Sensei and Sensibility

ROUNDNESS IN THE FLOWERS

On a Friday morning two weeks ago, my friend, Ariel, and I met at my home for flower practice. Each of us purchased flowers which we agreed to share. Ariel brought sunflowers and alstroemeria, all in yellows. I selected white flowers, lilies, ornithagolums (Star-of-Bethlehem), freesia, and long grass.

When we were ready to begin, Ariel sounded a chime and we listened in silence for two minutes. (Ariel quotes a teacher of hers who says, "The temple bell stops but the sound keeps coming from the flowers.") Wanting to listen for that sound, we agreed to work in silence.

When we finished, two "signs of life" were apparent in our arrangements: the spiral in Ariel's and the circle in mine. 

Roundness was apparent in my arrangement from the start.

I chose a fish-bowl container, inserted circles of green grass inside the container and created more circles outside with individual strands of grass. All of this was a matter of listening. I had no conscious idea when we began.

Living with these flowers for a week was a joy. The circle, symbol of wholeness and unity, is a source of inspiration to me. I see circles--or possibilities for them--all about me. (The white of the flowers, a vivid reminder that all color has its origin in the brightness of white, was a pleasure as well.)

 

CONTINUITY AND CHANGE IN A FLOWER ARRANGEMENT

Only the green parts, the rhododendron leaves and the spider-like stems, remain from last week's arrangement. The flowers wilted, shed petals and dried up. That being the case, I removed everything that was spend and went to the corner flower stall for replacements.

Replication of last week's flowers wasn't my intention. I wanted something different.

In this arrangement, mass is supplied with the rhododendron leaves. The fine traceries of green stems add interest, provide volume and create depth--as they did last week. The emergence of the tiny leaves is the compelling part now.

The green and black color combination, with highlights provided by the white chrysanthemums, is a big change from last week's color. I like the starkness, the simplicity.

The flowers fade, the leaves come out and the wheel goes round. This is flowers as presence.

Note: When I first attempted to post this blog, weeks ago now, I discovered I had been graced with "upgrades" I didn't know how to use. For some people, this would be sweet news. Not me, however!

YIN AND YANG IN FLOWERS & CONTAINERS

After a lengthy hiatus, I got back to Ikebana class this week. I was delighted to be in that setting again with the expectation only that I should create something beautiful. The selection of flowers was splendid.

Without haste, I acquainted myself with the plant materials. There were old favorites along with some new ones. I knew I would choose the unknown. The other choices weren’t so easy or so obvious.

Finally, bowing to the power of pink, I chose peonies and rhododendron for mass and color, and Iberia, commonly called candytuft, for line and more color. I used the spidery-like stems with tiny white seed pods to provide volume and create depth. These hints of lines in the air also provided contrast with the more substantial lines of the candytuft and peony. The yin and yang of it appealed to me.

In class, I chose a container of white and green with a hint of pink. The effect was soft and gentle, a harmoniously integrated whole.

At home, in a black container, the color contrast of the flowers was more apparent, the impact more dramatic. The yin and yang of this, too, appealed to me.

HONORING PRINCIPLES AND CHANGE IN ARRANGEMENT OF FLOWERS

In celebration of Ikebana International New York’s 50th and Sogetsu School’s 80th anniversaries, more than 300 people gathered at Columbia University on Wednesday for a luncheon and demonstration by Master Instructor Toshiyuki Ohki, Sogetsu School, Tokyo. Thursday some of my classmates attended a class with Mr. Ohki. Friday we gathered in our usual place to arrange flowers, drink tea and share conversation.

I was struck by the message of change my colleagues had heard from Mr. Ohki from the Sogetsu School in Tokyo. I had seen something of this at the Columbia event, too. “Blooming Flowers for Tomorrow—Sogetsu Renaissance” was the title of materials handed out. “Lithe sensitivity plus plants adapts freely to the changing time and environment,” was the (translated) message. The message was amplified with thirteen pictures of knock-your-socks off arrangement/installations, proof positive Sogetsu Ikebana “completes today’s diverse spaces with the beauty of vegetation.”

At the CAM conference speaker David Zach challenged us to think about and make distinctions between fads, trends and principles. “Play with fads,” he said. “Work with trends and live by principles.”

Fads come and go. They can be fun. They can “rock the boat.” Trends, on the other hand, are longer lasting. And principles? They don’t change. To know how to interact with each requires one identify them correctly.

We need to know what our principles are—and the trends and fads, too. I was a little surprised to find myself sharing this idea in the flower class! But there it was, and the Japanese woman was nodding her head in agreement.

It was as if a fresh breeze had blown in on my arrangement yesterday. It took two tries. With the first, I had no mass and used more flowers. In the second try, I created mass with the leaves of the tulips, provided a long, dramatic line with two branches (one cherry and the other scotch broom, both greatly pruned) that reinforced the vertical of the vase, reduced the number of tulips and thinned out the baby’s breath so it was congruent with its name.

The principles? Mass, line and color.

WISDOM FROM AN EARLIER TIME

Inspirational quotations were located on the native granite stones of the Grove Park Inn, several in and around the fireplaces. I found them so compelling I asked for a copy.

Be not simply good—be good for something. Thoreau

Take things always by their smooth handle. Thomas Jefferson

Every book is a quotation; every house is a quotation out of all forest and mines and stone quarries and every man is a quotation from all his ancestors. Emerson

It is a sure sign of rain when it is black all around and pouring out in the middle. Indian Saying

The gem cannot be polished without friction or man perfected without trials. Dutch Proverb

Burdens come lighter when cheerfully bourne. Ovid

I recommend contemplation of some of these—along with a sit in a rocking chair.

ROCKING CHAIR COMFORT

Last week I spent five glorious days in Asheville. I went for a conference, Conversations Among Masters (CAM). Though there are several topics about which I want to post, the first will be about the surround of The Grove Park Inn.

The Inn was built in 1913. (It was enrolled on the National Register of Historic Places in 1973.) It has been added to, renovated and restored over the years. Always the finest of the past has been retained. This is immediately apparent when one enters the historic hotel.

Floor-to-ceiling fireplaces large enough to burn 12-foot logs, one on either side of the entry into the great hall, make a stunning statement. Boulders from the nearby mountain were brought here for the building itself and for the fireplaces—both of which are large enough for people to stand upright in them.

The natural world is close here—and it is comforting. Adding to the comfort are rocking chairs, found in abundance all over the place—on the entry porch, in front of the fireplaces, along the hallways looking out toward Sunset Mountain and in the Palm Court, a portion of the oldest part of the hotel. (I “tried out” lots of them!)

One day I walked into a session room filled with rocking chairs—one for every participant. This delighted me—and it set me to thinking about my associations with rocking.

A fetus in the womb is subject to gentle rocking. We never get over it. Rocking is a universal soothing motion that spans across every culture. Most find relaxation and comfort in the rocking motion, whether in a cradle, a rocker, a swing or a boat lapped by waves. Some Orthodox Jews rock when they pray.

When I googled “rocking chairs,” I was surprised to discover the ergonomics of this special chair. Even when not rocking, rockers rock backwards until the sitter’s center of gravity is met thus granting the ergonomic benefit that the occupant is kept at a very unstressed position and angle. Who knew?

SOUTH PACIFIC ENCHANTS ALL OVER AGAIN

We had a 50th reunion Friday night—South Pacific and a sold-out audience at the Vivian Beaumont. It was sweet.

My friend and I told the woman next to us that we might have to sing along. “Only if you are Mary Martin or Enzio Pinza,” she said, effectively putting a stop to any nonsense.

I know all the songs with the exception of “My Girl Back Home.” Not only did those songs relate to a history that touched my family (a brother served in the navy in the Pacific and one uncle was a seabee, a builder) but also we sang them in school vocal groups. All were unabashedly romantic and they informed our dreams. Most hoped for their own “enchanted evening” and “seeing a stranger across a crowded room.” Some still do.

The NY premiere of South Pacific was in Aril 1949, a simpler time. There was agreement then about fundamental values: belief in self-improvement, conviction about the can-do attitude and the courage and willingness to fight for the collective good. South Pacific was described then as “lovely, warm, fresh and beautiful.” It is still!

Friday night the biggest laugh in the entire production came when Lt. Buzz Adams observed that Ensign Nellie Forbush couldn't possibly be in love with Emile de Becque because "he is an older man. He is forty-four."

HARBINGERS OF SPRING: ORCHIDS, ROBINS AND FLIP FLOPS

One of the harbingers of spring is the orchid show at the New York Botanical Garden in the Bronx. Thursday Sybil and I made our annual visit. We were not disappointed.

Our first view of the orchids was this one in the entry to the Enid A. Haupt Conservatory. Here were orchids en masse. Like the overture to an opera, this was the introduction, a foretaste of what was to come.

The next orchids, in the Palms and Rain Forest Galleries, were “more overture,” this about mood. The orchids were clustered together, framed—with lots of green all around.

The “stage action and the drama” hit us in the Seasonal Exhibition Galleries. This was the part of the show that celebrates Singapore, one of the great orchid centers of the world. A two-storied, Southeast Asian type pagoda covered with orchids was the first thing to greet our eyes. This architectural feature was followed with planting arches, reminiscent of many found in formal gardens in Singapore. These were covered with an abundance of orchids in a riot of color. In terms of impact, this was glorious—a knockout, and the end of the plot.

I saw my first robins of the season at the botanical garden Thursday. Today, Sunday, I saw my first flip flops on the streets of Manhattan. Orchids, robins, flip flops—all reinforce a change we can feel in the air. That first spring day is something we all anticipate.

THE FLOWERS "SING OUT" THEIR TRUTH

Language, written and spoken, is a symbol system. Math is a sysmbol system. Music is a symbol system, and flowers, too, are a symbol system.

Others in my Ikebana class this week looked at my arrangement of blooming rosemary, chrysanthemums and tulips and said, "Oh, it is so spring-like!"

The flowers do sing out their truth: I's here, it's here, that happy time of year! It IS spring!

FIRST CROCUSES

The Conservatory Garden, East side, 104th-106th Streets, is called one of Central Park’s best-kept secrets. Last Saturday a friend and I walked there and soaked up the wonderfully warming sun.

I was eager to go, in part, because I started my collection of spring 2008 “firsts” several weeks ago—the first snowdrops, the first daffodil and more. More firsts were on my mind. I was not disappointed. There in the midst of the snowdrops I saw them—my first purple crocuses.

Christine Klocek-Lim’s poem, “First Crocus,” which I discovered later, added to the remembered pleasure. In particular, I savored her verbs and the pictures they created.

The flowers did crack open the earth’s brown shell. I can’t claim to have heard the crocuses chatter, ignore, peer and die—laughing and tossing their heads in the bitter air, but Lin does make me wonder what I missed!

First Crocus

This morning, flowers cracked open
the earth’s brown shell. Spring
leaves spilled everywhere
though winter’s stern hand
could come down again at any moment
to break the delicate yolk
of a new bloom.

The crocus don’t see this as they chatter
beneath a cheerful petal of spring sky.
They ignore the air’s brisk arm
as they peer at their fresh stems, step
on the leftover fragments
of old leaves.

When the night wind twists them to pieces,
they will die like this: laughing,
tossing their brilliant heads
in the bitter air.