strolling through a garden

strolling through a garden

cloaked in snow, feeling the space

between dark and light 

Gentle flurries of snow continue to fall the day after the blizzard, individual flakes rising up in spirals near the house. The scenery reminds me of the snowy month I spent in Japan. In the little town of Oshino at the foot of Fujisan, Kaneyama Hotel has a lovely strolling garden with tea rooms perched on the banks of a mountain stream, Kaneyama, which feeds into the larger Hirayama near Sensei's house. 
          As we wander through the snow-covered garden, I am intrigued by the rope tipis placed over each black pine to protect it from the heavy snow, and the woven trunk guards to protect the tree from insects -- such careful attention to the welfare of every object, animate and inanimate. A group of stones in the central pond look like they are soaking in a hot springs. A waterfall cascades over boulders bordered by shiny holly into a little basin where a bamboo ladle beckons you to bend down, wash your hands and cleanse your mouth with the clear mountain water. Everything looks completely natural, yet it's all carefully arranged. 
          Sensei tells us that it is not just the arrangement of trees and stones and water that makes the Japanese garden, but ma, the space between objects. Each gap creates an interval of time between thoughts and feelings that defines the experience, then releases it. "Ichi go ichi e," she says, "one time, one meeting." This phrase is particularly significant for the tea ceremony. Every moment is unique and fleeting, so savor it and then continue on the path.