My timing was perfect, even if the venue was not how I imagined. How can two cities be so different but share something so different as to make them like sisters in a family? I had no doubt that it was the cherry blossoms that created the illusion before me: an illusion of something Japanese, in such an American place as New York City. Today was the annual Sakura Matsuri or cherry blossom festival at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden, where more than 200 cherry trees were in full bloom. I remembered the Japanese because of the cherry trees.
On this bright spring day
Ah, with an ever-eager heart
The flowers are falling…
Ki no Tomonori
japanese poet waka
What could be more joyful than this moment, when all the Japanese cherry blossoms or Sakura were full of pale pink and white blossoms? I could see the delicate blossoms falling to the ground even before they withered, as if someone had shaken the cherry trees and thrown the petals into the air. The scent of cherries wafted on the cool breeze from the garden, mingling like a symphony with the laughter of people posing under, next to, or in front of the cherry trees.
The glow of the cherry blossoms
Its scent, always fresh with each passing year,
Thus man ages, eternally.
Ki no Tomonori
japanese poet waka
Like any tourist, he admired cherry blossoms for their aesthetic value, unaware that the sakura symbolized something deeper for the Japanese. Falling leaves or flowers are a metaphor for death in Buddhism. That’s because the Japanese compared the short life of a cherry blossom to the life of a samurai or warrior who was fully prepared to sacrifice his life for the sake of his master. I thought the samurai was more like a Christian martyr who was fully prepared to sacrifice his life for the sake of his faith in Jesus.
thousands of past things
They bring to my mind
These cherry blossoms!
BashÅ Matsuo
japanese haiku poet
A few days ago, we were at the Senso-ji Temple, in Asakusa, Tokyo, Japan, where I noticed the cherry blossoms inside the courtyard of the famous Buddhist Temple. Our good friend Yachiyo explained a bit about the cherry and Buddhism.
“Those are not real anymore but are made of plastic,” he said. “They’re there year-round so people can hang their prayer requests under the trees. We don’t have a Mass like you. We don’t worship a God like you.”
Yes, I noticed several sheets of paper (with characters) hanging under the shade of the cherry trees. It was something even I could relate to. The scene reminded me of how Jews inserted prayer requests between the bricks of the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem. Even Catholics have prayer requests through lit candles or written paper that is burned after praying.
However, from the Buddhist perspective, the joyful tree is a deity and each cherry blossom petal is a person who sacrifices for a certain mission or ideal. It is as simple as the flower will wither, the warrior will die, and the world will vanish.
The rain was pouring down as I sat eating our bento lunch under a large tent. Surrounded by cherry trees, I understood how people see the world from the perspective of their own faith, but regardless of faith, I felt humanity’s connection to nature and to a higher power on high. Yes, immortality was never intended for man on earth, but how beautiful it is to know that we have a purpose to strive for and, like Buddhists, we can live well right now with eternal spring in our hearts.
This year forever
It’s all sauce to me now-
Spring is coming.
issa
japanese haiku poet