It may not be too far off to describe humans’ efforts of modernization as a process to control, and eventually conquer nature.  It has been a daunting task because nature is overwhelmingly powerful, whereas humans are small and fragile. Humans, throughout their endeavors, have invented countless tools to first understand, and then alter/engineer nature, in their favor.  Religion, language, science and technology served as decisive tools to drastically accelerate the process.  Those were the products of our desperate efforts to translate what’s going on in nature, in a way that would “make sense” to us.  We could call it the “logicalization” process.

But that doesn’t mean that nature would suddenly start speaking our logic.  There’s always been disparities, rifts or inconsistencies between our logicalization process and actual nature.  So we named them “mysteries.”

There are two ways to deal with these mysteries: further improve our tools to reduce the gap, or simply admit that we cannot solve them.  The first option is advancing, and the latter one is restraining, if you will.  Modernization has largely been about the first option. We have been doing so good that we’ve come to believe that we now can control nature pretty well.  The latter had been pretty unpopular over the last couple of centuries.  We weren’t surrendering to nature, and we weren’t leaving mysteries unsolved.  We were determined to advance.

But then, Japanese traditional aesthetics, such as “wabi-sabi” or “ma” belong to the latter.

The overarching, fundamental philosophy that supports the beauty of simple, succinct Japanese traditional arts and culture is the realization that humans cannot conquer nature, and our determination to leave it alone when possible.  Whenever mysteries are left unsolved, ambiguities emerged.  Ambiguities were the gateway for humans to dissolve into nature.

Japanese aesthetics found beauty in those ambiguities, and attempted to reflect them as is.  Artificial additions, or human’s interventions were kept at a minimum level – often until ultimate essentials were revealed.  When you embrace those ambiguities to truly dissolve into nature, you end up facing no one but yourself.  This outcome is “wabi” (loneliness), used in “wabi-sabi.”  When you appreciate everything nature has, you end up appreciating even the decaying process.  And it’s “sabi” (rust, or dying) of wabi-sabi.  Because you are celebrating ambiguities, you become silent, rather than explanatory.  Silence and blank spaces play critical roles.  It is called “ma.” (intentionally placed pauses or space)

Zen is a school of Buddhism, and Buddhism originated in ancient India.  After thousands of years, Buddhism spread across Asia, adapting to the local environment/culture.  Japan first “imported” Buddhism in the 6th century, and has nurtured various schools since then, blending the philosophy with indigenous religions (such as Shinto) and culture.  Zen was brought in from China around 10~11th century.

The core tenet of Buddhism is to admit that nothing is absolute, you are not perfect, and your desire is the source of your struggle and pain. If you manage to accept that nothing, even yourself, is absolute, and you free yourself from all of your desires, you will arrive at the vast universe of truth, and become Buddha.

It sounds very introspective. You would have to win your inner battle against yourself, who cannot stop looking for pleasure.  But if you take a closer look,  you would realize that facing your desire means facing the reality of nature.  Nature does not offer enough food and resources for everyone.  Plus, it is filled with ordeals such as diseases and harsh climates.  And worst of all, we are all destined to eventually die.  We try desperately to defy our destiny, which is also described as seeking pleasure.  And by trying to do so, we often end up fighting each other. Buddha told us to stop fighting against our destiny.  He said accepting it would be the only way to achieve eternal peace.

It may sound like Buddha was a pessimist and denied celebrating our existence. But it’s actually the opposite: Buddhism tells us to celebrate nothingness, of which we are a precious and dynamic part.  (Visit XX if you are interested in Zen and Buddhism, there’s a lot more to it than just what I have introduced here)

Have you noticed that there is a common theme? Buddhism’s philosophy tells us to accept nature as is, and Japanese aesthetics finds beauty in the undefined ambiguities left between nature and humans.

That’s where Zen monks come into play.  Zen was a moment-defining influence on Japanese art and culture in the Middle Ages.  Zen denies text.  Zen believes in enlightenment achieved only through harsh training, such as meditation.  Zen monks, who saw the real face of the nature-human relationship, through extreme experiences, recorded their state of enlightenment using many forms of art, such as calligraphy, flower arrangement or designing Zen rock gardens. (because they don’t rely on text.)

These arts were magically simple, minimalist and celebrated emptiness.  They were a crystallization of their sincere journey to throw them into the heart of raw nature, relying only on their body, senses and mind.  Their artistic crystallization was so profound that it’s surviving the test of time, after hundreds of years, and still stuns people today.