As always, you’d rather spend the day with your daughter, but you can’t, and suddenly you find yourself remembering where she went to kindergarten. The next thing you know you’re on your bicycle heading for that part of town–and passing through the lotus fields.

Somewhere in Japan, a typhoon is passing through. Here in Shizuoka, though, there’s not much affect, other than thick gray skies and constant gusts.

But just look at the size of those leaves! And just look at how tall those green, green stems grow! They’ve got to get those giant blossoms up out of the elephant-ear leaves and into the sky! And just look at them go! Up, up, up!

After all that effort, do you think they’re going to complain that the sky wasn’t blue enough when they got to where they could see it good?

No, they’re not. And neither did I. Both the lotus field and the sky were lovely, just as they were.

But I did feel like seeing them under a blue sky–and maybe when the blossoms had opened a bit more. So two days later, I went back. Yes, on my bicycle.

Not waiting for the winds to pass,

Not waiting for the sky to brighten,

The lotus rose from swampy ground,

An eager green,  tight-packed titan.

Though its snuggling sheets show rich dark pink,

I know  its need inside to whiten.

It will surrender, will surely show

A naked, tender heart aglow–

And me . . . I’ll feel my burdens lighten?

One who performs his duty without attachment,

surrendering the results unto the Supreme Lord,

is unaffected by sinful action,

as the lotus is untouched by water.

(The Bhagavad Gita)

The lotus, if you don’t know, is cultivated for its roots, known as renkon, and is an established part of Japanese cooking and cooking elsewhere in Asia.  You can get some basic English information on the lotus here, including nutrional information for renkon, and pictures of the root and farmers in the fields on this Japanese-language page.