One way to "insulate" the large living room windows is to tape bubble wrap over them. It's totally normal in these parts. Once I taped the giant plastic rolls over my windows, they stopped letting in light, so I never opened the drapes anymore. Not that there was any sun to let in anyway. It was already dark when I left school.
Then, one day in February, the sun was out. I opened the drapes of my bedroom windows and discovered a wonderful surprise - my backyard bushes had bloomed into open-petaled red flowers. They popped up everywhere. They bloomed even in the coldest, most adverse weather conditions of the year.
"In the language of flowers, red means determination." - Trigun |
I was negative about many of my experiences in Japan because I was cold - missing sunlight, activity, simple walks - without knowing that was what I was missing. Every winter feels like it will never end; every spring feels like the first one.
Then the sun came out. I listened to the 7th graders practice the piano in the music room, and it moved me out of time. I've lowered the amount of layers I wore from three sweaters to two. One Japanese teacher said they heard the first songbird that morning. I still wear my winter coat inside my apartment, but now I don't have to blast the heater to get it to warm up.
I look at my backyard, abloom with winter flowers, and feel hope. Spring is coming - the time of new growth from the seeds you planted last autumn. I planted gratefulness. I'm pruning away the weeds of complaint and negativity. My garden won't be perfect; it's the tenderness to accept it as it is that's real compassion, the ultimate cultivation.
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