Early Blooms of Sengan-en Garden
Where early blooms taught me the answer was always me.
A while back, I wrote a piece titled When the Void is the Loudest.
As the title proclaims, the voids experienced through the lens of grief were “loud, apparent, and jarring,” much like a bare plot that was once filled with blooms.
Since writing that piece, I’ve had the pleasure of glimpsing what a full bloom could feel and look like in the very places that had been bare. While the blooms didn’t quite survive as I had hoped, I learned something invaluable: just because the trees are bare doesn’t mean they’re dead, and there’s a season for everything.
Back in February, as I walked through Sengan-en Garden in Kagoshima, Japan, in awe of the early blooms, I came to appreciate the bareness of the trees. I witnessed and acknowledged the kind of effort, energy, and nutrients it takes to bloom and flourish.
My voids are still here; some plots remain bare, but what feels different at this juncture is that I’m blossoming in ways I never thought possible. And as I continue to blossom, I’m seeing how that’s becoming far more significant than the voids others have left behind. With this blossoming, I can only imagine how much more fulfilling it will be when those who, one day, fill the voids I can’t fill myself, arrive.
The answer was never you. The answer was always…me.
“The most exciting, challenging, and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself.” Carrie Bradshaw