Tsukimi: Japan’s “Forgotten” Moon Celebration

Out of all Japanese seasonal events, tsukimi is unfortunately one of the most forgotten. Sure, it isn’t a national holiday, but even non-public holidays like summer festivals or the infamous fried chicken Christmas get more attention. Even within the “-viewing” category, tsukimi (moon-viewing) is nowhere near as well-known as its spring counterpart, hanami (cherry blossom-viewing).

According to 2024 data from the Hakuhodo Institute of Life and Living, only 8.1% of people in Japan said they did something for tsukimi that year, compared to 12.4% who attended a Halloween event.

Tsukimi can be celebrated any night, but it usually refers to the fifteenth night of the eighth month of the lunar calendar, which falls on October 6th in 2025, when the bright full moon appears near the autumn equinox. However, no one seems to be going out of their way to plan this seasonal celebration in Japan.

It is not insignificant. Search for a moon emoji and alongside actual moons, you’ll find one with white balls and a husk (🎑). They are tsukimi dango, meant to be eaten while watching the moon, with silver grass, for decorating the house. So most people in Japan know of it, in theory, but it’s not often practiced.

For many Japanese youths, tsukimi season is synonymous with McDonald’s Tsukimi Burger. We often talk about how wild it is that KFC became part of Japan’s Christmas traditions, yet arguably, McDonald’s Tsukimi Burger has become the sole “event” marker for this seasonal celebration. Why is that, and what else can we do for tsukimi?

Left: Emoji depicting Tsukimi / Right: Sukiyaki Tsukimi Burger 2025 from McDonald’s Japan

Counterparts in Neighboring Asian Cultures

Globally, moon-related events in this season are perhaps more often associated with other East Asian cultures. Often called the Mid-Autumn Festival, a direct translation of the Chinese Zhongqiujie (中秋節), this celebration is also related to the Korean Peninsula’s Chuseok (秋夕), Vietnam’s Tet Trung Thu (節中秋), and others, all held around the 15th day of the 8th month of the Chinese lunisolar calendar. Throughout history, many parts of Asia and beyond absorbed significant cultural elements from China, so it’s no surprise that this event became a shared tradition across the region.

In English, this full moon is often called the harvest moon, a term with roots in Native American traditions. It marks the full moon around the autumn harvest in many parts of the world, so lunar calendar cycles, animistic moon-worship and agricultural celebrations naturally came together. In many cultures across the Sinosphere, the Mid-Autumn Festival holds a significance comparable to the Lunar New Year. In the Korean Peninsula, it’s arguably the most important traditional holiday, often referred to as “Korean Thanksgiving.” While there are many variations, the festival is generally tied to the autumn harvest.

Japanese tsukimi (月見) is also part of this shared moon-related tradition. However, the name itself simply suggests a gathering to enjoy the moon—tsuki (moon) and mi (view)—and that alone marks the main difference in how the event is understood.

Why It’s Different from Mid-Autumn Festivals

Tsukimi is quite different in significance from the original Chinese Mid-Autumn Festival, and that difference can be traced back to how it was imported.

For example, Chuseok is believed to have originated when the Silla Kingdom (57 BC–935 AD) ruled a large part of the Korean Peninsula. The country was a direct tributary state to China, receiving customs and trends more directly. Japan, separated by the ocean and without this political link, often received Chinese traditions indirectly, sometimes via the Korean Peninsula. By the time they reached Japan, many elements, including tsukimi, were diluted or transformed.

Another important factor was class. Tsukimi we know it today, is thought to have started during the Heian period (794–1185 AD) as a time of flourishing aristocratic court culture. Unlike later samurai-governed eras, the peace of the Heian period allowed literature and the arts to thrive, particularly among noble women. Though the aristocracy was a small minority, history textbooks often portray this as an age of elegant pastimes, nobles spending their days writing poetry in their courtyards.

It was in this context that tsukimi was born alongside hanami. It was often an elegant picnic in their beautifully kept gardens while reading each other their poems. Some even took boats onto the water to enjoy the moon and its reflection with food and drink.

Hence, the focus of this event was appreciating the moon with food, drink and poetry, much like hanami, in a very posh way. The agricultural or harvest-related aspects central to other versions were arguably lost in translation, filtered through elite circles far removed from farming life. Harvest symbols remain, like silver grass resembling rice plants to wish for a plentiful crop, but they are not as central to the celebration as they are to neighboring cultures.

Tsukimi culture arguably peaked in the Heian period, but in the Edo period (1603–1868), characterized by samurai governance, a thriving merchant economy and vibrant popular culture, tsukimi evolved into public nightlife event, complete with outdoor taro hot pots. Tsukimi dango also appeared around this time, making the tradition more accessible to commoners. But even then, it was seen as an evening entertainment rather than a purely agricultural festival.

The viewing aspect is so central to tsukimi that many historical literary references describe it without a fixed date, simply as the custom of enjoying the moon outdoors with a drink. If the weather didn’t cooperate, some regions practiced tsukimachi (moon waiting), postponing the gathering. There’s also the custom of celebrating the 13th night in the 9th lunar month, and in some cases, people simply gathered whenever they thought the moon was particularly beautiful, even outside of autumn.

Today, tsukimi generally refers to that specific day in autumn, with the full moon often said to be the brightest and most beautiful of the year. While it is big, that’s just because it’s a full moon; scientifically speaking, it’s not necessarily the largest or brightest full moon of the year, which depends on more complex astronomical factors. More likely, its appeal comes from the combination of cooler, less humid, clearer nights after summer in Japan and the cultural excuse for an elegant nighttime picnic, shaped in part by “trendy” Chinese influence of its time.

How to Celebrate Tsukimi

The beauty of tsukimi is that you can enjoy the moon in your own way. If you want to try it the Heian way, channel your inner Hikaru Genji: sit on the open-air hallway that rims a courtyard like a cloister, watching the moon with your love interest. Not many homes have courtyards today, but until fairly recently in the Showa era, many traditional houses had engawa, a covered corridor that runs around the outside perimeter of a building. Many depictions of tsukimi in media show it on an engawa. If you’re lucky enough to have one, use it.

If not, terraces, parks, riversides and any open-air spot will do. In cities, bright lights and tall buildings can block the view, so some prior research helps. Japan even has many lists of famous moon-viewing spots. For instance, the “Japan’s Three Famous Moon-Viewing Locations” include Daikaku-ji Osawa Pond in Kyoto, Sarusawa Pond in Nara and Ishiyama-dera Temple in Shiga. Some noble residences and historical buildings were designed with moon-viewing in mind. It could be ponds for reflections or structures named kangetsudai (moon-viewing platform) or geppa-ro (moon-wave tower) and so on. Ginkaku-ji, for example, has several features specifically for enjoying the moon, including white sand gardens to reflect moonlight. Visiting these places is a great idea, especially in Kyoto. Many Japanese gardens, including those in Tokyo, now hold night events for tsukimi. You can also check the modern list of “Japan’s 100 Famous Moon Spots,” which includes places like Roppongi Hills.

Now that you know where to go, what are you supposed to do? If poetry isn’t your thing, simply focus on enjoying the company of loved ones with a drink and some food. Supermarkets sell tsukimi dango during the season, though not as widely as other seasonal treats. Any round mochi or similar sweet works. You can even buy Chinese mooncakes or Korean songpyeon in certain shops for a more international experience.

It doesn’t have to be traditional. McDonald’s Tsukimi Burger is a great example of a modern twist. Launched in 1991 as a seasonal fall menu item, it’s been sold every September–October since. But McDonald’s didn’t invent the concept: in Japan, dishes with eggs have long been called “tsukimi-style” because the yolk resembles a full moon and the whites resemble clouds. Tsukimi soba and tsukimi udon are just two examples. Today, most major chains in Japan, from Marugame Udon to Subway and Denny’s have tsukimi menus.

Some might say it’s sad that a centuries-old tradition has been reduced to fast food marketing. I see a silver lining: the act of moon-viewing has adapted to modern life. My only suggestion is to bring back the actual viewing, take your burger outside and look up at the moon.

Tsukimi in the Modern Day

Modern life has changed how we value the moon. In a city full of neon, its subtle beauty is easy to overlook. Hiratsuka Raicho, a pioneer of modern feminism in Japan, wrote in the 1911 issue of the feminist magazine Seito: “In the beginning, woman was the sun, an authentic person. Now she is the moon, a wan and sickly moon, dependent on another, reflecting another’s brilliance.”

「元始、女性は實に太陽であつた。眞正の人であつた。今、女性は月である。他に依つて生き、他の光によつて輝く、病人のやうな蒼白い顔の月である。」

— 平塚らいてう

Meeting on Women’s Rights in Tokyo, July 18, 1920, with prominent Japanese feminist figures. Hiratsuka Raichō is seated at the far right (Photo: Bain Collection, Library of Congress)

Her metaphor critiques patriarchal society by pointing out that the moon is not self-luminous like the sun. Brilliantly put. Yet, setting the metaphor aside, there’s beauty in the moon itself, reflecting the light of the hidden sun with an orphic glow.

There’s also a famous anecdote from the Meiji period (1868–1912) about novelist Natsume Soseki. While teaching English, he supposedly suggested translating “I love you” as “Tsuki ga kirei desu ne (The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?).” Whether or not he actually said it is unclear, but the story survives because it captures the difficulty of intercultural translation.

Left: Soseki Natsume, September 1921 (Photo: The University Art Museum, Tokyo University of the Arts) / Right: Edo-Tokyo Open Air Architectural Museum

Why the moon? Here is my analysis. If the moon is out, it’s late at night and you wouldn’t be with just anyone, at least back in those days. The existence of the moon is mundane, so pointing it out contextualizes that moment. It is a reminder to appreciate what has become an everyday sight, just like the person you are talking to. Its light isn’t enough to illuminate the whole night, but it’s enough to see the person before you—a way of saying: you are the one in my sight tonight.

In the land of the rising sun, the powerful, bright sun may be, literally, the star, but in a culture that treasures subtlety, the moon is deeply appreciated. The idiom kacho fugetsu, flower, bird, wind, moon, captures the beauty of nature, and the moon is a key part of it. Yet that subtlety is also why tsukimi risks being forgotten. The moon’s glow is overpowered by city lights. And as Hiratsuka’s metaphor hinted, in modern life, it is all about how much you can shine among others. Subtlety can be forgotten.

To me, tsukimi is a nod to tradition but also an appreciation of things that aren’t overt. It’s a moment to notice something so quotidian, up there every night. It is also a way to think about history, a way to feel connected to neighboring Asian cultures. It’s a poetic excuse to sit outside at night with your partner, family, or friends. All the more reason to do tsukimi this year.