Can Wabi-Sabi Save the World?

“Can what save the world?”

“Wabi-sabi! You know, that Japanese aesthetic sense kind of thing.”

Please forgive yourself if you’ve not yet heard of wabi-sabi. It certainly doesn’t come up in conversation every day, or even every year for that matter, so asking whether it can save the world might stretch the imagination a bit. Let me begin, then, by considering how a few different authors define wabi-sabi:

“It is a beauty of things imperfect, impermanent, and incomplete. It is a beauty of things modest and humble. It is a beauty of things unconventional.” Leonard Koren (1994)

“[It] is the Japanese art of finding beauty in imperfection and profundity in nature, of accepting the natural cycle of growth, decay, and death. It’s simple, slow, and uncluttered — and it reveres authenticity above all.” Robyn Griggs Lawrence (2004)

“It finds beauty and harmony in what is simple, imperfect, natural, modest, and mysterious. It can be a little dark, but it is also warm and comfortable. It may best be understood as a feeling, rather than an idea.” Mark Reibstein (2008)

Certainly these descriptions take us a long way toward understanding wabi-sabi. But what is wabi? And what is sabi? Perhaps if we knew the difference, our understanding would be complete. One caveat, though, the distinction between the two is not eminently clear. That notwithstanding, even a fumbling attempt at distinguishing the two will go a long way toward bringing clarity to their hyphenated union. Let’s begin with sabi.

A close reading of the definitions above reveals that the beauty to be found in imperfection is the only feature common to them all. According to Suzuki (1959, p. 24), “When this beauty of imperfection is accompanied by antiquity or primitive uncouthness, we have a glimpse of sabi.” Sabi may be present in natural as well as human-crafted things. A gnarled tree growing out of a rocky outcropping whispers to us of sabi, as does an unselfconsciously maintained old shed. For crafted objects to possess sabi, however, they must unpretentiously marry art with utility, all the while conveying a sense of seemingly effortless creation.

In addition to imperfect, primitive, and unpretentious, some other adjectives associated with sabi are: asymmetrical, austere, authentic, desiccated, desolate, incomplete, irregular, modest, obscure, rustic, simple, uncontrived, unconventional, worn, weathered, and withered. More than merely pertaining to physical appearances, however, sabi also encompasses the feelings that might be evoked or conveyed by an object or landscape — feelings such as serenity, tranquility, and solitude; or perhaps even chilliness, numbness, or loneliness. It is in this area that sabi and wabi begin to become indistinguishable.

The key to differentiating wabi from sabi is to keep in mind that sabi generally refers to the objective realm, whereas wabi generally refers to that which is subjective and personal (Iwamoto, 2008). For example, we might look at the weathered door of a simple abode and say to ourselves: “Ah, sabi!” On the other hand, it is the one who dwells within that simple abode that is most likely to know the essence of wabi.

According to Suzuki (1959, p. 23), “To be poor, that is, not to be dependent on things worldly — wealth, power, and reputation — and yet to feel inwardly the presence of something of the highest value, above time and social position: this is what essentially constitutes wabi.” Suzuki refers to this essence as “poverty” — a rather unfortunate translation for us Westerners, given the fact that we are generally hard-pressed to find any redeeming qualities in poverty as it is usually defined. The poverty that is the essence of wabi, however, involves a shift in values or outlook — the embrace of a different aesthetic — without which the poverty that Suzuki refers to would merely amount to indigence and deprivation (Suzuki, 1959, p. 284). Thus, we can see why Varley (1984, p. 143) has noted that “of all the terms in traditional aesthetics, wabi is the most difficult to define.”

Wabi is closely related to the practice of Zen. Through Zen meditation, and the subsequent realization of emptiness (sunyata), aspects of the self become diminished, or fall away altogether, and the sufficiency of our present circumstances becomes realized. No longer beholden to ideas of wealth, power, and reputation, we can appreciate what the present moment offers, without regard for whether or how another might find these circumstances lacking. The cultivation of Zen practice, then, may help facilitate the truest realization of wabi.

So, can wabi-sabi save the world? In this age of discontent, in this age of disposable everything, in this age in which material wealth seems to be the measure of all things, can we come to know the sufficiency of a mended coat, a chipped mug, or a refurbished household item? Can we enjoy a cup of tea and conversation with good friends in lieu of a night out on the town, or a fancy weekend getaway?

We are awash in stuff: stuff to make us feel good, stuff to fill our empty places, stuff to ease our workload, stuff to give us a good workout, stuff to fill the quiet spaces, stuff to facilitate peace and quiet, stuff to show everyone else our uniqueness, and stuff to be just like everyone else. We collect stuff until such time as we begin to chafe under its weight and clutter, and then we sell it, give it, or throw it away, thereby making way for new stuff. Yes, it is new stuff that is most enticing to us. New stuff makes life easier than it was before, and with our newfound extra time we’re able to do more, enjoy more, and have more stuff.

I recently learned that personal consumption accounts for about seventy percent of the U.S. gross domestic product. To the extent that much of this consumption is made possible by fossil fuels, we can definitely consider our personal consumption to be a major contributor to global climate change. Thus, if we learn to really appreciate the beauty and richness of wabi-sabi when we see it, perhaps we will find it even easier to reduce, reuse, and repurpose, thereby diminishing that which might otherwise need to be recycled. Can wabi-sabi save the world? I think it just might be our only chance.

Image of barn wood taken by the author

Can Wabi-Sabi Save the World? is adapted from one originally published on Crossing Nebraska.

References

Iwamoto, H, (2008). Japanese aesthetic sense through Zen. The World Sacred Text Publishing Association, Tokyo.

Koren, L. (1994). Wabi-Sabi: For artists, designers, poets & philosophers. Stone Bridge Press.

Lawrence, R. G. (2004). The wabi-sabi house: The Japanese art of imperfect beauty. Published by Clarkson Potter. Excerpt accessed June 12, 2012 via: http://nobleharbor.com/tea/chado/WhatIsWabi-Sabi.htm

Reibstein, M., Young, E. (2008). Wabi Sabi. Little, Brown and Company. Hachette Book Group, USA.

Suzuki, D. T. (1959). Zen and Japanese culture. Published by MJF Books by arrangement with Princeton University Press.

Varley, H. P. (1984). Japanese culture: Third edition. University of Hawaii Press.