by Lucy Dickens
She then explains the next steps in Japanese, but slowly, and pointing to the parts of the print-out that she’s referring to. She tells us that although we can make our own unique ikebana, there are certain skills that should be followed in order for the arrangement, which should end up looking almost like a simple but beautiful work of art, to be representative of the elements.
It’s flower-picking time. We should all take whatever we feel drawn to from the collection, but a variety of flowers, branches and stems of varying lengths should be collected.
Jackpot! I’ve always loved pussy willow so when I spy some long branches with pink dangling little blobs instead of grey ones I know my arrangement is going to be perfection.
‘Japanese pussy willow, nice,’ says the American girl, holding a few irises as she moves down the line.
I pick up some simple green leaves and a couple of daffodils to go with my branches, and head back to my spot, where I stand and flex my foot. Looking at my collection, though, I don’t quite see how this is all going to come together to look like a work of art.
Turning my pot over absentmindedly in my hand as I wait for the others to come back to their places, my mind rolls back to Benny. He’ll be okay … right? I go to take my phone out of my pocket again for another quick check, and –
‘Oh!’ I cry, as my stupid butter fingers let the pot slip from my hand, the ceramic cracking in half when it hits the tatami-mat flooring. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I say to Mio. ‘Gomen-nasai,’ my memory finds the formal way of apologising just in time. ‘I was distracted.’
Mio looks unfazed, and comes to take the broken dish from my hands, wrapping it carefully in a square of silk and putting it on the windowsill.
‘Gomen-nasai,’ I say again.
She smiles at me and shrugs. ‘Wabi-sabi.’
‘Wa-bi-sa-bi?’ I repeat.
Mio nods. ‘Wabi-sabi.’
I’m going to need to look that up. I pick up my pencil and write on the side of the print-out the hiragana characters of what I think she’s saying, to make sure I’m getting it right. わ び さ び, I write. Wa-bi-sa-bi.
She nods again and gets me another pot.
If I had to guess, I assume it maybe means something akin to ‘shit happens’? But I will look it up as soon as I can.
My new pot is larger, a low stone cylinder (less breakable?) and cool to touch, but I wrap my hands around it tightly nonetheless and sit down on the floor in front of my foliage.
Apparently, we’re making moribana-style arrangements today, which means we’re clustering our flowers in these shallow bowls but with three distinct stems of different lengths to represent heaven (the longy), man (the middley), and earth (the shorty).
First we have to pour water in the bottom of our dish, then put in a thing which looks like the head of a paddle hairbrush, but if I’m reading the pictures correctly it’s to stick our flowers into.
Next, I need to choose which of my three pink pussy-willow stems are going to be the big tall heaven one, the cute little earth one, and the man one. A little part of me feels miffed we’re referring to it as ‘man’ but then I decide I’ll make this for Benny, so it’s okay.
Mio walks around the room helping us cut out stems to the appropriate lengths and stick them into the hairbrush thing once we’ve considered the best angles and the type of look we want to give our ikebana.
More than once, despite the silly mistake I made earlier, I look at my phone and when I finally see a message from Mara, I excuse myself to visit the toilet.
At Benny’s, everything fine, my sister writes, oh she of few words.
Is he still upset? Are you staying? I type back, hoping she hasn’t already left.
She replies immediately. I’ve taken him out to a 24-hour cafe for some food and a chat, and yes, I’m going to stay with him for a few days.
Then she adds, He says hi ☺
I exhale, the tension in my shoulders, the shake in my hands I hadn’t even noticed was there, subsiding.
Say hi from me. Thank you.
Of course. We’ll be fine xx
I have a quick wee, because I might as well make the most of it, and then head back into the room to continue my arrangement, which looks quite pretty from afar when I walk back in, its pink-droplet branches tall and proud.
Okay, no more phone, no more being distracted and rude. Knowing my brother is in the safest hands, I refocus my mind.
By the time we finish our ikebana, I’m feeling quite pleased with mine. Not in comparison to everyone else’s. In comparison to everyone else’s mine looks like a three-year-old jammed some sticks into a pile of leaves. But I like it. However, I think I need to succumb to the fact that my life’s purpose is perhaps not to be a florist. I’m sure I could learn to be a little better at it, to create beautiful artistic centrepieces like the ones around me, but it’s also okay to be happy with my straggledy pink stick sculpture exactly as it is.
I take another bath that afternoon, wallowing for a long time in the water, cementing the memory so that when I’m home and can’t take baths in the middle of the day any more I can cast my mind back to this moment.
What am I going to do when I get home? Really, I need to decide this.
But first, since it’s finally a decent hour in the morning back in the UK, I send Mara another text checking in.
Everything is fine, she says. I’ll tell you if it isn’t. Focus on making your own decisions and stop getting sidelined by other people’s.
The next day, my last full day at the temple, I’m completely unwound. The serene silences, the warm baths, the light, healthy food, the early mornings and early nights and the wonderful Nissokan meditations in front of the evening sun are unfurling me like I was a tightly wound fern.
I’m even walking around with the same slow, chilled pace as the other guests, and after breakfast I head to the small library on the second floor of the main building where I spend a while dipping in and out of books on the history of Japan, anything I can find written in English.
Wabi-sabi.
You remember way back in Kyoto, at the Otowa Waterfall within the Kiyomizu-dera Temple? I drank from one of the streams, but it took me a while to pick which one? Well the one I chose was ‘school’, because I figured that while I was out here I was going to be using Japan, and learning about Japan, to learn about myself. I guess my wish was along the lines of ‘I hope I can learn what I need to know’.
I think about that now, as I drink in morsels from these books, a snippet here and a paragraph there, and the meaning of the phrase that Mio, the teacher, my sensei, said to me after I broke the pot becomes clear.
Wabi-sabi seems like a hard thing to define, and the more I read the more I feel I’m just scratching the surface. But essentially what I’m getting is this: Life isn’t perfect, it’s actually quite unpredictable, but that’s not only acceptable – it should be celebrated. So, as tricky as it might seem, it’s about enjoying the way things are and not worrying about how they should be. There’s also a lot of discussion around accepting the transient nature of life and finding beauty in things even if they don’t last. I’m not sure how this relates to my broken pot yet, but that becomes clear a short while later.
Back in my room there is a tap on my shoji door, and when I open it, there’s the friendly monk. He bows to me, and I bow back.
‘Is it time for dinner already?’ I ask, thinking that the day can’t have drifted by that quickly. Perhaps I fell asleep while I lay on my futon listening to the gentle rain soundscape outside the window.
Sidenote: I have a new appreciation for rain. I might not say that back in England if I’m waiting for a bus and everything’s drenched and my bag’s let in the water and my sandwich is soaked and it’s not even 8am yet, but here in the hills of Japan I’m finding it quite tranquil.
The monk shakes his head. ‘This is from Mio-san, your ikebana sensei,’ he says, and he hands me a cloth-wrapped gift. ‘She says it is yours, a souvenir of
wabi-sabi.’
He bows and walks away, and I slide the door closed behind him.
Opening the cloth, I gasp at what’s inside. It’s the dish I broke yesterday, the shallow, pale-green pot I dropped on the ground. Only now it’s whole again, fixed together with gold resin, a stripe of beauty that celebrates the line of the break, the imperfection, rather than considering it broken. It’s so much lovelier and more unique than before.
I’m searching my soul with the sunset on my face. This is my final chance at Nissokan meditation while I’m here at the temple and I want to make it count, sinking into the silence, the only sound my breath coming in and drifting out.
I was getting the hang of this now, and the monk did say that this type of meditation – gazing towards the setting sun – could be done anytime and anywhere, so maybe it will be something I’ll take home with me.
I flitter my eyes open for a moment, paying no attention to the fifteen or twenty other people dotted at personal-space-respecting distances around the vast room, and only looking forward, watching the sky. It’s cloudy this evening, the rain still coming down, though not hard. The sun breaks through on the horizon, streaming light towards us, and painting the edges of each cloud a deep pinkish orange.
My eyes close again, and I go back to welcoming the silence.
A noise cuts through the peace somewhere elsewhere in the monastery. I try to ignore it until I hear it: my name, clear as the 6am prayer bell.
‘Something something something Charlotte? She’s staying here.’
For a second I think it’s Benny, that he really got on a plane and came here, but before I’d even opened my eyes and turned to look at the door behind me, I knew.
Who would rock up to a Buddhist monastery, still in serene silence, and start yabbering? Who is the one person I can always rely on to pick the worst possible timing for any situation?
Chapter 18
What is happening?
What are you doing here, now?
Seriously … what?
‘Is she in here?’ the voice gets louder and then there he is, Matt, in the doorway of the meditation room, grinning. I stare at him. Did I drop off to sleep? I must have, this has to be a dream.
Matt. My Matt. Is here.
‘Hello!’ he bellows, and starts striding across the room towards me.
I stand as quick as I can while still a bit hobbly, grabbing the shoulder of a nearby monk for balance. ‘Sorry,’ I whisper but he just looks up at me like this is the least of my worries. ‘Shhhh,’ I hiss to Matt, as he picks his way between the other guests and the monks, saying ‘Sorry, oops, ’scuse me, that looks uncomfortable.’
He reaches me and sticks his arms out. ‘Hi, Charlie.’ One of the monks does a discreet cough, and I realise I’m still holding his shoulder. ‘Sorry. Sorry for all of this. What the hell is going on?’ I ask Matt.
He answers by launching into the chorus of Justin Bieber’s ‘Sorry’ and even the monks look embarrassed to be there.
‘Shut up, shut up, shut up, this a silent meditation.’ I hiss. ‘This is a monastery. This is not Britain’s Got Talent. Why the fuck are you here?’
‘I came to win you back. I’m sorry for everything. Will you marry me again?’ And he gets down on one knee, holding out the engagement ring I gave back to him a month ago.
I look down at him, in front of me, my Matt. Those familiar eyes, that face I’ve touched a hundred thousand times, the hair I’ve run my hands through and the lips I’ve kissed over and over again. He was my whole world, or at least, he occupied the biggest space within my world. But now … the world seems bigger.
‘Get up,’ I say quietly.
‘Huh?’
‘Get up, we can’t talk in here.’
‘Are you going to say yes?’ asks one of the other guests and his wife shoves him. The monk beside me shakes his head just a little, a small sigh escaping.
‘You are, aren’t you?’ asks Matt, completely unaware of his own inappropriateness. And suddenly I feel really mad.
I push him towards the door, apologising to everybody on my way out.
‘What’s going on?’ he asks, trying to hold my hand, which I shake off. At the door I grab a pair of the sandals for both me and Matt and I march us outside into the fine rain. I don’t stop until I reach the monastery gate where I give a quick bow, make Matt do the same, and then step onto the deserted road outside the temple grounds.
‘You have no respect,’ I declare, facing him.
He looks blindsided. ‘No respect for what?’
‘For the temple, the culture, you can’t just barge into a place like that and start shouting. And demanding things and putting unrealistic expectations on other people. It just proves you have no respect at all for any of it. You have no respect for me.’
‘I came all the way to Japan for you, to sweep you off your feet.’
‘I don’t want you here.’ My voice cracks because I realise it’s true. Many times on this trip I’ve wished Matt was by my side, that we could be pointing out things to each other, laughing together, doing everything our honeymoon trip promised. But things have changed. I, finally, have changed.
He pushes his wet hair out of his face, vulnerable and confused. ‘I just wanted to make a grand gesture for you, show you I mean it.’
‘I don’t like grand gestures.’
‘Yes, you do.’
‘No, I don’t. I like being given a choice and, and I like making my own decisions and not having someone else make them for me.’
He pauses and looks up and down the road, at the rain pattering on the trees, at the crimson monastery gate behind us. ‘You really don’t want me here?’
‘I don’t even understand why you’re here.’
‘I’ve been watching your Instagram stuff over the past month and with every video I’ve … well … you’ve just become more relaxed and beautiful and I missed you.’ His voice quietens and his breathing slows. ‘I realised you were getting further away from me each day and I wanted to win you back.’
‘And bring me home? That sounds a little controlling.’
‘You know that’s not what I mean,’ Matt protests, sadness and confusion on his face. He really thought he was doing the right thing this time, didn’t he? ‘I just realised how much I still loved you. I saw your video saying you were staying at this temple for a few days and I jumped on the next plane. I’ve not slept for forty-eight hours.’
‘How does Katie feel about you coming here?’ Oh come on, we were all thinking it.
He blushes a little and tries to hide it from me. ‘That’s all finished. Wild oats are sown, yay …’
Ouch. I knew it was happening, of course I did, but still – ouch. Even when it’s put in such a pathetic way. I turn my face to the sky, my eyes closed, and I breathe in … and out … and in … and out … ‘I appreciate the effort but we can’t go back to how things were, Matt.’
‘It can be better than it was, for both of us. Look, this is what I was talking about when I suggested the break – we’ve both had some new experiences and now, well, nothing needs to change, it’s just that now we’ll have some new things to talk about.’
‘I really don’t want to have a big chinwag about your new experiences with Katie. Please don’t talk about this whole thing like you did me a favour.’
He shrugs. ‘Well …’
‘What?’
‘In a way I think I did do you a favour.’
Oh, I’m going to kill him, right here in front of this temple and then seek refuge.
Matt continues, more softly this time. ‘Charlie, I know that the way I did what I did was … I know it was bad. It must have been really awful for you, I know that, and I’m sorry, but I don’t think you wanted to get married either. I think you wanted an out.’
‘Why on earth do you think that?’
‘It’s not like you fought for us. At the first sign of me showing doubt you shut the whole thing down. Yes, I wanted a break, but I
always wanted to marry you. There was no doubt in my mind. You were the one who called it off.’
I leaned back against the wall, soaking my back but without caring. Was he right? Did I push him away too easily, dismissing his own fears too quickly? I stand like that for a long time, and Matt comes and stands next to me. This wasn’t what either of us expected from today.
Eventually I say, ‘You didn’t say to me, “I’m scared, what if we regret never being with other people?” You said you wanted to be with other people. That’s very different, Matt, and that’s not the type of love I wanted to fight for. Do you understand that?’
He nods, slowly, and he looks like he’s about to cry. ‘But now that’s behind us, can we move forward? Can we try again?’ He waits for my reply, but I just stand there, rain on my skin. ‘I can put the ring away for a bit if you like.’
‘It’s not about the ring, though,’ I say, my voice barely audible.
Matt steps a little closer into my space. ‘We can pretend this whole month never happened. I miss you, Charlie. I love you.’
Matt loves me, and I know deep down that I still love him.
We could go back to being Charlotte and Matt. I could get it all back, everything I thought I’d lost. It could all go back to our happily ever after, all it needs is one little decision.
Chapter 19
We shared some lifetime
I don’t regret its broken
lovely memory
I reach out and touch his face with my hand, his skin damp from the rain but familiar, the shape of his jawline just how I remembered it.
‘I need a minute,’ I whisper.
‘Sure,’ he replies, and before I can pull my hand away he kisses my palm and then pulls me closer to him where we stand for a moment, lips close, tears mixing with the rain. After so many years, the feeling of his face so close to mine still makes my heartbeat quicken.
He’s kissed someone else since me.
