Just before the triple disaster on March 11th 2011 I made an ikebana arrangement featuring sakura (cherry blossom) branches.

The devastating earthquake at 14:46 on that day triggered a deadly tsunami taking more than 20,000 lives in one wave and the following explosion at the nuclear plant in Fukushima left Japan reeling. We were terrified by endless aftershocks and distracted by where to buy uncontaminated water and (of course) toilet paper.

Those little sakura branches lay forgotten in a bucket of water on our terrace for months. And when the earth had settled enough for us to finally get life in order, I realized that the branches were still sitting there. The blossoms had long since disappeared and in their place, bright green waxy leaves had sprouted.  Underneath the water, the branch had grown thick white roots.

Fast forward nine years and one of those little branches is now a tree that blossoms every year. It sprouts the same waxy leaves in the summer and turns golden in the Autumn. After dropping its crisp leaves in the winter, within a matter of days tiny pink buds appear. The cycle is seamlessly endless.

It feels like the world is in a similar place again. This time, a slowly unfurling disaster of epic proportions. But I know we can endure if we all work together. How can I be so sure? The sakura told me so.