Hidden Flowers: A Memoir

by Keiko Honda

Overview

Single mother. Japanese-Canadian. Empty-nester. Immigrant. Artist. Scientist. Wheelchair user. Community organizer. Survivor. Many words can accurately describe Keiko Honda, yet no one word or phrase fully encompasses the complex identity and fascinating life of this remarkable woman. Grappling with emptiness, loneliness, and the challenges of aging following her daughter’s departure for university, Keiko faces a new phase in her life—a life that has been filled with amazing achievements and debilitating setbacks—through deep introspection and reflection-in-action.

This memoir is an exploration of shifting identity, transition, artistic expression, and community building. It investigates the forces of attachment, belonging, cultural expectations, and the intricate dance between tradition and modernity. It reminds us of the transformative power of art and its ability to bring people together, especially in an era when isolation is epidemic. Illustrated throughout with Keiko’s watercolour paintings, ranging from moody landscapes to family and pet portraits to semi-abstract scenes of modern life, Hidden Flowers is an inspiring journey that will bolster the spirits of anyone who is experiencing a difficult transition in life or looking for a creative outlet.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781772035605
Publisher:	Heritage Group Distribution
Publication date:	10/21/2025
Pages:	288
Product dimensions:	5.00(w) x 7.00(h) x 0.00(d)

About the Author

Keiko Honda is a scientist, writer, community organizer, and painter. She holds a PhD in international community health from New York Universityand had a research career at Columbia University, which was interrupted when she suddenly contracted a rare autoimmune disease that confined her to a wheelchair for life. After moving to Vancouver in 2009, Honda began hosting artist salons, for which she was awarded the City of Vancouver’s Remarkable Women Award in 2014. Shortly thereafter, she founded the Vancouver Arts Colloquium Society to bridge generations and cultures through the arts and to offer members of marginalized communities opportunities for artistic self-discovery. She teaches the aesthetics of co-creation in the Liberal Arts and 55+ Program at Simon Fraser University.

Read an Excerpt

Foreword

In my debut memoir, Accidental Blooms, I described inventing—perhaps it was more a process of discovering—a kind of 'rebirth' for myself, following a sudden crisis that left me paralyzed from the chest down. I was immersed in a process of transformation through encounters with new people and experiences. In that narrative, my emerging identity, my work, and my role as a mother all revolved around my newborn daughter, Maya. It resembled a dance in which I was following an invisible partner, until I began to learn to choreograph my own steps. 

This new memoir starts where the first one ended, when I was guiding Maya through the process of applying to university, and fearing the day I would lose her. This new work explores uncharted territory, probing the complexities of navigating intergenerational cultural challenges, nurturing a new romantic relationship that is both passionate and platonic, and forging a new legacy through the act of creation. 

The title, Hidden Flowers, is an aesthetic metaphor that encapsulates the essence of Zeami Motoyoshi's book Fushikaden. It is rooted in Zeami's teachings on the power of indirection and subtlety in creating a deep artistic experience at precisely the ripest moment. As I write in the chapter "Reflection in Action," I hope that readers will find some value in my—sometimes chaotic—journey and discover the transformative power of this metaphor in both art and life.

Prologue

The sinking crimson sun inflamed the water, firing deep-gold shafts that played across the surface of the sea. They swam against the deep blue of the reflected sky; then, they flickered out, one by one, into the water. The sun was suddenly underwater, and the sea transformed in an instant, into a dark blue fabric, as if the sun had been an illusion.

My daughter was leaving home – leaving me. Or maybe my role as a mother and guide was leaving me, and she was just following the natural forces that govern the human condition, the forces that I also followed. I comforted myself by watching the changing light of the sea.

One evening, a harvest moon appeared. It lightly roused its own reflection from the dark surface of the water. The light swelled and danced, but then it would hide behind clouds for a moment and, like smoke, would disappear. Many stars, perhaps my ancestors, seemed pregnant with stories to tell. If they were trying to tell me something, how should I listen?

My daughter's leaving was a completely unprecedented and unnerving experience for me. Each night, after sunset, I would try to make sense of that day's thoughts, emotions, and events. Those nights formed a year of searching through what initially felt mostly like darkness. Yet, surprisingly, the nights were not tedious. And I began to feel that my daughter was illuminating me in ways I had never imagined.