The tea ceremony itself is an example of how wabi-sabi manifests itself in Japanese culture. Those very odd, very wabi-sabi lessons are some of my favorite memories of working in Japan. Shoko’s pronunciation improved over the summer, though in general conversation she still couldn’t hit that “th” quite right. The city shrieked below us, and occasionally our lessons were cut short by political dissidents who assembled with microphones and loudspeakers in the courtyard outside the classroom building.
I supplied endless lessons about how the tongue hits the teeth when forming the “th” sound. She supplied coffee, a digital voice recorder, and two copies of a little book about the traditional Japanese tea ceremony. In the summer of 2004, a Tokyo housewife named Shoko paid me to sit with her two afternoons a week and help her practice English pronunciation. I’m reminded of the classic children’s story, The Velveteen Rabbit, in which only the oldest, shabbiest, and most well-loved toys in a child’s collection magically become “real.” At the heart of being sabi is the idea of authenticity. However, things described as “sabi” carry their age with dignity and grace.
Sabi by itself refers to the natural progression of time, and carries with it an understanding that all things will grow old and become less conventionally beautiful. Think Henry David Thoreau, or, more recently, “Cadillac Man,” who wrote recently in the New York Times about the simple joys and freedoms of his many years spent homeless in several of New York’s boroughs. A wabibito – literally, a “wabi person” – can do more with less, and is content with a life lived free of material possessions. Wabi, stemming from the root “wa,” which refers to harmony and tranquility, has evolved in meaning from describing something sad and desolate to describing something that is purposely humble and in tune with nature. The words wabi and sabi were not always linked, and they can still be used separately in the Japanese language. The best way to learn about wabi-sabi is just to accept that it’s there – and to begin noticing examples of it in one’s daily life. Put simply, it’s an intuitive way of living that emphasizes finding beauty in imperfection, and accepting the natural cycle of growth and decay. It’s also a phrase that doesn’t translate directly from Japanese into English, and the ideas behind it may not immediately translate in the minds of those who haven’t encountered it before. It’s a concept, an aesthetic, and a worldview.
0 kommentar(er)
