Editor’s Note: This blog was originally posted in March of 2017. There have been many more personal references to wabi-sabi since then. The concept also has a lot of applications in the menopausal journey and beyond!
This conversation with my Japanese-American husband started several months ago when he referred to me as wabi-sabi. Out of context now, I can’t recall exactly what we were discussing, but I was intrigued by his fond label and his attempts to explain what it meant. “You know, like that piece of pottery you made – it just looks like you.”
That didn’t help me very much as the pottery piece was colored in geometric patterns of red, yellow and blue. He added “it is just so imperfect and cute.”
Now I was lost. I could see imperfect…but cute?
A quick online search revealed the following definition:
Wabi-sabi is a concept in traditional Japanese aesthetics constituting a world view centered on the acceptance of transience and imperfection. The aesthetic is sometimes described as one of beauty that is ‘imperfect, impermanent, and incomplete.’
Wikipedia
Now we were getting somewhere! Further research discovered profound, rich layers of meaning implied by this concept. The words asymmetry, roughness, simplicity and intimacy were also associated with this apparent term of endearment my husband was endowing upon me.
I studied the pottery piece I had made in tenth grade (or, as we had called it in Canada, grade ten) with renewed interest. It had lasted moves across country borders, in and out of rental houses and apartments, finally resting in our home for many years and ultimately making it into our newest house without breaking or being lost. It sure had weathered a lot.
Today I decided I could make wabi-sabi into an adjective.
I arrived at work by 6:30 am and disembarked from my car, walking across the street to enter underground in the parking garage where I take the elevators up to my office. But, the elevators were not working – a tiny sign stated “sorry, elevators are temporarily out of service.” What?!!
This was the one day I was loaded up like a Sherpa: backpack, purse, water bottle, lunch bag, gift bag, big pan with a home made apple cake, and a large bouquet of roses. OMG! I turned around, made it out of the garage and headed outside to enter into the building from a side door. Nope, the escalators were also out of service.
No problem, I huffed up one flight of stairs and made it to the concierge desk to find out, sadly, that the elevators were all out of service and nobody knew when they would be working. The security guard seemed a tad distraught.
So was I.
I rearranged my awkward pile of items, praying I wouldn’t drop the cake or the flowers, and slowly made my way over to the stairwell. I counted out all eight floors (sixteen flights) one by one. I struggled with one more stairwell door and made it down the hall, arriving at my office suite just as my arms were turning to Jell-O.
I was definitely feeling wabi-sabi at that moment!
And what of the cake, roses, and gift bag, you ask? Well, the birthday girl had a family emergency and didn’t come to work today, so the rest of us enjoyed the roses and ate cake.
Here is to appreciating the wisdom and beauty of imperfection.