Savoring the Cherry Blossoms

By now the situation in Japan has a familiar ring, doesn’t it? The images of destruction, the bulletins about the nuclear plant’s difficulties, the reports of the clean-up efforts and the shaky amateur videos of the wall of water inundating the coastline—we’ve seen these images again and again, their power blunted by repetition.

I have been heartsick by the news from Japan over the past days, in part because I have a personal connection to that country thanks to a children’s book I wrote a number of years ago, Sweet Corn and Sushi (The Story of Iowa and Yamanshi). On my two trips to Japan I was treated so warmly and kindly, and when I hear the news of what has happened there, I feel a strong sense of kinship with those who are suffering.

What I find myself thinking about these days, more than anything, are Japanese cherry blossoms. I was fortunate to be in Japan last year during the height of cherry blossom season, a brief period when a gauzy shroud of pink is thrown over public parks and private gardens. While there I learned that cherry blossoms are more than just flowers to the Japanese.  They are excuse to celebrate, as families and friends meet under the flowering trees to drink, eat and socialize in gatherings called hanami.  They are also a symbol for the transitory nature of life, a poignant reminder of both how beautiful and how brief existence is. The delicate cherry blossom, here today and fluttering to the ground tomorrow, is a reminder that we are to live deeply in each moment, recognizing that it will never pass our way again.

I remember walking in wonder under blooming cherry trees in Kyoto, the petals falling like snow.  At times they were so lovely they seemed almost otherworldly, particularly along the Philosopher’s Path, a canal lined with hundreds of trees.

After seeing the images of destruction in Japan, I have a much better sense for why the Japanese recognize that cherry blossoms are much more than simply flowers. This country perched on the edge of tectonic plates, vulnerable to natural disasters of multiple varieties, has over and over again experienced sudden, terrible losses. It is to the Japanese people’s great credit that in the midst of that they have learned to value beauty as it unfolds, knowing that it will not last.

This year, the Japanese will soon gather once again in parks and gardens to savor the cherry blossoms. And this year, more than ever, I expect many will be able to see their beauty with eyes made clearer by tears.