Whether to Wabi or Sabi

"You can't really say what is beautiful about a place, but the image of the place will remain vividly with you."—Tadao Ando

Wabi-sabi is a Japanese aesthetic philosophy. It revolves around three central thoughts—everything is: imperfect, impermanent and incomplete. Seven Stoners can use this philosophy to accept that they can design a better life, without the plan being perfect. They can appreciate the exploration and the process of working their plan. There is nobility in trying, sense of triumph in all endeavors that are heartily pursued. Wabi-sabi celebrates the simplicity, the profound elements of nature and natural causes. It is imperfect and asymmetrical, like a tree, yet elegant, long-lasting and beautiful. It's the difference between a 300-year-old Japanese garden and a pre-fab Tiki bar. It's the difference between the heavy wooden bench in your grandma's kitchen, battered with gouges, stains and cracks; and stackable plastic chairs. It's Grace Kelly vs. Kelly Kelly. Beauty is radiant and tactile, not airbrushed. But this is a western rendition of the term.

Some Japanese differ with the rather symbiotic western definition of wabi-sabi, arguing that the terms are mushed together because they sound good as a pair, like zig-zag or Steve and Edie. Wabi and sabi are distinct terms. Wabi-sabi is a composite of two concepts: wabi—which is a quietness attuned with nature in a simple despondence, an ascetic, monastic lifestyle; and sabi—which is the withered beauty that attends age, like a patina, chill and solitude. Both terms are better translated to describe feelings, rather than objects. To some, wabi and sabi together evoke a reverent austerity, wisdom, an appreciation for what is known to be good, rather than a longing for what may be missing. A respect for authenticity and a shedding of accouterments.

To a Japanese, wabi-sabi is described as more of an inexplicable feeling than a physical trait. According to Tim Wong, Ph.D. and Akiko Hirano, Ph.D, "Westerners
tend to associate wabi-sabi with physical characteristics—imperfection, crudeness, an aged and weathered look, etc. Although wabi—sabi may encompass these qualities, these characteristics are neither sufficient nor adequate to convey the essence of the concept.

Wabi-sabi is not rigidly attached to a list of physical traits. Rather, it is a profound aesthetic consciousness that transcends appearance. It can be felt but rarely verbalized, much less defined. Defining wabi-sabi in physical terms is like explaining the taste of a piece of chocolate by its shape and color to someone who has never tasted it." Martin Mull said, “Writing about music is like dancing about architecture.” I think that quotation expresses the inexpressibleness of wabi-sabi.

Wabi-sabi is an understanding that life is not endless, that all of us and all that is around us will return to the dust from whence we came. In that regard, wrinkles, cracks, stains and other signs of weathering are symbolic of the essential, the life lived, the life enjoyed. It doesn't mean that you don't build with quality and don't care for what you have; indeed that is what makes our home and furnishings last and become part of our memories. It means if my son spills grape juice on my hand-made, Roy McMakin coffee table, I clean up the spill and then relish the staining as a memory of a relaxed afternoon having lunch with my boy. It's a memory that may have blended into the others were it not for that purple stain. It's caring for the good, solid stuff, without the need for ornamentation. It strips away gaudiness and leaves only what is essential. It is an ability to make do with less, without sacrificing love, kindness, laughter, caring and purposeful work. Above all, wabi-sabi is genuineness. It's an Andrew Wyeth farmhouse.

I believe we have a natural yen for wabi-sabi. You should pardon the pun. It's the only explanation for our near obsession with finding innovative ways to age things, such as, chemically enhanced patinas, crackled paint, distressed furniture, barn-wood flooring, stone-washed jeans and other fake finishes. We want to feel the comfort of things that don't just look weathered, but are weathered, that have been cared for and lasted, that hold hugs and laughter in their energy and link us to simpler joys of youth. We want fulfillment, the satisfaction of a life well-lived. If we don't have these feelings we try to create them superficially. But here's the difference; being a Seven Stoner means you create real things, that really last, that really count, that really matter to our authentic, genuine lives.