light entwined with love
The Wagashi Diet
Dear Reader,
Have you been enjoying your summer thus far? Or whichever season that now belongs to your part of the world? I must admit, and I’m terribly sorry, that I have been slightly—or quite a lot actually—distracted as of late. It’s no excuse to be derelict in my weekly blog writing, I know, and I apologize profusely! Please forgive me. It’s just that, well, you see… ahem, have you ever been to Japan? Have you ever eaten a matcha parfait?! And not just any matcha parfait, but one in Kyoto, in Gion Kyoto? If you have, then perhaps you can excuse my weak-willed writing (or lack thereof) this past month and accept my humble apologies, knowing full well that there truly is nothing better on earth than eating an exquisite matcha partfait in Gion-Kyoto! And what’s more?! I have been altogether swept up by the Wagashi Diet!
All joking aside, the above sentiments are not entirely in jest! I do truly love wagashi, Japanese sweets, and appreciating them and the cultural milieu in which they are steeped actually can be a kind of satori, an enlightening experience! And I have indeed been eating more of a “wagashi diet” while visiting family and friends in Japan this summer than I would like to admit. Of course I ate many other kinds of delicious Japanese foods too: soba, tempura, sushi, takoyaki, somen, oden, yuba, namafu, udon, onigiri, dashimaki tamago, gomadofu, etc. to name a few… If for no other reason, visit Japan for the food. It is absolutely worth it.
To be even a little more serious and precise, matcha parfait is not wagashi, which should be defined as traditional Japanese sweets, but is rather a Japanese-style parfait. From where does the parfait originate?! I haven’t the slightest clue, but it is from the Japanese lens, a “Western dessert.” For convenience, I have rather erroneously and sacrilegiously lumped together all sweets in Japan as wagashi! 😱 True wagashi will be seasonal and is typically paired with a cup of tea or matcha (the tea which you can see to the right of my parfait). In the photo the round, purple, blue, and white ball on top of the parfait is the actual wagashi, whereas the rest are…. parfait ingredients? Is wagashi piled on top of a parfait still wagashi? That is a discussion for another time!
This particular purple, blue, and white wagashi sitting atop my parfait is designed after hydrangea flowers which blossom abundantly during the rainy season in June, and therefore the parfait I had was a seasonal speciality, in keeping with the true nature of wagashi. The hydrangea wagashi, its colors, textures, and flavors, together with matcha, invokes the soul of the flower. We experience delicate sweetness and slightly bitter green leaves; the cool, light breeze and sound of soft rain surrounds us. We sense the damp earth blossoming into a riot of purples and pinks, blues and greens, and yellows.
Four years ago, in the month of June, I wrote of following line:
When we dance the mountains sing inside us and we bloom into a riot of wild flowers.
After practicing dance in the Kyoto countryside with lush green mountains in view, I enjoyed eating hydrangea wagashi together with our small group. It was satori—we truly are the mountains, the wind and flowers, the soft falling rain. We sing, and we are sung.
Shall I forgo my “wagashi diet” in the name of good health? Perhaps not!😁
Wishing you respite from distraction and busyness. I wish you the abundant blessings of the season. I wish you beauty. May you have an appetite for it all.
Yours truly,
Michiru Adrienne
p.s. My blog posts will resume on a more-or-less weekly basis from now on. Thank you for reading!
i came here
i did not come here just to love you
i came here
to be love
together with you
to dance
and in one another
come home
breathlessly with these deep sighing waves
eternally and endlessly
like stars
i came here
to be together with you
in love
portal
this body
sacred
holy
a temple
something divine
divinity itself
its beating heart
portal
to the universe
yes, to the universe and beyond…
but most of all
a portal to
l o v e
let the doors wide open now
throw away the key
f l y
moonrise
in silence i am
on this full lotus sitting
the new moon rises
Once upon a long, long time ago when I was stretching and working out a lot, I discovered almost by accident that I could sit in the full lotus pose. Up until then I had managed a half lotus pose without too much difficulty, but that pretzel of a full lotus pose had always eluded me. And to be honest, I didn’t particularly have my heart set on sitting full lotus. Yoga was a form of cross-training for dance, not spiritual nor meditation practice, for me. But, have you ever sat in full-lotus?!
In full lotus, I instantly realized why it was the meditator’s pose of choice. I was stable, rooted, and still. Silence came naturally, like breathing, and all the world was unperturbed. From this rock-like seat, everything else was light. Eureka! I felt like shouting out loud! This is why the yogis work so hard for years twisting and turning, bending and coaxing their bodies into a pretzel—they can finally sit still!🤣
The value of stillness and silence deepens over time and with age, particularly when we struggle. And now, all these years later, my body craves full lotus. Not by accident, but with acute awareness. My heart is now set on its world of light, and of grace. Maybe it is not too late to rise anew, like the moon.
PINX
What are you? They ask.
A pink flower, i declare.
And darkness dancing
into light waves of seashore.
Jaguar’s soft skin, and heartbeat.
(tanka 5-7-5-7-7)
My cat passed away on March 28th, and on April 5th her ashes were returned to me in a small wooden urn engraved with unfurling flowers. When the man from the pet cremation company whose daughter’s name is Kimiko, close to but not Himiko, came to pick up my cat, I was told that her ashes would be returned sometime Monday through Friday, probably in the morning. Wednesday evening while still at work, I received a phone call from the man who, in his own words, was returning all the fur-babies back to their people. Albeit in ashes. Yes, I can be home later at night to receive my fur-baby’s ashes, I told him.
Cycling back to the house, I saw the bright and likely full moon, and thought to myself that it was just like Himichan to come back to me on a full moon. And she did. Back home I checked the internet and confirmed that yes indeed, it was a full moon night—and not just any full moon night either. It was the pink full moon!
My first name is written with the kanji 満 (michiru), but when it is combined with the kanji for moon月 like this 満月 it is read all together as “mangetsu” meaning, full moon. I have always loved the moon, particularly the full moon. The night before I was born, my mother heard Beethoven’s moonlight sonata playing even though the music was not actually playing anywhere. The first haiku in Japanese that I ever wrote describes the full moon whispering over the sea in spring.
Even so, I had never heard of the pink moon before! According to timeanddate.com, April’s full moon is called the “pink moon” due to the abundance of pink wildflowers blooming in spring! And it’s true, there are pink flowers blossoming everywhere. And I think about my fur-baby Himichan every time I see them.
When I was a little girl, I adamantly disliked the color pink for its association with girlishness. Therefore, strawberry ice cream was not my favorite flavor; and part of my decision to give up ballet for gymnastics was my distaste for pink tights and leotards. Very sensible, I know. But many years later as an adult, I reclaimed pink. The rebellion was over. On the contrary, embracing pink became the revolution; I like strawberry ice cream and I wear pink. The poem at the top of this page, written several years ago, is a womanifesto of sorts. I am pink—with edge. I am pinx.
That night, that night of the pink full moon, that night my Himichan’s ashes were returned to me. I cried. Bittersweet. Too much magic and much too beautiful. My heart flooded with gratitude and pink moonlight. I crave jaguar’s soft skin, and heartbeat.
I love you, Himichan, to the moon and back.
This too, came to me with its own magic and synchronicity.
🖤🌕🌸🐾💞
In Loving Memory
Himiko~chan🖤🐾
(June 20, 2004 ~ March 28, 2023)
In the summer of 2004, it must have been sometime in July, I went to the local farmers market and happened upon a man who had a cardboard box with two little kittens inside. One was the cutest girl-kitty, black and white with green eyes, and the other was the cutest boy-kitty, all grey with a little white spot on his chest. They were sister and brother, and moments later, my kitties. At home with my new little family, I thought about their names and was wondering, Kimiko? Himiko? What was the name of the ancient priestess-leader in Japan?? Himiko, not Kimiko. Okay. So she became my kitty Himiko.
Fast forward over eighteen and a half years later, and I call a pet cremation company after muttering to myself a million times, “You can do this, you can do this.” A man answers the phone and after a brief inquiry about pricing, procedure, etc. he asks me for my cat’s name. “Himiko” I reply, starting to cry. And then since it’s a Japanese name and I’m in the US, I start to spell it out for him but he stops me mid-sentence saying, “I know exactly how to spell Himiko—that’s my daughter’s name!” I start to explain that it’s Himiko, not Kimiko, being certain that his daughter would not be named Himiko, but the conversation moved on. The next day when he came to pick up my Himiko, I asked him about his daughter and he clarified that indeed, her name is Kimiko, not Himiko.
I share this story not only for its remarkable synchronicity, but also for how it exemplifies Himiko-chan’s magic. Her whole life was like that. She truly lived up to her name in both royalty and spirit. Himichan (her nickname) was friendly, feisty, intelligent, inquisitive, polite, caring and loving. She was my kitty-baby, my best friend, my travel companion, my heart, my kitty-soulmate. She was one tough kitty-cat and my shero—the one I still aspire to be when I grown up. 🖤🐾
“Death ends a life, but it does not end the relationship.”
Himichan will be in my heart forever and with me in spirit always.
catnap
Since March 4th, I’ve been focusing on my senior kitty who’s been with me forever (close to 19 years), and is now in need of intensive care. So we are taking a catnap together—from everything. From everything that is, except each other and sitting in the garden sunshine with chirping birds and the breeze.
I only know myself as her human.
Something will transpire, sometime and somehow, and some foreign future self unknown to me now, will resume weekly posts. In the meantime, perhaps I will share some old photos or stories of us… or perhaps just the silence.
Thank you for reading and I will be in touch again. 🐾🖤
forty seven
Photo: spiral galaxy NGC 1232, from European Southern Observatory
somewhere, some
forty seven layers down into the center
of earth
and somewhere, another
forty seven layers into the center
of the universe
we walk
hand in hand we walk
beneath the seabed
and along smoldering crevices
these ancient lungs breathing long rivers of fire
in the darkness
we walk on and on
all along these meandering trails
through tall fields of sunlight and pink wildflowers
we step into streams of cold crystal water
smooth around our ankles and cupped hands
and on top of these snow-covered mountain peaks
we walk
where the soaring blue sky is pierced
with song, and with long silver threads of one thousand swans
who like us, fly home
through layer after layer
on and on and into the jet black ink of night, we walk
holding hands here in this deep space brimming with bejeweled skies
we’re swirling and spiraling and dancing
we spin
we, spin and
we spin
our house of love
Michiru Adrienne 