Just as hands scooping water, the bowl serves as if a vessel of acceptance, where images sink to the depths of the basin as memories. As the water reflects the moon’s ever-shifting presence, one comes to embrace its fragile state as the beauty of impermanence and discover its coming hopes as restoration. The Bodhisattva statue, plaster figurine, glass bottle, bird’s corpse all shatter for means to restore once again in a continuous state of repetition.
The flowing river never stops and yet the water never stays the same. Foam floats upon the pools, scattering, re-forming, never lingering long. So it is with man and all his dwelling places here on earth.