Cracks on a plate. A stain on a couch. A room slightly askew. A wrinkle on a face. For most
of us, these things are to be avoided, replaced, or at the very least, they’re less than desirable.
We turn away from signs of imperfection, of damage, of impermanence. We yearn for the ideals;
the symmetrical and youthful; the timeless and undamaged; the absolute and perfect. Western
tradition wields reason and order as its choice of weapons in the war against the universe. So-called
laws and truths from battles-thought-won hang over its mantel. Ideals burn in its hearth.
But this fire requires constant feeding. And it is always on the brink of burning out—collectively
and individually. For many of us, it already has—the hope that anything may be discovered
or obtained that will make the coldness of the universe go away has been lost. For others of us,
perhaps we’ve been engulfed by the fire, burning ourselves up with relentless desire.
For those looking to better deal with the hot and cold of existence,
who might struggle with impossible goals of perfection, certainty, and permanence,
one idea that is tremendously useful is the Japanese concept known as wabi-sabi.
In the 12th century, a Japanese Buddhist Monk named Nōnin created the first independent Zen
Buddhist school in Japan. This formally introduced ideas and principles from Chan Buddhism to the
Japanese world. Central to Buddhism is the idea that suffering is an inevitable part
of existence. More specifically, suffering arises out of the tension between our desire
and the nature of reality. We desire things like permanence, perfection, and certainty, but the
universe (which we are inextricably apart of) is in constant flux, subject to a process of change,
transience, and imperfection. As a result of Zen’s introduction and development in Japan,
overtime, this transient and imperfect condition of reality would soon be uniquely viewed as an
ally to meditate on and make peace with, rather than an enemy to contend against.
By around the 15th century, two terms would come together to embody this view and become a
central part of Japanese culture, aesthetics, and philosophy: together, these terms are wabi-sabi.
Although there is no direct English translation, wabi-sabi essentially describes the view (or
experiences) where beauty and virtue are found in the impermanent, imperfect, and incomplete.
From an aesthetic point of view, wabi-sabi values what is visually incomplete, worn, damaged,
unsymmetrical, or minimalistic. Artwork that is considered wabi-sabi often emphasizes the process
as opposed to the end result. And moreover, the end result is often maintained and used
past the point in which it still appears fresh, new, or undamaged. Visual artist Richard Powell,
said, "Wabi-sabi nurtures all that is authentic by acknowledging three simple
realities: nothing lasts, nothing is finished, and nothing is perfect.”
For example, a popular style of Japanese pottery that follows the principles of wabi sabi is
known as raku pottery. This style of pottery is often hand-shaped, fired at low temperatures,
and left to cool in the open air, resulting in porous, inconsistent, and uniquely shaped
vessels. This outcome and process intentionally puts an emphasis on simplicity and naturalness.
Another Japanse practice known as kintsugi involves the repairing of broken pottery by
covering the cracked areas with powdered gold, silver, or platinum, mending the vessel back
together. The mended cracks are intentionally left prominent, viewed as beautiful, enhanced
parts of the piece. Through both raku and kintsugi practices, the imperfect and damaged aspects of
the ceramic ware are seen as beautiful, positive portrayals of the natural experience of existence.
From a more philosophical view, mirroring its aesthetics, wabi-sabi values living simply,
finding peace in the temporariness of all things, and embracing what is flawed and incomplete in
nature, life, and oneself. Signs of these things and ways of living in harmony with them represent
a more honest and useful idea of perfection—the perfection of imperfection. For example,
around the 13th to 15th century, Japanese tea ceremonies were popularly used by the ruling
class of Shoguns as a way of displaying wealth, using extravagant ceramic ware
to sip tea inside of lavishly ornamented rooms under a full-moon. In 1488, however,
Zen monk Murata Shuko would redefine the tea ceremony based on principles of wabi-sabi.
It would soon become customary for the tea ceremony to be conducted using simple ceramic
ware produced by Japanese artisans, often using raku or kintsugi practices, and the tea would
be sipped while sitting in minimalistic settings under partial-moons or cloudy
night skies. The Japanese tea ceremony would become a worship of the simple and imperfect.
Although there are seemingly key attributes to things that we find beautiful, there are also
ways of thinking and seeing things that create beauty. Beauty is not merely based on what things
we are perceiving, but how we are perceiving things—a phenomenon contingent on the mind.
If we wish to see more beauty in life, as life really is,
it is thus up to us to do so. Wabi-sabi offers a lens through which we can more easily do this;
a way to more frequently experience beauty in and derive peace from the true conditions of reality.
“Beauty,” writes artist Leonard Koren, “can be coaxed out of ugliness. Wabi-sabi is ambivalent
about separating beauty from non-beauty or ugliness. The beauty of wabi-sabi is
in one respect, the condition of coming to terms with what you consider ugly. Wabi-sabi
suggests that beauty is a dynamic event that occurs between you and something else. Beauty
can spontaneously occur at any moment given the proper circumstances, context, or point of view.
Beauty is thus an altered state of consciousness, an extraordinary moment of poetry and grace.”
There is nothing inherently wrong with continually striving for something closer to perfection,
but in truth, the distance between good and perfect is infinite. Wabi-sabi reminds us to not
depend on ever finally arriving. It reminds us, rather, that the process is part of the results,
that the beauty of things is largely in our mind, and that nothing in nature is perfect,
complete, or permanent. And if nature can’t make it that way, why would we think we can?
On one hand, wabi-sabi refers to and describes an important part of Japanese history and culture;
but on the other, it refers to a philosophical idea and aesthetic experience deeply relevant
to us all. Everything we try will fail in some way. Everything we finish will be some amount
incomplete. Everything we know, everything we cherish, everything that works right now,
will decay, fall apart, and disappear back into nothingness. This is something we all must contend
with. We can thrash against and resist it, which naturally and inevitably, we will. But we can also
try our best, whenever possible, to accept this reality, to find the beauty and virtue within
it. In learning to embrace things as they are, not how we want them to be, in every crack on a plate,
stain on a couch, wrinkle on a face, room slightly askew, we can see beauty, we can see truth,
we can see the oneness of nature that connects all things. In the words of David Foster Wallace:
If you're automatically sure that you know what reality is, and you are operating on
your default setting, then you, like me, probably won't consider possibilities that aren't annoying
and miserable. But if you really learn how to pay attention, then you will know there
are other options. It will actually be within your power to experience . . . situation[s] as
not only meaningful, but sacred, on fire with the same force that made the stars: love, fellowship,
the mystical oneness of all things deep down. Not that that mystical stuff is necessarily true. The
only thing that's capital-T True is that you get to decide how you're gonna try to see it.
Wabi-sabi may not be everyone’s taste. And moreover, arguably,
even for those for whom it is, no one can ever totally embrace imperfection, impermanence,
or incompleteness. But perhaps in our own imperfect abilities to ever fully embrace
imperfection, we are, in a way, nonetheless, still embodying the idea of wabi-sabi perfectly.