Sacred straw ropes, fortune slips, amulets, and the mizuhiki cords on gift envelopes. For the Japanese, tying is not merely a way of fastening. Sumo, which has its origins in Shinto ritual, is the same: wrestlers tie their topknots and their belts, and each day of bouts closes with musubi no ichiban, the final, “tying” bout. Tying is a sacred gesture that has accompanied both the turning points of life and the places of prayer.

At its root lies an ancient word, musuhi. Musu is the musu of moss growing over stone, the way life arises and grows of its own accord. Hi means spirit, an unseen power. People must have sensed that in the moment separate things are tied together, something sacred rises up.

The sanada-himo cord of the Ayamaki floor lamp is not tied merely for function, either. Tied with devoted care, it ends in a fan-shaped tassel that spreads wider toward its tip, one of the most auspicious forms of all, signifying a future that opens out.

The knot itself may be no more than a small finishing detail. Yet we have always found room in it for wishes. In the way a single cord is tied, function and prayer dwell together. Each time the lamp is lit, the tassel at its foot catches your eye, and each time, you remember that someone’s wish was tied there.