Days 10 & 11: Cherry Blossom, Mono No Aware (物の哀れ)

CHESTER, MD —

April 3 & 4, 2024

Days 10 (Rest) & 11:

Mono no aware (物の哀れ), a Japanese idiom meaning, 'the pathos (empathy) of things,' the both transient and deep gentle sadness of the impermanence of things, and an appreciative awareness of them prior to their passing.

They did not hurry, though my legs craved motion a day and a half within a hotel room, if those walls could talk. Patiently, I placed myself on the trail again, and it felt right.

My limbs have always been with me, so reliable, so loyal. How easy is it to take movement for granted? They are a blessing I often overlook in my over-occupation with self, but this was less the case beneath a cherry blossom tree along Chester’s Cross Islands Trail.

As a light drizzle wet the young white pedals above me, I could not remove from my mind the solemn countenance of a sculpted fisherman from the Maryland Watermen’s Monument a half mile back, which honored all residents who perished while fishing in the Chesapeake Bay, particularly after the Civil War when the region’s seafood industry boomed.

I began to think of Greg, who in one of his many lives was a salmon fisherman in Alaska, and I thought of my own life and the numerous hats I’ve worn throughout it, each replaced with another fitting me in its own unique way.

Transitions are always happening, and there is always an inevitable, emotionally charged double-edged sword to be unsheathed in each old touchstone withering and every new one flourishing.

I do not like change. Alas, the fear of impermanence is insanity. When I see this reality for what it is, I have the opportunity to let go, as there are certain touchstones that will both outlast and restore me to sanity.

Each step of this walk will only be taken once. I don’t take them alone, but alongside Greg. His legs cannot walk today, but mine can move for him, and though they too will one day be incapable of steps, I inscribe these words in a touchstone that will outlast my own impermanence.

I now wait for my Aunt Jennifer to escort me over the Chesapeake Bay Bridge in Stevensville on April 5–the only stretch of the ADT which cannot be traversed by foot.

Until then, I sit and appreciate the beauty of the cherry blossoms.