Crouching for Water

Some time ago, I was at the Chicago Botanic Garden with a friend.  It's an expansive place, and I visit there often, but I rarely walk to the Japanese Garden, a place that's most likely the most manicured space there. That day she took me there, and I was surprised by the spareness and the order and fascinated with trying to photograph forms and shapes with new eyes.  After, I researched the tsukubai and wrote a poem that has finally been published as part of a mini-chapbook by Origami Poems and editor Jan Keough.  The idea of crouching to the stone basin to purify oneself is a ritual often part of the tea ceremony.  

"According to A CHANOYU VOCABULARY, the term “tsukubai” originates from the Japanese verb “tsukubau”, meaning to squat or crouch, and refers to the fact that one must crouch or bend down to use the basin. This is the form we will discuss here. In some cases, especially in temples and homes, only the stone basin called chozubachi 手水鉢 is present, while temple gardens with tea rooms usually have the more traditional tsukubai arrangements. In both cases, the basin itself is the same and the ideal of purifying oneself remains, but the aesthetics of the Way of Tea brings a more refined use and design."
More here japanesegardening.org/reference/tsukubai.html

In Kyoto at one of the famous temples, there are characters written on the stone.  According to Wikipedia, "If each is read in combination with 口 (kuchi) - the shape of the central bowl - then the characters become 吾, 唯, 足, 知 which translates literally as "I only know plenty" (吾 = ware = I, 唯 = tada = only, 足 = taru = plenty, 知 = shiru = know).[5] The underlying meaning, variously translated as "what one has is all one needs",[5] or "learn only to be content""
I did find contentment and plenty in the moments spent simply studying the bead of water dripping from the hollow bamboo pipe hovering above the bowl.
​
Crouching for Water
I bend down
with my camera
in one hand
spellbound
by the bead of water
as it quivers on
the lip
of hollow pipe,
drips
into the stone bowl--
a tsukubai 
fed by water
sleeved through
bamboo.
 
I’m not washing my hands
nor rinsing my mouth,
not preparing
for ceremonial tea--
 
alone with time
slackened
to a drip
of a drop into
pooled water,   
 
I click.  Wait
with the patience
of a sparrow click  
for the seed
click to overflow
the feeder again--
for the click
droplet to dissolve
the stillness.
 
A friend led me here once.
To be fed.
I return--
each click a sacred
cleansing of  eye.
 
Check out this website for a fresh way to have one's poetry featured!  You can print and fold your own books.
www.origamipoems.com/
My book
www.origamipoems.com/images/Microchap/Gail_Goepfert_-_Crouching_for_Water_8_2018.pdf