I'm in an upscale restaurant in New York. I'm not hungry. I'm there because the people are there and I want to be with them. I scan the menu and it's all weird crap. I order the red Japanese berries without knowing what I will get. Sweet, sour, tart, whatever.
It is a large party spanning all ages. We are all given the menus at the same time but we're served right side first. A long time elapses before my side is served. By that time the first side is already finishing.
The restaurant and the people first served are finished and ready to settle up and break up. But I'm only getting started on my berries.
Damn, these things are delicious. Why aren't they famous? I am really enjoying these berries. But the right side of our table is already standing, pushing in their chairs and putting on their jackets. The bill is paid and the staff is already clearing their side of the table.
For a high class place, this is really no class. I'm well within my rights to make this an issue. I want to spend more time with these people but I'm being rushed out.
I resent being rushed. I refuse to scarf my berries. They're too good to shove in my mouth. I go, "Look, just because that guy has three auditions and his schedule is packed doesn't mean I have to rush through my meal." I give them a hard time about pushing me out.
The young man was the center of attention over there on that side of the table. He was rushed for other reasons, he packed this into his schedule, and he had to leave immediately. But not before talking to another group in the restaurant who were interested in him for some reason.
My dad was in the first group. He appeared at my side. He told me go along with the program, to not make a fuss. Like it or not the dinner is over. He said, "Here take these."
He had ordered the same berries. They were his dessert but he didn't want them.
His mass of berry branches doubled the amount of berries I must eat on the go.
"Dad, these berries are the best! Don't you want some?"
"Nah. I'm full. I've had enough of these berries from before. I know what they are."
Standing up as the wait staff cleared the table and our party took their long goodbyes, I popped the berries into my mouth amazed about how delicious they are and thinking, man, these Japanese people sure do have a lot of hidden treasures. They are worth whatever whoever paid for these things. I loved them.
My party is dispersed and I'm walking out with my Dad. On the way out I said to one of the staff, "Here's your sticks."
"What do I want those for?"
"You can probably use them in one of your ikebana arrangements."
The guy shrugs and goes, "Thanks."
They don't have any ikebana arrangements. They're not a Japanese restaurant.
Six sharp raps like a marble dropped onto a concrete floor woke me up.
3 comments:
What did you most appreciate or enjoy about your life in Japan and Japanese culture when you lived there?
What losses did you feel when it was time to follow your dad's orders and leave for the next base/country?
What did you take in while you were there and take away with you when you left that has since become part of you?
Interesting that your dad ordered (wanted?) the berries as his dessert (dessert=the reward or highlight that follows a meal) and then dismissed/denied that desire by saying he didn't want them while serving up what could be his life mantra and explanation of why and how your life was impacted by his in telling you to "go along with the program, to not make a fuss."
What blessing(s) did you receive from your dad? And receive through him as a result of your travels with him? What did you see him deny or dismiss as unnecessary for himself while recognizing its value to you?
For me, the berries bring to mind creative genius, freedom within structure, or in their redness, sensory awareness. They could also represent emotion, or passion as the wonderous fuel that runs the true self.
Dreams are invitations from the subconscious, the part of us where feelings, thoughts, perceptions we haven't been able to openly acknowledge or express remain hidden, waiting to be recognized, processed and integrated.
There are as many ways to approach and take them in as berries on a stick.
Closer to the bone than appreciation or blessing are the two strong emotions of love and resentment that turn up as statements, with the question that could also be asked of the self, When have I felt that before? Was I able to express it then?
Did you like how the dream ended? If you were to dream on and imagine a different ending what might it include?
Do the leftover sticks present another invitation? Who takes them home? What could be added? What altar might they grace?
Ikebana (生け花, 活け花, make flowers alive) is the Japanese art of flower arrangement also known as Kadō (華道, "way of flowers"). The tradition dates back to the 7th century when floral offerings were made at altars. Kadō is counted as one of the three classical Japanese arts of refinement, along with kōdō for incense appreciation and chadō for tea and the tea ceremony.
All three are deep sensory experiences, and when I think back on the 10 days I spent in Japan in the early 80's what comes most strongly to mind is the quiet beauty and excellence I experienced there. The people weren't warm or memorable, but the loveliness I picked up through my senses was.
I have only one thought: why did the people who were served first get up to leave so fast? Isn't the pleasure of eating out, well, part of it, sitting around and schmoozing after the meal?
Depends on what was being served as the meal. If it was food for the soul--not everyone wants to stick around for that!
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