Japan, a wounded beauty
I gardened today to ease my worry and sorrow about Japan’s tragedy. It didn’t help. When I saw the moss I have been cultivating, I remembered the moss gardens in Kyoto that brought such calm.
When I used my Japanese tools, I ached, worrying about my almost Japanese cousin Hiromi, who brought them to me as gifts. I think about her parents who still giggle, waking Hiromi in the morning with their merriment. Chris and I were supposed to travel to Japan on April 3 for Hiromi’s wedding to my cousin. Hiromi, though 20 years younger than I, feels like my older sister; she, like Japanese gardens, provides beauty, grounding, and nurturing to all she touches. For me she symbolizes Japan. I cannot fathom, nor do I want to imagine such a beautiful country and people seeing their world destroyed.
