I was taking a morning constitutional thru the graveyard this morning. It a familiar path. It is the way I travel when I go to teach. It is the way I walk when I come home.
Having planted a few good friends lately these stones become more personal.
The cherry trees in the graveyard are about to bloom. Soon we will write our haiku about a short and beautiful life. But what comes next? I begn to wonder, what sort of grave do you crave?
My taste goes to the natural, like the grave for Oden San. She still gets flowers from the Grand Kabuki. A shame they put her next to a public toilet. Rather they put the toilet beside her. She was here first.
Some people merit fancy cuts of stones, rounded, or like a pagoda. Perhaps they were priests.
What started me thinking about stones this morning, got me snapping photographs was the discovery of a new innovation, the subdivision of a grave very much like my first apartment in Manhattan. My first Manhattan apartment was in a grand old building on the Upper West Side. You could see that when it was constructed there was one or at most two apartments per floor. But the time I got there these great old apartments had been subdivided, the two split into ten, leaveing a rabbit hutch for my young wife and my young self to reside in.
By the time I get there it seems that subdivisions are all that is left.