How tranquil this place would be, if no one but I knew of it. The call of small children break the spiritual silence of the garden. Dusk approaches on this warm fall day, adding just a touch of chill tomy skin. It seems to be perfect. The words, from my mind, jaded by the restlessness of the world, cannot do this place justice. So I rely on my eyes and ears and hope to form a mental memory that my camera can attempt to support.

As Wordsworth says,

"...we are laid asleep
In body, and become a living soul;
While with an eye made quiet by the power
Of harmony, and the deep power of joy,
We see into the life of things."

I pause, relax, and breathe in the power of harmony and the deep power of joy, and try to see into the life of things.

The moon has emerged, tinged golden in the dusken skies. Its reflection in the water is one of ultimate universal beauty, just as Isamu Taniguchi had dreamed. Beneath its reflection, koi swim gracefully, silently. The water seems so friendly, guiding, compared to the mad floods that caused so much destruction only a few weeks ago. This is a garden meant to touched, experienced, explored, though respectfully. It is nothing like the sterile rose gardens with which it shares a border.

I long to be closer to the water, to the koi, who swim so peacefully below it. I long to be a fish. I step upon a waterborne path, and the fish, surprised by my incongruous location, swim away. I have no desire to chase them away, but I lack the ability to tell them of my intentions.

I reawake into reality as two young boys run through. Entranced as I am by the flowing stream, their curious eyes drop, gaze at the stream, and they learn from seeing, experiencing. The garden teaches them lessons that no book could convey. As though on an adventure, they run, run, exploring the paths that creep and turn through the garden. I long to follow their lead. I am envious. Children have that prerogative, to run whereever they go. I, having reached that grand, ripe old age of 22, do not. When did my childhood end? I don't feel it has, yet I know that there are many childlike things that I can no longer do.

What kind of person might I have grown to be, had I had a garden like this at my disposal for my childhood adventures? Perhaps one more at peace with myself and the world. Water is such a holy creature. It speaks to me in its infinity. A young girl throws a pellet of food into the water. As the koi surface to devour it, they form a ripple which spreads to eternity. I long to remove my shoes, to walk barefoot over the paths over the water.

As I cross the moon bridge, I feel holy, pure. I wash my hands in the tin dripping pool that calls me, water like music, calling my name. I feel blessed to be here on this lovely evening, to see the moon reflect underneath the bridge. Just as the sun provides life-energy to this garden during the day, so must the moon provide at night. Such life grows from the moon's light.

Lotus flowers shoot up, as from soil. Their leaves float on the water as though it were glass. Dead blossoms fade away to make room for new blossoms and new life.

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