Garden of the Tranquil Mere Excerpt
Ted Fisher stood beside Abigail Bishop as she read a sign consisting of only black paint on a bare board. Ted knew that the brush strokes were oriental writing, but the only sense he could make of them was that they looked like pictures in a way.
"The sign says 'Garden of the Tranquil Mere,'" translated Abigail. "This is a replica of a traditional Japanese tea garden."
"Okay, I suspect that this is a silly question, but 'mere' what?" inquired Ted, almost afraid of the answer.
"Very funny, Ted," laughed Abigail. "Mere, like in pond!"
"Mere, huh?" nodded Ted. "Why didn't they just say Tranquil Pond?"
"I guess it's for the same reason people would rather live in Baton Rouge than Red Stick," smiled Abigail. "Many times the way a word sounds gives it more power than its literal meaning. Mere is poetic and, as a matter of fact, reminds me of a passage from a poem. I think part of it went something like this:
'So majestic of the cinnamon fronds be call'd;
Fern lovelier, within its meager crag
On moorland's lorn and windswept shore,
Nymphs arise
From ancient stream and shimmering Mere,
I sit alone and dream of old, forsaken love.'"
Ted stood staring at Abigail with a small smile and a dazed look.
Laughing, she exclaimed, "Okay, I know that 'deer in the headlights look' when I see it! Yes, nineteenth century poetry can be a bit wearisome, but those old poems contain gems if you have the patience to look for them."
"If you say so," chuckled Ted. "I admit I have lots of room for improvement. At home somewhere I have an old LP record that's entitled Great Moments in Music. There are recordings of about five minutes each of Bach, Beethoven, Mozart, Mendelssohn, Chopin, and so on. I personally like the abridged version of the 'Hall of the Mountain King,' by Grieg."
Abigail eyed Ted suspiciously for a moment, and then they both started laughing.
"Ted, indulge me, okay?" insisted Abigail. "I'd like to show you the beauty of this place. I happened by here yesterday and was very impressed. I've only seen two other tea gardens outside Japan with such great attention to detail."
"I'm enjoying this immensely already," confessed Ted truthfully. "I am your disciple. Lead on, my master," added Ted with a theatrical bow.
"Good!" proclaimed Abigail, smiling as she held Ted's arm close to her and led him through the simple, unfinished wooden gate. "Just call me Sensei."
Stepping beyond the gate was like passing through a portal into another world. The surrounding high stone walls blocked out the noise from the rest of the resort complex. The whole area within the walls had been excavated, creating a large bowl that appeared much larger than the space it occupied.
Rocks of various sizes and shapes were placed along the garden's slopes. Growing among the stones were small, carefully pruned ornamental trees and shrubs. Everything within the garden created a feeling of peace and harmony.
Birds flew in and out over the walls, often pausing for a quick drink at a shimmering pond near the center of the garden. Human ambition for order and design had successfully melded flora and earth to create an enclave with a quiet life force teeming at its core.
On the edge of the mere, facing out over the water, was a very small building. Were it not for the bright white paper panels inside a framework of unfinished wood, it might have been mistaken for a gardener's shed.
In this lush green secluded environment it was easy to forget the sparse vegetation and arid land surrounding the resort.
Just inside the gateway a moss-covered stone statue of Buddha sat atop a gurgling fountain. Abigail picked up a bamboo ladle hanging beside the fountain's basin and threw three scoops of water onto the statue, nourishing the emerald green moss. Then she returned the ladle to its hook.
As Ted walked beside Abigail he looked down and noticed the stark white gravel under his feet. The gravel had been combed into parallel wavy lines.
Abigail saw his glance and explained, "Ted, this walkway represents a river frozen in time. The swirling pattern combed into the stones seems to move and flow even though it's dry and lifeless."
Dry and lifeless? That sounds familiar, mused Ted, then commented, "It's a shame to walk on it."
"Yes, but change is unavoidable," remarked Abigail. "Your footsteps alter the pattern just like your path through life affects the existence of everyone around you.
"Places like these are of great importance. Everything enclosed within these walls is carefully designed to look natural and in a location harmonious with everything around it. Here you may humbly pursue an understanding of your inner self while observing and appreciating the wonders of nature."
"You speak as if this is a living thing," remarked Ted.
"Well, of course there's life all around us," nodded Abigail, "but, much like Native Americans view special holy places, this garden holds a spirit.
"All tea gardens take on their own personality and develop what the French call élan vital. Humans can design and maintain this environment, but nature has a creative force within it that provides for growth, change and adaptation to achieve the harmony we feel when we're here.
"See those little trees?" asked Abigail, pointing to a group growing from small gravel-filled pots. "They're called bonsai and are very old. Bonsai are a form of natural living sculpture. Some bonsai trees are hundreds of years old, but their shape is carefully and regularly pruned to maintain their beauty. Much of what we see here was directly imported from Japan. I'd be very surprised if there weren't Japanese koi in the pond, too."
"Really, Abigail, how do you know all this stuff?" asked Ted sincerely. "You read Japanese picture writing, know details about cultures on the other side of the world and have a rather obscure knowledge of poetry. I'm having a difficult time keeping up with you."
"Well, you'd never guess that I was an Army brat and the daughter of a staff sergeant," laughed Abigail. "We moved around a lot, and the countries and cultures where we were living fascinated me. I didn't have friends for very long, so I read a lot. Sometimes the available books that were in English were old and, as you say, obscure. Nineteenth century poetry was one that was rarely in high demand at the Army base library."
"It sounds like you acquired quite an education," grinned Ted.
"What we make of our life often depends on the available opportunities and how we choose to use them," replied Abigail. "Now remember, you agreed to let me be your guide."
"Okay, I'm game," smiled Ted. "Lead on, Macduff."
Abigail took Ted by the hand and explained many of the different flowers, shrubs and trees as they followed the winding path to the center of the garden.
"You can see within the garden that there are elements of both the Japanese Shinto and Zen Buddhist religions," Abigail pointed out. "The use of all natural unfinished wood construction is a Shinto concept, but the statues of Buddha sharing the same environment have nothing to do with Shintoism.
"The Japanese culture is full of paradoxes," explained Abigail. "A survey was once taken of the religions in Japan. Seventy percent said that they were Buddhist, forty percent said Shinto and thirty-five percent said Christian."
"Wait a moment, Abigail," remarked Ted, confused. "I'm not the greatest mathematician, but I do know that adds up to one hundred forty-five percent."
"Yes, it does," laughed Abigail. "Many people choose more than one religion. Like they view much of life, the Japanese are content to have as many contingencies as possible covered to ensure salvation.
"These tea gardens provide a very practical service for the stability of the Japanese culture," continued Abigail. "Much like our city, state and national parks, these gardens give them a place to escape the hustle and bustle of everyday life.
"Japan is a very crowded island culture, and family homes often contain the grandparents and even other relatives. Family groups have very little privacy. For a husband and wife to have intimate time to themselves, they sometimes take an evening off and check into a 'love hotel.'"
Ted gave Abigail a surprised look, to which she responded, "Now, I'm not talking about a place whose sign reads 'Mirrors, Mirrors, Mirrors' and you pay by the minute. Love Hotels are sort of homes away from home. All people need to feel loved, Ted. If a couple must leave their home and check into a hotel to fulfill their physical desires, it doesn't take long for an enterprising people like the Japanese to fill that need with specialized solutions.
"The complexity of humans creates an ever-evolving demand for stimulation and reflection," Abigail explained as they continued to stroll down the gravel path. "In fact, special places like tea gardens and love hotels could easily exist side by side because they both offer the opportunity for escape and a chance for finding inner peace."
"So all we need to do is stroll around looking at shrubs, rocks, statues and flowers, and we'll feel better?" asked Ted, careful not to offend Abigail with his tenuous grasp of what she was explaining.
"If those things within the garden fulfill your needs, then that's great," smiled Abigail. "But, like most things in life, the closer you look at something, the more complex and interesting it becomes. Every object seems to hold more treasures within it. In fact, the place we're approaching now is a treasure even within this exceptional place. This is where we start the 'Way of Tea.'"
"Abigail?" murmured Ted as he surveyed the surrounding landscape.
"Yes, Ted, what's wrong?" asked Abigail as she stopped walking and turned to face him.
"Oh, there's nothing wrong," replied Ted hesitantly. "I'd just like to stop for a few minutes and talk with you. I feel like I've been sucked up in a silent tornado and it's carrying me off over the rainbow."
Laughing, Abigail stepped close to him, put her arms around his waist and remarked, "There's a stone bench on the other side of the mere. Let's go and sit there for a while. I'm sorry if you feel that I'm rushing you through the garden. A person could sit here for days just studying the bonsai trees and feel that they've just begun in their search for inner tranquility."
When they arrived at the stone bench Abigail sat and waited for him to join her, but Ted remained standing, gazing down as if he were lost in thought.