wisteria

Thank you for everything.

When a love is so kind and it makes you want to learn to be kinder like the reflection of sunlight on the water. I learnt a korean word "윤슬" from a dear sister of mine which exactly means "the shimmering light on gentle ripples, caused by sunlight or moonlight." and it's just so beautiful to finally have a name of something that you have always held close to your heart. Apparently the word can only be discovered through arts since they don't use it in casual or everyday conversation, so I think now it sounds so much more special, as if it only exists for those who has a room in their hearts for it..

The flower that always gives me hope. While gardening itself is a way to believe in the hopeful tomorrows, iris is the flower that is known for its resilience and its ability to bloom from the poor soil, it always returns after the harshest winters to let you believe that hope is always there. So the next time you see iris anywhere, I hope you can also remember that as long as the iris blooms, never let hope slips out of your fingers. I also remember the hanakotoba for it being bravery for their petals that look like swords, and the one who made resilience and cognitive reappraisal theory was also named iris mauss okay this one is just funny to me but that's that! Hope is always there.

I would choose this flower if I were to describe love in its most tender form, for it symbolizes devotion that transcends even death. Love does not simply come to an end even after one's death, it lingers long after their absence, while the grief that follows remains a weight no heart that has ever truly loved could ever learn to bear with ease. But what is love if not something that walks hand in hand with loathing? What is desire if it does not come at the cost of suffering? Is it still love if it exists without the ever-present fear of losing what we hold most dear? Just like how wisteria can live for a thousand years, weathering countless seasons yet never drawing any closer to the hearts of those who admire it, perhaps we, too, will never learn how to stomach loss. Perhaps swallowing a single petal of it would feel much like swallowing all the sorrow we have carried for the sake of a love we refuse to let die. It is indeed painful beyond words, but it's the kind of pain that feels most tender, for it comes from having loved something worth grieving for.