Every year for one week in spring, I feel guilty. It is that week when the cherry trees blossom. This is when nature’s colour palette is upside down; leaves appear yo be blushing pink, bridal white, fireworks yellow or even electric green. No matter where I am, birds forget that singing is from 5:00 to 8:00 AM and they continue well into the afternoon.
It should be a national holiday, that week and I should sit on a park bench under one of those cherries. From 5:00 until 17:00.
Whatever we expect from life, whatever it is that we are waiting for: this is it! This is how we see ourselves when all is perfect. This is the traditional view of heaven: that spring garden with tweeting birds, sweet flower scents and warm sunlight.
So what do we do?
We go to work. We drive around in cars. We spend our day indoors or working on chores that have absolutely no meaning in the context of life and dreams.
Hence the guilt.
But as I cycled to work, I stopped under a cherry tree and watched the pink snow flutter down. And I wondered: what does one dream of, when the dream has come true?