What comes our way

‘What comes our way’ infuses calm. It is……….what happened and…….what may have happened anyway. It is gentle. It introduces a story and hopefully some images if the right miracles happen. It is me attempting to write another blog, not sure where to begin, certain it will come nonetheless….

Excursion

Heading out yesterday on an excursion curated by Cameron, we found ourselves at a large cemetery, the Heiwa Koen Cemetery, both a Peace Park and a graveyard. It is a beautiful, quiet space. Extensive and inviting, with tombs, shrines, statues and monuments spread across an undulating landscape. I was nervous to take photos, not sure of the protocol. So just stuck with the edifice below: Niji-no-toh, the rainbow tower, that produces a rainbow effect on the day of the spring and autumn equinoxes.

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Petals

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Outside our apartment. After pizza and gelato downtown. Not able to ignore the petals. Knowing, soon, they will be gone. And they will be missed.

Meditation

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Eyeing off these benches, since I first made their acquaintance some weeks ago. Clearly a church of sorts, beneath a beautiful tree, with a castle peering over, benevolent, at least for now. Today I took some poetry, a scarf, a timer. I sat on the third bench from the front, this side of the tree. I reminded myself of my self. Listened. Remembered. I kept my eyes closed, despite the commotion developing around me and my pew. Although, inevitably, the clatter and chatter seemed loud enough and intentional enough to warrant a peek. My need for deep attention was in conflict with the needs of the group buzzing about me who had in a short time placed cushions on the pews and set up many numbered flags about the park to commence a game which looked like something between golf and croquet (gateball perhaps?). I got up, humbly bowed and uttered ohayo gozaimasu to a small indifferent crowd.

Shopping

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It’s a delicate operation, dependent on the beer supplies. We both have baskets, but they get front heavy making for an interesting ride home. This is the easy part though. We are not always sure what we are purchasing. I have probably already told the story of the dried porcini rehydrating in our minestrone that tasted like dehydrated jelly fish and WAS! We do our research but sometimes it’s just “it’s the colour of fukujinzuke so let’s just buy it”. A few interesting things have been tried using this strategy.

Our new friends at Meijo Park at beer o’clock

Gilded beauties everywhere

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There are many bronze sculptures in our local area. I am often surprised to come across them. Some take centre stage, literally, but many are minding their own business on an incidental corner or around the back of a building in an overgrown patch of green. Some statues are very playful. Most are lovely actually. They stop me in my tracks. Like Fuefuki Boy (1967) and Cuillette (1865 Emile Antonine Bourdelle). Bourdelle has an impressive CV, student of Rodin, teacher of Matisse, and yet I almost missed Cuillette weaving magic with her hairdo. We were kicking stones through one of the Performing Arts areas near our place, all quiet except for a few dudes doing acrobatics on their sick bikes. And there they were, Cuillette and Fuefuki boy and the funny sculptured stones in the photograph below, creating a circle and a surprisingly comfortable seat or bed for a few moments of rest. I can’t wait for the local museums and galleries to open again. I’m excited to see what’s been sleeping in Nagoya during the state of emergency.

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Telephone boxes

Shirotori Garden

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Cam and I visited here some weeks ago. A peaceful place inviting a quiet gentle slow passage. Except. A woman. Beckoning. With gestures, Japanese language and a sense of urgency. Was something about to close? Imminently? The small gate she ushered us toward was alluring. What did it lead to? I felt, if I agreed (and I was in her tractor beam), I would be drawn into a fairy tale, and may just become part of some concoction of which required final seasoning of small toe from middle aged red haired Australian born woman (hardly exotic in these parts). She looked innocent enough. But her gesticulations, both physical and tonal, had me thinking she could be inviting Cam and I to our end, but………….a gate is a gate is a gate and once happened upon must be entered, especially if they bear stone paths, mossy banks, bamboo water features and creeks whispering over stones positioned by the gods the night before…….Hmmmm. I was hers. So, the place we came to, after entering through the gate, down the pebbled path and beyond the Japanese tea room was the cherry blossom tree you can see in the two photos above. The gate, the path and the generous spirited slightly-crazy woman, led us to The Tree. I stopped here for a bit. The Tree now had me. Perhaps She became the Tree? There was something about her, the tree, that’s for sure. I became quiet, still, my eyes welled, tears fell, was it her age, did she hold some secrets, the tree, was it her beauty, or the way she leaned over the creek, as though to massage the water with her wizened fingers. Did she speak? That mossy way trees speak? I’m not sure. I listened as best I could. The tears, my response.

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And this, Suikinkutsu, if you are able to read the words inscribed on the plaque in the photograph above you will see it is a “contrivance which make a strange beautiful sound by the echo of a drop falling from a little hole made on the bottom of the jug in the shape of the temple bell buried upside down into the earth…….”[as seen on the plaque in the second photograph]. I could not hear a single thing until I edged closer. Brought my good ear lower to the ground and heard something. And then heard more somethings. Goodness. A strange and beautiful sound indeed. I hope the audio recording I took and attempted to post on this blog can be heard by you too (the bells don’t sound immediately, you will have to persevere for at least 15 seconds to hear something other than the sound of water and crows and me fumbling with my iphone). Cameron is sitting in front of the suikinkutsu. I had to remove my ear from the ground to take the photograph.

Love Susan xx