Hana No Mizube

Dragonflies on the pool of the infinite

    Drifting archipelagos of terrapins floated in dabs across the smooth surface of the water. Occasionally the rinsing splash of a carp sounded as it broke through the ceiling of its fluid province. Fujiko sat motionless at the edge of the pool, staring vacantly into her uncle's well manicured garden. Stones brought from far away laboured a precious facsimile of the surrounding hills. In her youth she had run up and down the real thing, finding birds' nests and orchids to satisfy her fledgeling fascination. Now she was content to ponder her world of containment inside the calculated order of this treasured retreat.
    She sighed lengthily, emptying her sadness onto the swirling streams of pebbles below her. The yukata she wore pinched a little around the waist. Pink camellia flowers, which just an hour ago were extending a vibrant fanfare, began to droop in the increasing heat of the late morning.
    He wasn't coming back. So many times they had tearfully parted; sometimes with anger, sometimes regret. It became clear as Fujiko traced the lines of textured lichen on her craggy seat, that this time was the final good-bye. Bitter disappointment pulled her face toward her knees, though she resisted with composure. A portal of fresh recognition opened in her heart - she was relieved.
    Just then, a sound filled the air. A distant throbbing, a rush of clicking mechanical precision. She turned her head to the water, and there, a foot's length above the surface, a vast dragonfly was heading in her direction. The insect was conveying its giant frame with a gliding grace that seemed to halt the flow of time in the garden. All the lilies showing their faces at the margin of the water held their breath, watching the metallic hulk flicker across the expanse. It made a dramatic pass and Fujiko marvelled at the flashes of neon green and blue which gilded its long body. As it passed by, she felt the waves of successive wing beats patter through her chest, spreading ripples of colour down to her toes. In that moment, she was transparent; just an echo of a thought, an ephemeral statue placed on that rock for the delight of the magnificent pilot now curving a wide arc through the sunlight.
    It came to a graceful halt on a bamboo leaf nearby. She could see the thin filaments of webbing that threaded through its wings, stronger in kind and more graceful than anything she had known. The insect's body coiled slightly, its weight bending the leaf down in front of her. Two large eyes examined the environment in smooth vectors, interpreting the shapes and patterns of the moment and committing them to a memory it did not own.
    Fujiko was given to the moment. She had never been so utterly committed to the present. She had no thoughts, no reflections, no opinions. She was like the dragonfly,  simply being, unaided, unrestrained.
    The dragonfly began to quiver, oscillating its shining wings once again. Launching itself from the leaf, it hovered close to her, archaic, beautiful. She watched its legs dangling, inert, yet ready to engage the next intention. Again, the thumping trill spread through her senses. She was a dream being dreamed by this dragonfly lord. Its humming form was vivid; the origin of the illusion and focus of creation. It turned and flew away. Soon it was tacking expertly across the pond and ultimately became a distant speck.
    Fujiko blinked and a sudden intake of air snapped her back to herself. All life had been suspended for just a few seconds. She remembered however, that inside the envelope brought by the dragonfly, an eternity resided. Part of her lived there always.  She felt the clinging familiarity of her world return to her. The garden, her uncle, her lover now departed. It became clear to Fujiko, as she sat on that rock, that her life was in fact the dream. Her waking days were a fleeting span of form and matter, made potent by the confirmation she gave it.
    Later that year, her uncle announced that he would make her a gift. He was a talented man with many skills and could be relied upon to fashion something exquisite. Her request for a shining dragonfly of metal and glass was approved and duly forged, yet only she would know what ecstatic gem was contained within.
   

Reviews

[An Ordinary Woman]

*... that her life was in fact the dream. Her waking days were a fleeting span of form and matter, made potent by the confirmation she gave it. *

I find that sentence to be a very powerful statement. How very true that everything we do in life, is made potent by the confirmations we give, or do not give. It is almost my motto as I am constantly reminding myself the consequences of my choices and trying to base decision making on that line of thinking.

I was really amazed at the details of the dragonfly .... things I have seen myself but had never thought about before. Amazing descriptions ... the thin filaments of webbing that threaded through its wings, two large eyes examined the environment in smooth vectors, dragonfly began to quiver, oscillating its shining wings, insect's body coiled slightly, its weight bending the leaf down... this has so much imagery with it I felt I was really looking at a dragonfly!

*She remembered however, that inside the envelope brought by the dragonfly, an eternity resided. Part of her lived there always. She felt the clinging familiarity of her world return to her.*... this was really beautiful to me.

I appreciate the total serenity of this piece very relaxing and wonderful. I enjoyed it so much.

I want to ask though ... about the title. Hana? I expected Hana to be a character in the story, but no.

[Raef C. Boylan]

Really well-crafted story, Andrew - you held us captured in the moment in the same way the dragonfly held Fujiko captive in reflection. It takes skill to convey the undramatic [although dramatic in terms of poignancy and revelation]. Excellent work.
I enjoyed reading this a lot, and felt transported to this tranquil garden of stillness and calm...suspended like a hovering dragonfly...lol, enough.

"was a dream being dreamed by this dragonfly lord" [I'm not sure, but "dreamed" might be 'dreamt'?]

Thanks for sharing this.

[Wulfstan Crumble]

The old word for Dragonfly in Japanese is Aketsu. This used to be the old name for the Japanese islands (at which time did not include Hokkaido or Okinawa). I like the title though cannot recall the meaning of Mizube. Though it obviously relates to flowers in this instance. I remember cycling along the Yamato river for three years in my old city. In September the dragonflies would fly along side the river, always in the opposite direction to me. Yet not one ever bumped into me. They parted like supplicants to a king. Your piece is very beautiful. I like the idea of the pond and the manicured garden. The waves in the gravel that would no doubt be there represent the sea. The presence of the Yukata, the summer version of the kimono, of a lighter fabric and brighter colours, and the dragonflies tells us its in late august or september when summer is in full swing and does not end until october. Well, in osaka at least. Beautiful piece.

[Narnie]

Oh my... you had us holding our breath as she was lost in that moment. Dragonflys are so poignant as there lifetime span is so short... how do they fit it all in when we spend years and years angsting at every step? Hmmmmm. Beautiful writing Andrew.

[Nicole (Carpe Diem)]

I don't know, I almost think you should have kept the Japenese title, it is the theme of the piece (well sort of) you have serveral other words, etc that represent Japan/Japenese in this story.
I like this a lot - the story is so real, you can almost picture being there. I truly enjoyed reading it.