Glorious Circularity

I traveled in early April to Japan with one primary purpose. I was eager to document the Sakura blossoms that arrive each spring and are widely—and wildly—celebrated in the country. Although these glorious blossoms appear at about the same time each year, the Sakura care not for calendars and the exact timing is variable. I knew I would be lucky if my chances to go worked out.

Good fortune shined, largely because I had the opportunity to be patient. Not immediately, but quite suddenly, the blossoms burst open. I was stunned. Everywhere I looked there were pink-tinged clouds. The flower blossoms had arrived on their own time, when the weather had sufficiently warmed the fertile buds.

I knew while making this and other images that their glorious beauty was temporary. As quickly as they arrive, the blossoms flee and with a wind, they can be gone within hours. Because of this impermanence, people in Japan and visitors from all around the world are enormously exuberant about the blossoms. There is near chaos caused by all the foot traffic, the crowds that gather, the people eager to join the festivities. There is also deep irony in the experience that is made clear when awe at witnessing these tiny manifestations of biological life clinging to graceful branches casts a crowd of observers into total stillness and silence.

This split-level experience of tumult and tranquility is ripe for self-recognition. It reminds us we, too, are transient and our lives are a mix of vibrant activity and gentle pauses. We cling to life as the blossoms cling. We live knowing we will eventually fall, be blown away, becoming a spiritual carpet that feeds the cycle of life, repeating its glory over and over throughout eternity.