As dew leaves the cobweb lightly
Threaded with stars,
Scattering jewels on the fence
And the pasture bars;
As dawn leaves the dry grass bright
And the tangled weeds
Bearing a rainbow gem
On each of their seeds;
So has your love, my lover,
Fresh as the dawn,
Made me a shining road
To travel on,
Set every common sight
Of tree or stone
Delicately alight
For me alone.
― Sara Teasdale
I see now that the path I choose through the maze makes me what I am. I am not only a thing, but also a way of being—one of many ways—and knowing the paths I have followed and the ones left to take will help me understand what I am becoming.
― Daniel Keyes, Flowers for Algernon
Image © Raniel Diaz with CCLicense
“We are like water, aren’t we? We can be fluid, flexible when we have to be. But strong and destructive, too.” And something else, I think to myself. Like water, we mostly follow the path of least resistance.
―Wally Lamb, We Are Water
Johnson’s Shut-Ins
Continue down the path that makes you feel fulfilled. Those who continue on an unrewarding path for the sake of only monetary gain are displaying a lack of trust in life. Continuing in such a mistrustful way will only bring impoverishment. Following one’s heart, continuing on one’s divine path can bring abundance.
―Hope Bradford, Beneficial Law of Attraction: The Manifestation Teachings
Dematerialization
© Hartwig HKD with CCLicense
If you desire the path of sincerity, develop a love for obscurity. Flee from the clatter and clinks of fame. Be like the roots of a tree; it keeps the tree upright and gives it life, but it itself is hidden underneath the earth and eyes cannot see it.
Great Wall of China near Jinshanling
© Severin.stalder with CCLicense
Transitioning from busy exterior lives to our private lives is difficult. How do we keep a quiet place for ourselves?
Kingston Lacy Japanese Tea Garden, Dorset, Great Britain
© Ray Beer with CCLicense
The Japanese tea ceremony, cha-no-yu, and tea garden, roji, evolved from traditions and tea from China. The Buddhist monk Eichū was the first person acknowledged to celebrate the ceremony in Japan during the 9th Century, after returning from a trip to the mainland, where tea had been known for many centuries. It was seen as an enlightened and civilized practice and developed deep spiritual significance.
The word roji has its origin in characters that mean “path”, “ground” and “dewiness”. It came to be used as a term for the area that lies between the main house and the chashitsu, the room or house where the tea ceremony is performed. Guests do not only pass through the roji, but use the area to prepare their minds, spirits and bodies before the host invites them inside the tea house. Thus the roji is not only a physical path, but a spiritual one.
Yugao-tei Chashitsu in Kanazawa, Japan
© OpenHistory with CCLicense
Green Gulch Zen Temple, San Francisco, CA, USA
© kafka4prez with CCLicense
Over time, the roji became a garden. Ideally, it provides an elegant and yet simple scene, a backdrop to a ceremony of solemnity and beauty. The roji includes a tsukubai, or ablution basin, where visitors wash away the dust of the outside world by performing a ritual hand washing and rinsing of the mouth.
Tsukubai at Ryōan-ji temple in Kyoto, Japan. The inscription reads, “I only know plenty.”
© Michael Maggs with CCLicense
Tsukubai at Tofukuji (Tofuku Temple), Kyoto
© Totorin with CCLicense
Tsukubai at Rengeji, Kyoto
© KWR with CCLicense
A tōrō, or lantern, stands in the garden. Stepping stones, tob-ishi, lead to the tea house, which is often behind a wicket gate. The stones are laid out in a simple and naturalistic manner, sometimes alternating right and left to facilitate walking.
Tōrō at Shukkei-en Garden, Hiroshima
Public Domain Image
Tea House and Roji at the Adachi Museum of Art, Yasugi, Japan, featuring a lovely path of tob-ishi, or floating stones and simple gate.
© Bjoernord with CCLicense
Some roji feature ginshanada, areas of gravel or white sand that, among other things, symbolize openness to experience and the changeable nature of life. These “empty” spaces may be raked into patterns made during contemplation or left pristine. Typically the tob-ishi path will cross through the ginshanada. The raked patterns often recall water ripples, just as the ginshanada are reminiscent of lakes or streams. This style is known as karesansui, or rock gardening, but many westerners refer to it as Zen gardening, pointing to its origins in Buddhist meditative practice.
Harima ankokuji, Kato, Japan
© Jnn with CCLicense
Roji at Zuiho-in Temple, Kyoto, founded 1535 by Otomo Sorin, who later converted to Christianity.
Public Domain Image
Garden plantings are simple and emphasize form and texture rather than color, most often eschewing flowers for evergreens, mosses and grasses. Ume, plum trees, and maples may be included and do provide some color. As opposed to many western gardens, where plants are trimmed to produce blooms, plants here are cultivated for healthy foliage and beautiful shape. The goal is to achieve a sculpted and yet natural look that does not draw attention to itself, but encourages the contemplation of good things.
Pureland Japanese Garden, North Clifton, UK
© Richard Croft with CCLicense
When I enter a space like the roji, my mind rests from “being productive” or flowering. I become aware of the invaluable beauty of health and enjoy simply being present. I can also appreciate the work that must be done to keep the space orderly and functional. We don’t all have space or time for physical gardens, but we do require some open space in ourselves for quietness and preparation in order to keep our inner selves from being suffocated. In that sense we are all gardeners. What is it that you cultivate in your life?
Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.
