I love words like this, don’t you?
Susurrus is an onomatopoeic word; say it out loud and you’ll hear the sound — so many sibilant ssssssssses.
Susurrus – a low, soft, rustling, whispering; a low murmur or humming sound; think of the wind in trees or grasses, a stream or river, snakes, bees, or large groups of people speaking quietly to one another.
It’s also, apparently, a word used to describe a creature in some kind of fantasy game that I know nothing about.
Happy April!
I’m inspired by the spartan aesthetic of Zen Buddhism.
Is less really more?
Ma (pronounced “maah”) is a celebration of not things, but the space between them. It’s negative space, voids, emptiness. The place you get to (if you’re lucky) in meditation. Like the space where that tree used to be.
I’m not exactly sure why this tiny little ceramic vase IS. Like why it even exists.
Only four inches tall, it holds about a tablespoon of water and I continued to replace flower after flower until I got the brilliant idea of searching around the garden for beautifully shaped little twigs.
These are the last remnants of the ficus tree that is no longer there, and I decided it would be a simple way to honor that once living entity by saving a little part of it.
At first I was going to embellish the tiny branches with faux gems, pearls, and seashells–like I usually do–but the more I looked at it, the more I loved the bare simplicity. I didn’t want to detract from the design of the vase.
I should write a haiku about the tree and these twigs. Being a minimalist with words is just as difficult for me as NOT gluing shiny things to those tiny little branches.
So this is zen — ma, the serene space between things.
Enchanted Seashells | Princess Rosebud 