The heavy December rains were falling as I made my way in to work on a soggy Tuesday morning. I was bundled up for the weather as it is my only defense against the cold. I looked as if the sun would never burst through the clouds, but I was wrong.
Soon after lunch the sun did finally struggle to make a brilliant appearance. Off to the west the sun’s rays blasted though the clouds while the east was still gray with rain. The two opposites quietly inhabited the same space. This is when I found myself wandering through a peaceful temple’s garden gazing at the wondrous momiji (japanese maple). The colors were reaching their fulfillment as they ripened to hues of burgundy.
The momiji’s colors contrates with the yellow ginko leaves that carpeted the ground. I was able to steal a moment of stillness. A moment of just myself enveloped in their hues. The young children and their mothers no longer entered into my consciousness. I was at one with the hues. The hues were as silent as I hope my my soul could be.