As sakura begin to open again, I've been thinking about an old Buddhist expression:

桜梅桃李 (Oubaitori).

It names four spring blossoms — cherry, plum, peach, and Japanese plum. And it carries something simple and reassuring: each flower blooms in its own way, in its own time. Not earlier. Not later. Just according to its nature.

When Comparison Creeps In

This phrase has always given me something to hold onto.

There have been seasons when I felt I was underachieving. When I quietly measured myself against some deadline I had set without quite realising it, and found I was behind. When I looked at someone else blooming — at their timing, their confidence, their visible progress — and wondered what was taking me so long.

But even in nature, nothing blooms all at once.

Cherry blossom is brief and luminous — intense, and then gone. Plum blooms while winter is still lingering, steady and early, before most things have even stirred. Peach comes fuller and warmer, arriving as the season settles in. Japanese plum is quieter — subtle, easy to overlook, but no less real.

They share the same earth, the same sky. But not the same timing. And none of them are wrong. None of them are late.

Seasons of Becoming

I once wrote about 大器晩成 (Taiki Bansei) — the idea that a great vessel takes time to complete. I think about that often.

Some things mature slowly. Some seasons are invisible before anything shows. Some growth happens underground, where no one can see it, for a long time before it surfaces.

When I catch myself comparing — or feeling like I should already be somewhere else — 桜梅桃李 steadies me.

Blooming isn't competition. It's season.

And maybe spring is here to remind us of that.

What season do you feel you're in right now? I'd love to hear in the comments.