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 Wabi-Sabi: The Beauty of Imperfection

To Taoism that which is absolutely still or absolutely perfect is absolutely dead.

There is nothing in the universe which is completely perfect or completely still;

it is only in the minds of men that such concepts exist.

~ Alan Watts

In advertisements and on social media, we are presented with a perfect life, in stark contrast to the flawed lives we actually lead. All we need to do is use that one anti-wrinkle cream, buy a new car, and shop the latest fast fashion trends, and then our lives will be perfect, and we will be happy. In advertising, our lives are predictable (because unpredictability means stress) and are stylized versions of real everyday life. It’s an Instagrammed, illusory world where there is no room for heavy emotions and setbacks. Hair is perfectly styled, nails are manicured according to the latest trend, aging and wrinkles are banished, and in the beach holiday commercial, we are always the only guests. The remarkable thing is—we are not fools—we know we are being deceived. Yet, in our cognitive dissonance, we still book that “adventurous” beach holiday, only to return frustrated and exhausted to work.

Wabi-Sabi is the antithesis of this. A Wabi-Sabi life is a simple life without pretensions, rooted in Taoist and Zen Buddhist philosophy. It is a life where things and people are what they are. Wabi-Sabi is bittersweet. We must face our own decay and eventual death while simultaneously seeing the beauty in this natural and timeless wisdom. Perfection does not exist, except in the human mind. Nothing is completely geometric or symmetrical; that is a human obsession. The pursuit of perfection is therefore a futile and frustrating endeavor.

For someone from a Western culture, where perfection, symmetry, and grandeur are valued, this is difficult to grasp. The word Utopia is Greek for “the perfect place.” Literally translated, however, it means “no (“U”) place (“topia”)”. So, the perfect place is no place. The imperfection of Wabi-Sabi is based on nature, where everything is constantly in motion, including the universe, and exists in a never-ending state of growth or decay. Nature is an endless “work in progress.”

Wabi-Sabi is inseparably linked to the tea ceremony, which emerged in 15th-century Japan as a spiritual practice among Zen monks and the military elite. The powerful military leaders, the Shogun, and their warriors, the Samurai, developed a special interest in tea rituals. Drinking tea was physically stimulating and created a moment of peace and harmony in a life full of violence. In the humble tea hut, relieved of their responsibilities and far from the battlefield, they found harmony and space for meditation. For the tea ceremony, the ruling class preferred expensive, imported Chinese porcelain and other utensils, which quickly became status symbols in an exuberant lifestyle.

Sen no Rikyu was the master of the tea ceremony for Hideyoshi, one of Japan’s most powerful warlords. In his time, the tea ceremony was a pleasant pastime for the influential upper class, who competed with each other using extravagant, expensive porcelain objects from China. Rikyu brought about a true aesthetic revolution by stripping the tea ceremony of all expensive adornments and paraphernalia, and he halved the size of the tea house to a small, minimalist space of just a few square meters. He replaced all the costly Chinese objects with simple, rough earthenware cups and bowls. Ostentatious wealth made way for simplicity. In a time when the glittering gold in the palaces starkly contrasted with the hunger of the masses, Rikyu introduced a new restrained aesthetic. Entirely in the spirit of Zen, an everyday act—the preparation and drinking of tea—became a carefully orchestrated ceremony, aimed at taking the participants away from their daily concerns and reminding them of the beauty of everyday things.

Objects with small imperfections are—according to Wabi-Sabi aesthetics—more valued than seemingly perfect examples. If they are broken or cracked, they have a higher aesthetic value than when they are undamaged, provided they are properly repaired. Beauty lies in earthly things, not in ostentatious luxury. An object that evokes a serene sense of melancholy and spiritual longing is Wabi-Sabi. Rikyu’s tea became known as Wabi tea, and like his tea ceremony, Wabi is associated with an aesthetic of simplicity. Under his influence, a refined art form emerged in which the tea house, the ceremony, the garden, the flowers, the food, and the conversation became a harmonious whole. The tea ceremony illustrates Wabi-Sabi values in a special way. The tea hut, with an area of 4 1/2 tatami mats, had a small and low entrance. Guests could only enter the space by bowing or crawling, as a symbolic gesture of humility. Inside, there was an atmosphere of absolute equality, not only among the guests but also regarding the objects and materials used. An expensive object was of equal value to a cheap one; “valuable” implies “worthless.”

Sen no Rikyu’s popularity grew, and he likely became entangled in political intrigues. At the age of 70, he was ordered by Hideyoshi to commit Harakiri (ritual suicide).

If you ask a Japanese person what Wabi-Sabi is, you often get an evasive or hesitant answer, and no two answers are the same. People know the term, they know the Wabi-Sabi feeling, but it is difficult to express it in words. And yet, it is one of the basic concepts of Japanese culture: the transience and imperfection of our lives and everything around us. Everything that exists comes from nothing and is on its way back to nothing. It is not surprising that a definitive answer to what Wabi-Sabi is is so hard to give, even though it has been embedded in everyday Japanese life for hundreds of years. In Zen philosophy, and the Taoism from which it originates, words are an unwanted filter between humans and the reality that surrounds them. Eastern philosophies are based on experiences, not on ideas, as in the West. A concept like Wabi-Sabi cannot be explained; it can only be experienced. The Taoist and Zen philosophy was not passed down from generation to generation through (written) texts; there are no books or teachers from which to gain the knowledge. According to Zen, essential knowledge can only be transmitted one-on-one, not through spoken or written words but through experiencing it under the guidance of a master. As a Taoist saying goes: “Those who know do not speak; those who speak do not know.”

Wabi-Sabi is the appreciation of transient, imperfect, and incomplete things. In Wabi-Sabi, we find value, beauty, and interest in unexpected places, and we learn to appreciate life as it is, not as we wish it were. We discover the beauty of decay, and we realize that we ourselves are no less valuable, beautiful, or loving as a result of our own decline. Wabi-Sabi is the moss on a stone, a broken branch, a withered flower. Wabi-Sabi is the beauty of the cycle of growth, decay, and death.

Wabi-Sabi is about how we, as humans, stand in life and relate to nature. It is about accepting the fleeting nature of all things and even embracing and appreciating it. Wabi-Sabi makes us humble and teaches us to be content with the essentials. In a growth-oriented Western society where more money, a bigger house, a more expensive car, and an even more luxurious holiday are the most pursued goals, Wabi-Sabi is a welcome antidote. It teaches us to be content with what we have and—above all—with who we are. Why strive for a perfect life that does not exist?

In Buddhism, the Pali word Dukkha refers to the dissatisfaction of humans that arises because we always want more or something else. And once we have what we so desired, we direct our longing toward the next goal. Hedonistic adaptation. It’s as if we constantly yearn for something we don’t have, which leads to feelings of frustration and emptiness.

Wabi-Sabi is focused on simplicity, modesty, and the natural—the perfection of imperfection. Briefly and succinctly, it has three principles, three pillars:

- Nothing is perfect.

- Nothing is finished.

- Nothing is forever.

It is untranslatable. The Japanese language is far from unequivocal, and it doesn’t aim to be. The Japanese love ambiguity, both in their language and in everyday life. Ambiguity is highly valued because it leaves room for personal interpretation. The concept is well described by the often-cited quote in Leonard Koren’s *Wabi-Sabi for Artists, Designers, Poets & Philosophers*:

Wabi-Sabi 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.

Human suffering arises because we cling to things that are temporary, transient. The more we do this, the unhappier we become. Everything perishes. The planets and stars, and even intangible things like reputation, family bonds, love, art, and literature, fade into nothingness. Everything in the universe is continuously in motion and temporary. *Panta Rei*, everything flows. From birth, we are on a journey back to the dust from which we came. We tend to see entropy as something negative—the inevitability of decay, the unavoidable death. The body slowly but surely crumbles in a downward spiral that we would prefer to break, for ourselves, our loved ones, our pets. Zen, on the other hand, is based on the acceptance and appreciation of imperfection and transience, which leads to a different view of how we relate to nature and a new perspective on the beauty of decay: aesthetic entropy.

Wabi-Sabi appreciates the small, the ugly, the unnoticed detail; the subdued, melancholic, and modest beauty of the transient, the rustic, the humble, the inconspicuous. This stands in stark contrast to the loudness of Western society, in which we surround ourselves with luxury and perfection, where everything revolves around youth, grandeur, and status. In the quest for a luxurious and perfect life, we forget that the only real wealth is found in the natural things around us: a flower, a tree, a rock. The pursuit of happiness through material possessions often leads us further away from the simple, essential beauty that is everywhere around us.

In Wabi-Sabi, we are reminded that we are part of this continuous cycle of life and death, of growth and decay. Therein lies a profound beauty, a beauty that does not conform to societal standards but speaks to the core of our humanity.