By Marisa
Friday, May 24
I believe in holding neutral expectations for everything I do in life. Even in anticipating my trip to Japan, I aimed to be neither ecstatic nor pessimistic. I wanted Japan and all of its experiences to impress upon me as they needed to — one meeting, one moment.
There was however one exception: the Ikebana flower arrangement workshop we were scheduled to participate in in Tokyo, which I looked forward to with much anticipation. I was told it was a special, exclusive opportunity with one of Japan’s best Ikebana schools. When I saw that I was assigned to blog on this day, I was very excited to be assigned the best day on the trip!
I try, however, to keep neutral expectations for a reason. I had romanticized the practice of Ikebana in my head as the perfect self-expressive conversation between my heart and the flowers to be assorted. I thought of the dance my fingers, the flowers, and the shears would do to let an organic arrangement unfold before me—a reflection of my inner self through the balanced positioning of stem, leaf, petal, and bloom.
When I first entered the workshop, my eyes were immediately drawn to the counter crowded with a diverse, colorful assortment of plants of differing colors, textures, and shapes. I excitedly started making mental notes of the flowers I wanted to add to my Ikebana. The demonstration began with Kyoko, our lovely instructor, showing the group how to do a simple arrangement using a classic assortment: roses and baby breaths. In the middle of the demonstration, her assistants give each of us a swaddled bundle of mystery flowers. Initially I am a little disappointed, as I had been mentally preoccupied deciding my own selection while Kyoko arranged the rather mundane choice in flowers. I decided instead that this bundle could add an element of excitement to the class, with a random and unique selection of flowers to choose from. I just had one condition: above all else, please do not let this bundle contain the generic roses and baby breaths used for demonstration.
Life can be a thorn in the thumb sometimes.
I hate to be a cynic of traditional romanticism, but red roses and white baby breaths scream antiquated notions of too many “I love you’s” and “I’m sorry’s.” In American culture especially, the rose has become absentmindedly symbolic of beauty and love; the baby breaths are always in accompaniment to fill the gaps of the overused messages the rose has been expected to convey. Not only have I seen the flower duo upward of 900 times in my life, but I had just watched someone rearrange them in the technique we were supposed to practice. My high expectations, that Ikebana would be creative and self-expressive were completely shattered. Disenchanted, I begrudgingly accepted my fate—I had no choice. I began to trim the uninspiring assortment to fit my vase.
What I had not realized was that in having my exceptionally high expectations shattered, I had unintentionally found neutrality in the work before me. I knew that I had come here to practice Ikebana arranging, so I had accepted my role as a participant even if I would have preferred a more inspiring selection of flowers. Thus, I found myself present in the practice without my ego getting in the way. What I ended up creating pleasantly surprised me.
I had accepted the conditions I had no control over and found a way to make it my own. Although I was given roses, I managed to make an arrangement with the centerpiece missing. Of course, I was certainly in the minority with the decision not to use the roses, but that’s what made it more special for me. I created an assortment on my terms while still accepting the conditions set for me. In what I had perceived to be restriction, I found freedom.
When I let go of my desire to control my experience and my frustration upon realizing I had no control, I was truly free to be myself—to create, express, and innovate. Thus, when life gives you roses, kindly return them back. Avoid a thorn in the thumb, leave the flower in the bush, and just simply smell the roses.
