Sakura: A Brief Encounter

Awareness of Japan's affection for sakura, or the cherry blossom, extends far beyond its borders. Profusely portrayed for centuries in Japanese art, poetry and song, one cannot fail to notice the special relationship that exists between the Japanese and this delicate, transient bloom.

Yet it has not always been so. In the eighth century when Nara served as the country's capital, Japan's political and social infrastructure was less settled and it may surprise you to know that it was the humble ume or plum blossom that was most admired, far more so than sakura. I myself had sometimes wondered why it was that sakura, rather than ume, received all the glory and attention. Ume always comes into flower first, like an early herald of spring. In so doing it arouses a feeling of optimism and warmth that is so uplifting after the long chill of winter. Ume seems more resilient too, hanging on to the branch with a successful determination that far outreaches the flimsy, flighty sakura who slips away so easily with the first strong wind that comes her way. Perhaps it was these qualities of strength and resilience displayed by ume that led to it being so revered by the people of the Nara period. When your leaders appear weak and leadership itself is prone to sudden change, you may seek confirmation from the natural world around you of something possessing more substance, something with more staying power.

The shift in popularity from ume to sakura seems to have coincided with the movement of the capital from Nara to Kyoto and there could be several explanations for this. As social conditions hardened under the warring shogunate, people may have been more seduced by the elusive and transient beauty of the sakura. The brief moment that exists when a sakura tree is in full bloom may have enabled individuals to elevate their dreams, to aspire to something beyond their reach and to help them escape from the harsh reality of their daily lives. Geography most likely played some part too, as the mountains around Kyoto contain more cherry trees than the plains around Nara.

Whatever the reasons, it is clear that by the advent of the Edo era in the mid-seventeenth century, cherry blossom viewing or hanami was already an established yearly ritual. Since hanami first began, it cannot be denied that love for and appreciation of sakura has become firmly ingrained in Japan's national psyche. The flower itself is a popular motif, used to adorn all manner of items, from bowls to kimono, sweets, handbags and even aircraft. However, it cannot be denied that it is still the event of hanami, in which thousands come out to enjoy and glorify this beautiful flower by making wonderful parties beneath the trees, that captures the imagination of even the most stoic among us.

Hanami has to be one of the most delightful, if not also one of the most raucous of traditions that still thrives in Japan today. It begins with sakura zensen, a remarkable spectacle that completely took me by surprise the first time I witnessed it. Every year the meteorological society traces the opening of the sakura and presents it on a chart at the end of the evening news. The blossoms follow a pattern set by warming temperatures, which is depicted as a wave of pink blooms that spreads slowly across the country, beginning in the southern island of Okinawa. The first time I saw this 'map of flowers' I came to see that sakura had become something of a national obsession. To me this seemed funny, charming and completely idiosyncratic. I later learnt that sakura zensen is an essential guide, allowing families, friends and colleagues to plan the all-important hanami party.

Most schools and public buildings have cherry trees planted outside, and the opening of the blossoms in many areas coincides with the beginning of the academic and fiscal year. It is not uncommon for the first task given to newly-recruited company staff to be the reservation of a good 'hanami spot' in the local park. This involves sitting on a large, often blue plastic sheet from early in the morning until everyone from the office comes along later, often laden with copious quantities of food and drink. It is not unusual to see portable karaoke boxes in the midst of these groups and it seems that everyone relishes being out in the open air, having a break from the normal routine.

There is something more to it than this, however. It is widely held that sakura is revered for its ephemeral quality, its gentle reminder to us that our time here is only brief. This may read like poetics but this sentiment does take on a remarkable personal poignancy when one actually experiences the magic of hanami for oneself. I remember my first time. It was a wild, spontaneous event that nevertheless set the precedent for what was to become a string of wonderful happenings that I am sure will stay with me for the rest of my life. Too numerous to mention here except in passing, I will say though that one of my favourite hanami 'moments' involved meeting a lovely elderly gentleman beneath the cherry trees in Tokyo when the local hanami party was in full swing. He caught my eye because he was entirely dressed from head to foot in pink! Shoes, socks, suit, hat, shirt and tie... even his cheeks, coloured no doubt by the generous cups of sake he was indulging in, had turned bright pink! We smiled at each other and he beckoned me over. Together for only a minute or two, we shared a warm camaraderie beneath the soft flowers and had time enough to have our picture taken together before our respective parties called us away and we parted. It was just one moment, but the warmth and total acceptance of each other touched on something universal that I believe we all share. I think it must be what we call our humanity.