Wabi Sabi

by Beth Kempton

  An ex-professor I talked to singled out the appreciation of moss in the garden of an old temple as a time he gets a feeling of wabi sabi . For a taxi-driving saxophonist I met, it is when he plays the blues. For others it was in the context of the tea ceremony.

  It varies from person to person, because we are all moved by different things. But the moment this feeling arises – a knowing, a connection, a reminder of the evanescent and imperfect nature of life itself – then wabi sabi is present.

  The meaning of words often shifts when they are brought into other languages, so if you have been using ‘wabi sabi ’ as an adjective and it helps you treasure imperfection and the simple life, then it’s not something to fret about. The point of this book is not to get caught up in semantics, but rather to extricate life lessons inspired by this wisdom, to soak up the philosophy and be moved by it to change your viewpoint in a way that enhances your life.

  Indeed, it is not to say we cannot use the concept of wabi sabi to inspire the way we arrange our homes to honour simplicity, nature and beauty. We can, and we will go into this in depth in Chapter 2 . But if we pigeonhole wabi sabi simply as a desirable lifestyle or design trend, we miss the real opportunity offered by this deep and intuitive way of experiencing the world.

  One of the most intriguing and simultaneously challenging things about the Japanese language and culture is its layering. Nothing is ever quite as it seems. Everything depends on the context, on who is speaking to whom and what has been left unsaid. If one of the central tenets of ‘imperfection’ is incompleteness, my job here is to paint a rich, yet incomplete picture of wabi sabi , so you can fill in the blanks from your own perspective.

  In some parts of this book, I will speak purely of wabi sabi . In others, I will bring in related concepts from Japan that contribute to a simpler yet richer way of life. Ultimately, I hope you will come to sense the essence of wabi sabi for yourself and welcome it into your own life as inspiration for a new way of beholding the world.

  A gift for us all

  Not long ago, I watched a pair of Japanese high-school students give a presentation on wabi sabi in the USA. At the end, one of the Americans in the audience asked, ‘Do you think anyone can learn wabi sabi ?’ The girls looked at each other, brows crinkled, panicked and unsure. After much deliberation, one of them responded, ‘No. We feel it because we are Japanese.’

  Wabi sabi invites us to be present to beauty with open eyes and an open heart.

  I disagree. Wabi sabi is a deeply human response to beauty which I believe we all have the capacity to experience, if only we better attune ourselves to it.

  My perspective on wabi sabi will always be in the context of my own world view, which is based in a Western upbringing, heavily influenced by a twenty-year love affair with Japan. Your perspective will differ from mine and, if you have the opportunity to talk to a Japanese person about it, their perspective will be different again. But therein lies the beauty, and largely the point – it is in taking inspiration from other cultures and interpreting it in the context of our own lives that we excavate the wisdom we most need.

  How is wabi sabi relevant today?

  We are living in a time of brain-hacking algorithms, pop-up propaganda and information everywhere. From the moment we wake up, to the time we stumble into bed, we are fed messages about what we should look like, wear, eat and buy, how much we should be earning, who we should love and how we should parent. Many of us probably spend more time thinking about other people’s lives than investing in our own. Add to this the pace at which we are encouraged to function, and it’s no wonder so many of us are feeling overwhelmed, insecure, untethered and worn out.

  What’s more, we are surrounded by bright, artificial light, in our homes, shops and offices, on our phones and laptops. We are overstimulated and obsessed with productivity. It’s playing havoc with our nervous systems and ability to sleep. We are paying the price of having banished the calming shadows and rich texture from our lives, in favour of speed and efficiency. Our eyes and hearts are weary.

  We give away freely that most precious of resources – our attention – and in doing so, we cheat ourselves out of the gifts that are already here.

  While powerful and valuable in many ways, social media is turning us into comparison addicts and validation junkies. We interrupt precious life moments to take a picture and post it, then spend the next hour checking how much approval we have received from people we hardly even know. Any time we have a spare minute, out comes the phone and down go the eyes, as we scroll our way into someone else’s highly styled life, the jealousy bubbling, as we make the assumption that they actually live like that. Every time we do this, we miss unknowable opportunities for connection, serendipity and everyday adventure in our own lives, for the mind has gone somewhere the body cannot follow.

  Many of us can’t make a move without stressing about what others will think. We sit in line waiting for permission from somebody else, all the while worrying about things that haven’t yet happened. We tell ourselves stories about our limits, downplaying where we measure up and overplaying where we fall down.

  When we dare to imagine following our dreams, we are surrounded by so many manicured images of success we start wondering whether there’s any room left for us. Countless broken dreams lie scattered across the world for no reason other than someone compared themselves to someone else and thought, ‘I am not good enough.’ The upshot of this crisis of confidence is, at best, inertia.

  Somewhere along the line, someone started a rumour that happiness lies in the accumulation of things, money, power and status, all the while looking young, pretty and skinny, or young, handsome and strong. But when we measure our lives with other people’s yardsticks, opening ourselves up to the tyranny of ‘should’, we put ourselves under immense pressure to achieve, and do and own stuff we don’t really care about. This desire for more affects our behaviour, our decision making and the way we feel about ourselves – not to mention the impact on our planet. Whatever we have or become, it’s not enough, or so we are led to believe.

  And here’s the real irony. What we outwardly push for is often very different to what we inwardly long for. We have come to a point where we need to pause, take a look around and decide for ourselves what really matters. Wabi sabi can help us do this, which makes this centuries-old teaching more relevant than ever today.

  A new way

  What we need right now is a new way of seeing the world, and our place within it.

  We need new approaches to life’s challenges. We need tools for intentional and conscious living and a framework for deciding what really matters to us, so we can move on from the constant desire for more, better, best. We need to find ways to slow down, so life does not rush right past us. We need to start noticing more beauty to lift our spirits, and keep us inspired. We need to give ourselves permission to let go of judgement and the endless pursuit of perfection. And we need to start seeing each other – and ourselves – for the perfectly imperfect treasures that we are.

  All this, that we so desperately need, can be found in the philosophy of wabi sabi . Not because it solves the surface problems, but because it can fundamentally shift the way we see life itself. Wabi sabi teaches us to be content with less, in a way that feels like more:

  Less stuff, more soul. Less hustle, more ease. Less chaos, more calm.

  Less mass consumption, more unique creation.

  Less complexity, more clarity. Less judgement, more forgiveness. Less bravado, more truth.

  Less resistance, more resilience. Less control, more surrender.

  Less head, more heart.

  Wabi sabi represents a precious cache of wisdom that values tranquillity, harmony, beauty and imperfection, and can strengthen our resilience in the face of modern ills.

  Letting go of what you think should be does not mean giving up on what could be.

  Importantly, accepting imperfection doesn’t mean having to lower standards or drop out of
life. It means not judging yourself for being who you are: perfectly imperfect – at once uniquely you and just like the rest of us.

  Put simply, wabi sabi gives you permission to be yourself. It encourages you to do your best but not make yourself ill in pursuit of an unattainable goal of perfection. It gently motions you to relax, slow down and enjoy your life. And it shows you that beauty can be found in the most unlikely of places, making every day a doorway to delight.

  G iven Japan’s mountainous nature, with forests, fields and agricultural land covering some 80 per cent of the country, 1 it’s no surprise that the nation’s urban areas are crowded. Tōkyō has a population of over 13 million, 2 with more than six thousand people per square kilometre. 3 As a result the Japanese have become masters of small-space architecture and styling.

  Personal space is limited and, in recent years, clutter has become as much of a challenge for Japanese people as it has for many of us in other nations. Perhaps this is why they have become so adept at organisation and storage, why Muji (literally, ‘no label’) is a high-street favourite and why Marie Kondō is a household name. However, don’t be fooled into thinking that most Japanese people now live in tatami -matted rooms 4 devoid of stuff. They don’t. While the overall concept of minimalism has had a transformative impact for many, it can end up being another kind of perfection. It’s one more opportunity to beat yourself up for not doing something right, and frankly, it’s exhausting.

  Perhaps you’re like me. You like the philosophy of minimalism and have entertained dreams of a perfectly tidy home, but found that disciplined minimalism doesn’t really work for you because you have children/pets/a hectic lifestyle/a weird fetish for antique teapots/more books than your local library or some other reason that makes you run from perfectly organised sock drawers. Or perhaps you rent and are limited in terms of how you are allowed to alter your living space. Or maybe you are on a tight budget and think that a welcoming home is for people with more disposable income. Or maybe you are just busy, and it feels like such an effort to go through everything. If any of this sounds familiar, the alternative ‘soulful simplicity’ might just be for you.

  ‘Soulful simplicity’ is my name for decluttering and styling your home with love, without making it clinically minimal or trying too hard. It’s a way of organising and personalising your space, which makes your home welcoming and beautiful, while still feeling lived in.

  A wabi sabi lens can inspire us to embrace soulful simplicity and treasure what we already have.

  There is a lovely phrase in Japanese, igokochi ga yoi ( ). The kanji 5 literally mean ‘being here-heart-place-good’, and it is used to describe a feeling of comfort, of feeling at home. I like to think of it as a place for a happy heart. That’s what we want to create with soulful simplicity.

  Your home, your space

  The spaces in which we live influence the way in which we live, and how we feel as we go about our daily lives. If we want to live differently, changing our environment, and the details of our living spaces, can play a major role in making a shift. Our homes can be sanctuaries, gathering places, repositories of love and laughter, solitude and rest. They can be grounding, comforting, inspiring and relaxing. Our homes are where our stories are written, and they have the potential to enhance our experience of the every day.

  A wabi-sabi- inspired home: lived in, loved and never quite finished

  The beauty of ‘soulful simplicity’ is that it can help us make any dwelling – regardless of size or budget – a lovely place to be. This comes as a relief to those of us who swoon over design magazines and lose hours on Pinterest and Instagram, but have the niggling feeling that our homes will never quite look like that. Wabi sabi reminds us that they are not supposed to look like that. Homes are for living in, and living is not a perfectly tidy affair. The good news is that the chaos of real life, edited a little, can reveal a lot. Most of us already have the makings of a welcoming space. With just a little time and attention, your home can become a sanctuary reflecting what really matters to you.

  Taking inspiration from the traditional tea room – the embodiment of wabi sabi – we can envision a clean, simple, uncluttered space. It’s about deciding what to retain and what to release, what to show and what to store, what to tinker with and what to treasure.

  You don’t need to wait for the perfect time – when you have the money to redecorate, when your children have left home or when you finally have time to sort every drawer and cupboard. You can begin today, right where you are. This is not a set of rules; it’s a set of ideas and questions for you to consider in order to do it your way.

  The emotional connection

  The truth is many of us have houses filled with clutter, even though we don’t like it. We buy stuff when we don’t need it. We tell ourselves we really should get everything in order, and then we switch on the TV instead. Over the years in my work with people trying to make major life changes, decluttering has always been a significant part of their journey. As they begin to release more and more stuff, they begin to notice the releasing of negative thought patterns, feelings of insufficiency, allegiances to busyness, attachments to past versions of themselves and desires for a life that is not connected to who they are or what they really value. This is where wabi sabi really comes in.

  Soulful simplicity makes for contented sufficiency.

  When you realise you are perfectly imperfect just as you are, you have less need for ‘stuff’ to boost your self-image. Ultimately, soulful simplicity in your home is about you and the experience you want to create for yourself, your family and your friends. This is about tuning into what you love and making space for authentic inspiration. It’s about what pulls you in. It’s about quality, depth and choice. And it’s about putting your judgement to one side, and focusing on what you can do with what you already have.

  A wabi-sabi -inspired home is a restful space that welcomes guests and nourishes family life. It’s a place for treasured things that carry love and evoke memories, not just new things bought on impulse. There is no right or wrong. It’s unpretentious styling, done in a perfectly imperfect way.

  Later in this chapter, I will introduce some tips for decluttering and soulfully simplifying your space in a wabi-sabi -inspired way. But first, let’s take a look at the notion of Japanese beauty that lies beneath it all.

  Making beauty

  If you were to put your nose against the glass and peer through the window of the old shed studio, you might see Makiko Hastings at her potter’s wheel, sitting on a wooden chair flecked with slip and marked with the ghostly fingerprints of an artisan at work. You’d notice her shoulders rise and fall in gentle rhythm as she ushers the clay into shape. On the shelves behind her, you’d see rows of drying pieces, each handcrafted with love and her innate sense of beauty.

  I first came to know Makiko’s work seven years ago, when I bought a set of the bird-shaped chopstick rests she made to raise funds for victims of the Great East Japan Earthquake back in 2011. In all, she made over a thousand ceramic birds, to support the residents of the town of Minamisanriku which was 70 per cent destroyed by the tsunami that followed the earthquake. Makiko has had her own share of challenges over the years, but she has come out the other side with a deep appreciation for her family, and for her creativity.

  These days, Makiko crafts each of her pieces with individual care, for her online shop 6 and trade customers. Asked about her aesthetic choices, she explains how simplicity in one area allows for detail in another. One example is a set of dinner plates she was recently commissioned to make for the head chef of a local restaurant. Unusually flat, they have an exquisite cobalt glaze which varies slightly from plate to plate, giving each diner a unique visual experience of their food.

  Beyond her consideration of the form, decoration and colour, Makiko sees her plates as a receptacle not just for food, but also for memories. Crucially, she believes that the customer completes the beauty of each piece by using and treasuring it
. And therein lies a crucial observation: Japanese beauty is discovered in the experiencing, not just the seeing.

  Deconstructing Japanese beauty

  There is no single agreed set of terms to define Japanese beauty, so I have curated the most popular ideas with the aim of making it easily translatable into your life. On the surface of Japanese beauty there is taste (the visual); beneath it is flavour (the experience).

  Consider for a moment some of the things we might associate with beauty in Japan: the striking elegance of a maiko 7 in her sumptuous chartreuse silk kimono , paired with an intricately embroidered scarlet obi , 8 the chic look of a smart Tōkyō-ite, the artfulness of a single camellia in an ash-glazed Hagi-yaki 9 vase or the simplicity of a traditional tatami mat room. How are all these views of Japan – so different in style, colour, texture, pattern and complexity – part of the same aesthetic construct? It all comes down to taste.

  The beauty on the surface

  If we were to mark out the key types of Japanese taste on a spectrum it would look something like this:

  Hade ( ) Showy, gaudy, liberal. A bright kimono , bejewelled nails, high-colour manga characters. The colours can be anything from primaries through to neon.

  Iki ( ) Chic, stylish, worldly and sophisticated. The appearance of being effortlessly cool (although it may have taken some effort); think sharp suits and sophisticated officewear, confident use of colour.

  Shibui ( ) Sometimes translated as austere, subdued, subtle or restrained, although ‘to the Japanese the word is more complex, suggesting quietness, depth, simplicity and purity’. 10 In recent times, shibui has come to mean something closer to quietly cool, well-designed, understated style. In terms of colours, it suggests dark, rich and deep, often with some neutrals and a hint of a dusty accent colour, like the palette of a hydrangea. 11