You Create So Freely That It’s Refreshing to Watch

What keeps someone learning the same art for more than a decade? This week, I share the lessons, conversations, and quiet encouragement that continue to shape my ikebana practice.

You Create So Freely That It’s Refreshing to Watch

Get the HanaYou Ikebana Journal in your inbox.

Every Thursday, I take the train from Kyoto to Osaka to study ikebana with my teacher. The class itself lasts only about an hour, but the journey has become an important part of my week. It is a rhythm I have followed for many years.

Recently, while I was arranging flowers in class, my teacher said something she has told me many times before:

“You create so freely that it’s refreshing to watch.”

At first, I misunderstood what she meant. I thought she was politely telling me that my arrangements were too large, too wild, or perhaps a little unconventional. But she explained that wasn’t it at all. She said the flowers seemed comfortable. The branches stretched naturally in the vase. Nothing looked forced.

Hearing that made me incredibly happy. Because if there is one thing I hope my ikebana can do, it is help people feel a little more at ease.

Why I Still Go to Osaka

Ryoko holding her first bouquet at the flower shop in 2012
The first bouquet I made at the flower shop in 2012.

I started learning ikebana in Osaka in 2010. At the time, I was working in a flower shop and wanted to learn everything I could about flowers as quickly as possible. I also thought ikebana might become a useful skill in the future.

I never imagined it would become part of my identity.

Today, there are many places where I could study ikebana. I could even find classes much closer to home in Kyoto. Yet every Thursday, I still travel to Osaka.

The reason is simple. I trust my teacher.

Over the years, she has come to understand how I think and create. She gives me room to experiment, make mistakes, and discover my own style. Only after I finish does she gently guide me back toward the principles of Misho-ryu. She never tells me, “That’s wrong.” Instead, she asks me to look more carefully. I think that is one of the greatest gifts a teacher can give.

Learning Alongside Others

Early ikebana arrangement in an Osaka classroom in December 2010
My ikebana practice in Osaka, December 2010. Looking back, I can see so many things I would adjust now.

One of the things I love most about class is seeing the work of other students. We often use the same flowers, yet every arrangement looks completely different. Some students have been practicing for decades. They can create beautiful traditional forms with a confidence that still amazes me.

Sometimes, if I am honest, I feel a little jealous.

Then I remind myself that the feeling is actually inspiration. Their skill makes me want to practice more. Their generosity makes me want to learn more.

And their stories remind me that ikebana is about people as much as flowers.

The Conversations After Class

Ikebana arrangement with branches and small flowers from 2012
An ikebana arrangement from 2012, early in my years of study.

My favorite part of the day often happens after the arrangement is finished. We sit together and talk.

My teacher points out details I didn’t notice, like a curve in a branch, the way a flower opens, how a leaf changes as it ages. These are small things, but they change how I see nature.

We also talk about everyday life.

After sixteen years, our conversations are no longer only between teacher and student. They are conversations between two people who have shared many seasons together.

A Lifelong Practice

Recent study arrangement at HanaYou Studio in Kyoto
A recent study arrangement at HanaYou Studio in Kyoto.

People sometimes ask why I am still learning ikebana after all these years.

The answer is that ikebana can never really be finished. A flower blooms differently every year. A branch grows in a shape that has never existed before. The materials are always changing, which means the lesson is always changing too. In a way, every arrangement is a once-in-a-lifetime meeting.

But perhaps the biggest reason I continue is this:

Ikebana keeps me creative. It keeps me curious.

And every Thursday, when I step into my teacher’s classroom, it reminds me to keep growing.

As I took the train back to Kyoto this week, I found myself thinking about how lucky I am to still have a teacher who inspires me after all these years.

We often think learning has an end point, but perhaps the most meaningful things in life don’t.

When I teach HanaYou’s Kyoto workshops, I try to carry this same feeling into the room: enough structure to help beginners feel supported, and enough freedom for each person’s arrangement to feel like their own.

So this week, I leave you with a question:

What is something you continue to learn not because you have to, but because it helps you grow?

See you in the next journal entry,

Ryoko