Wabi-sabi

A few years ago I discovered this wabi-sabi photo in a magazine ad. Or rather, a photo that is such a good example of the essense of this approach to life. 

As is the case with many important things, I cannot remember exactly how I got to know wabi-sabi. I think Matilda told me about an article that she came across. Nevertheless, we discovered a name and a whole philosophy for the way we thought about and looked at life and things.

Wabi-sabi, being Japanese in origin, is difficult to define exactly. It consists of two words (obviously!) that at first had meanings separate from each other. These meanings changed over centuries so that we now have wabi – which says humble and simple - and sabi – saying rusty and weathered. This gradually flowed into one stream to form a single mind-set with roots closely associated with the Japanese tea ceremony.

In fourteenth century Japan the upper classes developed elaborate, ostentatious style tearooms and rituals where they showed off their numerous Chinese-style utensils and decorations. Gradually however, in an act of quiet defiance and under the influence of a number of tea masters, a different tea ritual developed. Understated, locally produced utensils and everyday items were used. It provided a tranquil space where the participants could fully focus their attention on each other, on the pleasure of the simple act itself and appreciate natural beauty. Amidst the flavour of tea and the ordinary, wabi-sabi came to be.

The tea ceremony encapsulates that which lies at the heart of wabi-sabi. Robyn Griggs Lawrence in his book The wabi-sabi house. The Japanese art of imperfect beauty puts it this way:

“In learning tea, we’re constantly reminded that every meeting is a once-in-a-lifetime occasion to enjoy good company, beautiful art and a cup of tea. We never know what might happen tomorrow, or even later today. Stopping whatever it is that’s so important (dishes, bill paying, work deadlines) to share conversation and a cup of tea with someone you love – or might love – is an easy opportunity to promote peace. It is from this place of peace, harmony and fellowship that the true wabi-sabi spirit emerges.”

 A beautiful example of Jean-Pierre de Caussade’s “the sacrament of the present moment”.

Wabi-sabi is thus about finding beauty in things imperfect, appreciating things incomplete and impermanent. It finds joy in noticing something or someone forgotten or previously overlooked – the ordinary becomes rich, the different angle or unconventional valued. “Wabi-sabi is about the minor and the hidden, the tentative and the ephemeral: things so subtle and evanescent they are invisible to vulgar eyes” (Leonard Koren in: Wabi-sabi for Artists, Designers, Poets & Philosophers). Accepting the natural cycle of growth, decay and death it has the ability to look past the sadness of wear and decay and see character and a subtle kind of value. To the wabi-sabi eye there is beauty in cracks and chips and signs of use. It celebrates the simple and the authentic. You have to slow down to experience wabi-sabi – it cannot be done on the run.

Maybe it is better to show wabi-sabi rather than try to explain it. After all, the rational mind is not that comfortable with it.

In December last year Matilda posted a piece What is Real? It is so wabi-sabi that I’m using it again:

“What is Real?” asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. “Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick out handle?”

“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but really loves you, then you become Real.”

“Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit.

“Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful, “When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.”

“Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,” he asked, “or bit by bit?”

“It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”

(Margery Williams: The Velveteen Rabbit) 

In his song Anthem Leonard Cohen sings:

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in.

Some of Matilda's and my tools and utensils,  a kitchen table used by my grandparents, the cobble stones leading to Matilda's front door:

  

I am growing in my conviction that we, as rational Westerners, can learn so much from the East. The way wabi-sabi deepens and enriches my understanding of the incarnation confirms that.

George