This year’s Spring has been a different sort of blooming.
As I’m coming to the end of my gap year, I’ve discovered many things about myself: my capacity to work, to live, to struggle, to dream … the list could go on.
There is no way I could have imagined this year turning out the way it did, but I’m well aware of each little thing that sprouted, that sustained, or that withered and died along the way.
The High Park cherry blossoms blooming is always a spectacular event in Toronto. On one hand, the overwhelming beauty of the trees blooming in clusters is indescribable, and on the other hand, the ephemeral blip of a lifespan these flowers have make them both profound and quite precious.
It’s not surprising, that people are so enamoured with sakura.
Temporality is a quality that forces us to recognize our own beginnings and ends.
When we try, as much as possible, to forget that very few things last forever (if any), we actually rob our current experiences of their full power.
I think this gap year has taken on a similar quality to a cherry blossom viewing. I find myself walking through things that have happened, through my moments of blooming and all its subsequent shedding, with a strong sense of bliss and an incredible sense of awe.
What do my minute experiences as a small-potato freelancer have anything to do with the universe? Not much maybe.
And yet, I can’t help but imagine that not only have I walked into the lives of hundreds of other blooming trees, from different walks and backgrounds, I’ve also been a bloom for others – both overhead and underfoot.
Wouldn’t it be a marvellous accomplishment to be beauty that envelopes others, just by living?