The two moments of beauty
The common room in the K’s House in Hiroshima is more modern than the one in Kawaguchiko. I share a table to myself with various activities, Rubik’s cube, Uno, Jenga, and a mini Foosball table. I’m accompanied with two couples, a pair of friends, and two loners scattered across tables and couches. I wonder if I should try to be friendly, but I’m busy jotting down my thoughts while they’re all occupied by magic considered by the natives to the 19th century. - it’s crazy to think we can have everything neatly fitted into our pockets. Although the walls are nearly bare, with the exception of a few 4x6 photos I’m assuming are from travelers sending their thanks from back home, I feel welcomed by the echoes of “My Love” by Justin Timberlake, and my cup of green tea.
I had two significant moments today while traveling to Ikutushima Shrine in Hiroshima. One moment of longevity, but both of pure beauty, the kind that reminisces a prolonged kiss, the kind that makes time stand still.
The railways are always filled with a frenzy of passengers coming and going. Losing a child would be ordinary to a mediocre parent. However, at one particular moment, everything slowed down, the travelers, the trains, and the echoes of voices and wind. This couple treaded a lingering walk that caught my attention.
Hunched over and walking with a cane, his wife assisted his free arm to the railing on his right side. With her right hand guiding his, and her left rubbing his back, she was benefitting him. She was supporting him, she had his back, she stood behind him physically and emotionally. She did all these things presently in front of me, and figuratively for many years - I’m assuming. This couple was old - probably in their 70’s, and demonstrated that everlasting love most people hope to achieve. - maybe it is possible.
I stood upon the ferry traveling to Itukushima, an island known as Miyajima, which means Shrine Island in Japanese. Many, including myself, were capturing the moment of the calm sea partnered with the green scenery from the mountains, and a torii (a wooden Japanese gate that stands 55 feet) that welcomes visitors, with our smart phones and expensive cameras. I was beginning to snap another picture, but something stopped me. The simplicity of the present altered my impulse. In this moment I didn’t want to share it with my world, my friends and family. I wanted to experience this alone. I was selfish, and that’s okay. I captured it with the lens to my soul, my eyes.
What I witnessed besides lovely green trees, bright white and pink cherry blossoms illuminated by the fog from the rain and cool air, and historic architecture, was peace. The only thing that mattered at that brief moment was existence. Existence of myself, the people around me, and the world. It was beautiful.
