Plants, Roots, and Soils

If you take a young tree and you move it all around the garden without giving it the time to let its roots sink into the ground, then it's destined to be malnourished. Without those roots sinking in and finding the important minerals and water sources that exist below, the tree will be deprived - and despite the diversity of soils that it is exposed to - it may easily be blown over in the wind. (Of course the seasonal flowers rarely have this problem because life is short and sweet for them.)

In the past few years I have been that tree that has uprooted too many times for my own good. At first the diversity of soils felt awkward and unwanted, then new and eye-opening. But now the new soils feel unneeded, excessive. I need the nutrients that a good and healthy collection of roots could gather.

Concordantly, after many uprootings you find yourself all too aware of the ephemerality of your new (if temporary) resting place. It becomes a rest stop on the highway of life - and certainly not a profound or inspiring location at that. But everyone needs an exit off the highway eventually - and one that leads, if lucky, quite far away from the smog and noise of the highway.

For me I knew that I would be leaving in one year when I first got here (although I was almost persuaded by my boss that it would be three), and thus I did not let my roots sink to the depth with which I might be injured when moved again. Or perhaps they sunk in without my will or knowledge, just as wishful thinking and dreaming can, against the will, allow deep attachment to form quickly after having found a new romantic potential. But no, my roots in this town were even more inadvertent... They couldn't be contained; it's only natural. Still, they must be uprooted again and moved. They will be reminded of their old Japanese home by the residue left on them that never quite washed away during their transplantation. And with that I will end this over-extended metaphor.