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                             Green Leaves of Oirase

Gazing upward, I see daylight glinting through the clears out. 
The trees of Oirase stand like respected, insightful persons. 
Looking upward from the streambed where I stand, I see dark green leaves of August, loaded with life, stretching out from treetops and branches toward little fixes of blue sky. 
Nothing is more meriting commendation than a tree that has persevered. 
Excellence drawing closer godlikeness. 
Not a thing is absent. Flawlessness. Its trunk, gigantic. Its bark, thick. 
In Japanese it is called mizunara- - water oak. 
Its name gets from the expansive measure of water it stores. 
These trees develop to 100 feet in tallness; I am informed that their normal age is around 300 years. 
As I look upward, the consistent mumble of the mountain stream purifies my ears, punctuated every now and then with the peeping of fowls. 

Could there be a winged animal that does not sing? 

Could there be a tree that does not reach toward the sky? 

The tree stakes its exceptionally presence on only one thing. It needs just to completely show the force it has covered up inside. 
"I will carry on with my life! I will completely develop and idealize my life!" 
Without perplexity or faltering, glad, superb, the tree lives as it may be, consistent with itself. 

What's more, in the place where there is Oirase, such respectable trees line the streambeds in "green forests." And the name Aomori, the prefecture in which Oirase is found, signifies "green forests." 
It was my first visit to Aomori in 15 years. Summer, 1994. I had flown from Sapporo on Japan's northern island of Hokkaido to the airplane terminal in Misawa. From that point, I advanced toward one of Soka Gakkai's focuses in the Tohoku locale. 
My last visit had been in January 1979. Around then the Soka Gakkai, and I for one, had been progressing through an exceptional snow squall of restriction and trouble. It was a period in which those portrayed in the Lotus Sutra as "the demon and the fallen angel's kin" were going crazy. 
However, the individuals persevered through that long, long winter. 
they gritted their teeth and continued on for a long time. Before the unstoppable light of the sun of equity, the shameful ice of turpitude liquefied to nothing. The "woods" of competent and successful companions flourished dynamically. 

Around 1,000 feet underneath the grounds of the middle streams a mountain stream of Oirase. 
While chatting with my valuable companions of the Tohoku district, I strolled among this excellent normal setting, a perfect work of art of nature. 
A cool, clear stream. Sparkling splash developing where it meets the overgrown rocks. As the waves pound the stones, they yield white froth, then at the end of the day tranquilly come back to the shiny green pool. 
The shapes of the earth structure rapids, pools, waterfalls- - always showing signs of change vistas. 
On the inclining banks of the gorge, yellow and white blossoms sprout, inclining toward the current. Fallen trees lie hosed by the stream. 
In spots, the developing trees have come up against overwhelming rocks, now and then dislodging them, or else breaking them or notwithstanding lifting them upward. 

What constancy! They basically continue squeezing skyward, straight toward the sky, regardless of what may get in their direction. The taller they develop, the more profound they sink their roots into the earth. 

Along these lines, a tree is an extension that associates paradise and earth. In spite of the fact that little, this extension is altogether alive- - a living recieving wire by which the earth speaks with the universe. 
All in the universe is a nonstop battle. So it is with the development of plants and trees. Winning that battle, they develop green and prosper. 
In the development rings of this oak are engraved a background marked by every one of its hardships, all its battles and all its superb triumphs. Recorded are winters when branches bow under the heaviness of snow, and summers of cheerful abundance. 
The splits in its bark give it the presence of the wrinkled, sun-tanned skin of a full grown man. To this tree, I ask in my heart, "Wouldn't you get a kick out of the chance to go elsewhere sometime in the not so distant future?" 
However, the tree appears to grin warmly and answer: "obviously not! This is my place! It is here that I have battled and won! Could there be any more noteworthy spot than this?" 
Ok! Valuable tree- - constantly invested and perpetually dwelling in the Land of Eternally Tranquil Light. Your glad structure helps me to remember an incredible savant who is stirred to reality of the universe.

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