Won't you come and see
loneliness? Just one leaf
from the kiri tree
-Basho, 1692
Over the rainy weekend, I indulged in sad contentment. I went for long walks in the rain. I didn't really mind. I love the rain. I love the the smell of the air after a good rain shower, soupy and mossy as if new things are ready to unearth itself from the ground. I love the comfortable patter of it raindrops on my window sill especially in the evenings. It lulls me to sleep.
Change is in the air. I can feel it in me and around me, among the people in my heart. It's a different kind of change, too. It's not the sort that springs one into action. It's the sort the burrows in quiet. I think it will be okay. At least I hope so. I found a word for it: sabishisa. I came across it in a book I'm reading about elements of Japanese Desgin. In the book it is described as a state of emptiness, like being lost in a boundless sea of nothingness, a state of utter spiritual poverty in which having nothing we possess all.
Lately everything I knew to be true seem to have a way of turning itself on its head to give me a new view. In a strange way it is comforting. It makes life interesting. So dear reader, forgive me, indulge with me, if you can, in sad contentment for this time of sabishisa in my life.
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