, we have to do something that interrupts our familiar identity. We have to do something that our afraid-self would not do.

Have the conversation. Take the trip. Start the business. Walk into the class. Sign up for the race. Tell the truth. Ask for help. Let yourself be seen. Let yourself be new at something. Let yourself be uncomfortable without calling it danger.

This is where bravery becomes a kind of purification.

With courage, we wash away the belief that we can’t handle hard things. We cleanse the story that we are too old, too late, too afraid, too inexperienced, too sensitive, too ordinary, or too stuck.

Imagine standing beneath the waterfall of your own courage and letting it remove the residue of “I can’t.”

This does not mean bravery has to be dramatic. Your misogi does not have to impress anyone. It does not have to be extreme. It does not have to hurt your body, exhaust your nervous system, or become another way to prove your worth. A true misogi should expand you, not punish you.

I’m embarking on my 2026 misogi this Fall, I will tell you more about it next week. But, this week, be thinking about what is calling you. What feels like it is pulling you into your soul’s expansion? 

We can step into it together.

Unsure, sorta brave, and ready to grow,