the beauty of a park

i was taking a stroll through the local park. let me tell you, the mosquitos are pitfully tiny, but equally voracious. and my body is not desensetized to them: i am an itchy boy. this park is quite massive, but one thing i'm discovering (and already knew, i just hadn't put it together) is that the japanese idea of a park isn't pristine forests and babbling brooks; it's tennis courts and gravel squares and concrete enclosed streams. sure there is tons of foliage and green space, but it's all tailored. it's wrapped and pruned and carefully selected. i understand the aesthetic - it really is beautiful to behold- but it doesn't have that feeling, that sense of vibrancy that i'm filled with when i walk through the back forest in violet hill or stanley park. this only goes to solidify my maturing belief in something that nature possesses which is far more than meets the eye. i think that this meticulous tailoring is present not just here, but in everything they create - and this is where their famous diligence comes into play. it is the possibility for any endeavour to become an art, be it designing a compact house, the world's most comfortable toilet (yes, i'm still on about that. the seats are even heated, and it'll blow dry your butt after you bedet yourself), or arranging flowers. thus, when you take on an endeavour in japan you do it with every ounce of energy and experience you can muster. how many other places have lifetime employment? they want someone who's been doing the job for 30 years, because all their experience is in that field. in the case of living with nature, however, the japanese need to read up on aristotle a little: there is, somewhere, a golden mean between tailored beauty and natural beauty that does not exist here. it can be noticed by one who is used to something a little less cultivated and a little more powerful.