There's No Wabi Sabi Here

In our mechanized and computerized lives, it's easy to forget that we are in fact part of the natural world.  The objective behind wabi sabi is to bring us back to our roots, to nature, and the sense of peace that it could impart to our lives."  
--James Crowely, author


        I sat on a park bench today admiring the autumn leaves, as kids played tag on a nearby playground.  I looked down and inspected the wood of the bench.  It hadn't been repaired in a while.  It was split here and there, and whatever paint and finish had been applied to it, was long gone.  In fact, winter rains and hundred-degree summers, as well as the friction from thousands of butts sitting down and getting up over the years, weathered the wood rather beautifully.

        With that bench, what appears to be dangerously splintered, misshapen wood is, in fact, quite smooth to the touch, even "polished" in some places.  It was an example of the Japanese aesthetic of wabi sabi, where weathered, frequently-used items are valued for their unique beauty and character.   I guess Western interpretations of this aesthetic might be the "shabby chic" furniture popular years ago, or "acid-washed" jeans, and the like.

        My being a child of Western culture, and my mother being a child of Eastern culture as she was, resulted in my mother and I often having funny misunderstandings about the oddest things.  Despite her efforts to fit in here, the underlying Buddhist aesthetics of her upbringing in rural Japan, such as wabi sabi, never left her.


       The concept of wabi sabi originated in the Chan Buddhism of China which later evolved into the Zen Buddhism of Japan.  Its core belief is impermanence, that things will always change and age, and could be accepted and appreciated every step of the way.  It is an aesthetic which encourages people to appreciate the unique, natural features of a person, place or thing, what we in America might call its imperfections.

Household Culture Shock 

Years ago, Japanese performers
didn't really "fix" their teeth much.  
Things are more Westernized in
Japan now, and disturbingly perfect, 
capped teeth are more the norm with 
performers there, as in America.

        I didn't understand any of this when I was growing up.  My mom was "old school" Japanese, raised in a backwater country village (the area is now part of a large, metropolitan city, from what I understand, and the village long-gone of course).  No modern, city life sentiments for her.

        Often, I found that living with her was like living with "Mr. Miyagi" from the movie, Karate Kid, or "Yoda" from Star Wars.  When I least expected it, my most mundane, thoughtless gestures would sometimes receive a litany of Confucian-esque aphorisms from her.

         Once, I looked disgustedly at the covers of my mother's Japanese popular magazines and I exclaimed, "Those are famous actresses?  Actresses in America would never let their teeth look like that.  Couldn't they afford to get their teeth fixed?  They're all crooked!"

        My mother replied, "Imperfections on the face show unique character."  Pointing to a magazine cover, she said, "Her teeth, though imperfect, are unique to her.  In Japan, people are not so quick to get everything 'fixed' like people are here in America, especially when nothing's wrong in the first place."

        On another occasion, my mother stopped me from scooping up several withered flower petals from beneath a flower arrangement she had placed on the kitchen table.  I intended to throw them away, but she stopped me, saying, "No, leave them there.  They're part of the arrangement."

        "But they're dead, Mom.  They're just all over the table messing up the arrangement," I protested, puzzled.

        "Yes, death is a part of life," Yoda-mom calmly explained. "The dead belong in the arrangement, as much as the living do."

       

All-American Mantra

        Clearly, my mom and I were coming from two very different perspectives. "Buy a new one.  Get an upgrade" is the unspoken yet evident, pervasive, consumerism-driven mantra I had been raised with here in America.  In America, if you own a perfectly good house, you still "buy up" to get a newer, bigger house in a newer, nicer neighborhood ...though nothing was wrong with your old house and neighborhood.  You just do.  If you own a car, you "buy up" to a nicer, faster car, with more features, despite nothing being wrong with your old car.  You likewise "buy up" with all your electronics, appliances, and clothing, even if you need none of it.

        And some divorced women here might say the same goes for them, as the husbands they stuck with through college years and career growth hit mid-life and did "buy ups," unceremoniously replacing them with younger, shapelier wives.  "Buy a new one.  Get an upgrade."  It's the American mahamantra.  Sorry Mom, death is not "a part of life" here, far from it.  Immortality could be purchased and enjoyed...for a while.

Wabi Sabi People

The "old, venerable couple" in 
Japanese fairy tales often raises
a magical child, who grows up to
do great things that benefit society
in some way.

       A pair of stock characters in Japanese folk tales is "the old, venerable couple."  They are ubiquitous to almost every Japanese fairytale, even in traditional Noh and Kabuki theater.  They are these grey-haired, benevolent elderly people with mysterious magical powers they use in some way to enlighten the other characters in the story.

        Sometimes they're even personifications of gods who have concealed themselves in human form.  They, too, are an example of wabi sabi --aged, weathered humans offering inner beauty and wisdom to the world.  In Japan, they remind people that we should accept and appreciate how beautifully we age.

        But there's no appreciation for wabi sabi here.  To an American, "aging beautifully" is an utterly unacceptable oxymoron.  If someone told them they're aging beautifully, some might even consider it a concealed insult.  There's nothing beautiful about aging here, and no one cares about any inner "magic" you may have.  When you age here, you're expected to fight it:

A recent photo of 70-year-old
New York stylist Patricia Field.  
The American obsession with
youthfulness can get frighten-
ing, sometimes.

        You get dentures to substitute what teeth you don't have, and you bleach and cap what teeth you do have, even if nothing's wrong with them.  You inject your wrinkles with botox poison to smooth them out.  You nip and tuck your pudgy waistline to make it smaller, or at least wear the tighest girdle you could tolerate.

        Here, you air brush color onto your pale skin, no matter how old you are, but especially if you're getting older.  Then you follow up by applying bleach creme to lighten your age spots.  You top all that off with sewn on, or otherwise applied synthetic or human hair, covering whatever thinning, grey hair you have left on your head.  Aging is something you fight, and you fight hard!

        Here, not only do you throw away all the withered petals you find beneath your flower arrangements, but you kick yourself for not buying silk flowers in the first place ...they'll never die, and you could always "buy up" to bigger, prettier silk flowers once you tire of the old ones.  And you will tire of the old ones; we always do.

        I thought of these things -rapid fire- as the beautiful autumn leaves slowly floated to the ground around me.  The most wabi sabi I'll ever encounter here, I thought to myself, is this old, weathered bench.







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