Cutting Back

Dear Family and Friends,

In a way I suppose I could be called a plant freak. It is not that I know very much about them. But I do love them. And of course, I am concerned about global warming. Nowadays I watch many old homes being torn down, their gardens ripped up. They are then replaced with new structures, mostly all alike, all with parking lots up to the front door — and absolutely no greenery. It tears my heart to see this shift from traditional Japanese culture, which honored plants and took the time to make beautiful gardens. 

My own garden space could politely be called abundant or well used. But more realistically, a total mess. 

I do weed and cut back, fertilize at times, and change flowers by the season. I go outside every morning to greet my floral family and to receive its blessings in return. Those times of attunement to nature set the tone for the rest of my day.

A few years ago, a bird dropped seeds that became a small shoot. I was delighted and welcomed the new comer with great joy. With time, it grew and stretched toward the light, getting taller and wider with its spreading branches. It brought lovely shadows to my yard, which I also enjoyed. 

But the maintenance man was not happy with this adolescent member of my household. He pestered me last year about it. But I refused to let him cut it down. This year, however, he pleaded again. This time he reasoned that the branches stretched over into the next yard. 

Over the years, I have learned in order to live here in harmony, I must teeter between a combination of gentle firmness and flexibility. So, this year, I finally gave the go-ahead to cut down the sprawling teenager crowding its way into my teeny patch of earth.

Oba San arrived early, with his usual big, beautiful smile. 

He immediately set to work. I am curious about almost everything, so stayed around to watch the process. He knew exactly what to do and went about it with professional precision. It was impressive.

I wondered, though, if he minded me being there. I don’t think so since he jabbered away in Tohoku dialect, which I barely understood. But he and I always communicate perfectly. He talks, I smile. He talks some more, I nod to let him know I am listening. We do fine together.

I also thought of my 11-year old friend who wants to be a carpenter. He hangs out at neighbor’s (a carpenter) home, watching, asking questions, eager to learn. His mentor is very patient, letting Tatsuki stick around for as long as he likes. Sometimes he even lets Tatsuki try things out, giving careful guidance as they go along. Later Tatsuki goes home and practices all he learned. He is making good progress. And when I visit, he explains things to me like a mature adult. I always leave filled with hope for his future, and the world’s.

The very end of the tree-cutting project touched me very deeply. This time I understood exactly what Oba San said as he poured salt on the stump. “This is so it won’t grow back,” he explained. “But more importantly, it is to honor the Gods. Before and after any major change, we always bow in reverence to them.”

Even as many outer structures are being cut down and removed, Japan’s inner psyche remains very much intact. 

Love,

Anne