Ann Kameoka and H. E. Davey: Excerpt from The Japanese
Way of the Flower
Impermanence
Sabi not only indicates a sense of aloneness, effortless
action, and/or uncultured antiquity, it also relates to
the universal quality of impermanence in life as well as
Japanese art. Returning again to Dave Lowry's Persimmon
Wind, we can find a clear explanation of the correlation
between sabi and the ephemeral nature of existence:
To appreciate sabi is to discover contentment in solitude.
To integrate sabi into daily life is to recognize that all
our relationships with others, even those we cherish and
love most deeply, are limited and fleeting. Even the woman
or man whose spouse has been at his or her side for fifty
years feels it was but an instant when that partner dies.
For Rikyu, this sensation of ephemerality was at the heart
of the experience of chado [tea ceremony]. No matter how
beautiful the flowers arranged at the tokonoma or how
delightful the season of the tea garden surrounding the
hut, these will pass in an eyeblink, as will the moments
we share with others in the hut. The snow outside the cabin
door will melt in the morning, the book we savored by the
fireplace will be finished.
[from Persimmon Wind: A Martial Artist's Journey
in Japan. Charles E. Tuttle, 1998]
The sabi state of impermanence has been summed up frequently
by exponents of tea ceremony and other Japanese cultural arts
as ichigo, ichi-e (one encounter, one chance). In
essence, when we view another's flower arrangement, or when
we create our own arrangements, the mind must be in the
present, as if we might never have another chance to
encounter that moment--which, of course, we never do. To
live the moment fully is to unify mind and body and be
totally alive as opposed to merely existing.
This is the spirit of muga ichi-nen discussed in the
last chapter. Muga ichi-nen and ichigo, ichi-e are related
ideas that are firmly rooted in the nature of impermanence.
(In fact, wabi, sabi, shibumi, and shibui, as well as other
concepts and principles common to the various Ways, tend to
overlap frequently, since they really describe different
aspects of what is in the end a single, universal Way.)
This, in turn, underscores the value of muga ichi-nen ho as
an effective meditative form for proponents of the Japanese
arts, which universally regard transience as a valued
aesthetic if not an actual spiritual component. Dropping
self-consciousness and completely experiencing a single,
fleeting moment as "one thought" is certainly
comparable to the realization that life only exists at this
instant and we will never have another chance to live it
again.
What better art than kado to lead us to nonattachment as well
as a profound awareness of the transient character of life?
Flowers that you have painstakingly arranged will wither and
die in a short time. Some people even wonder if there's any
point in rigorously training in an art that is so impermanent.
("If you can't keep it around for a few years to enjoy
and show to your friends, then what's the point? I'd rather
paint and produce something lasting.")
These individuals have failed to realize that the very fact
that flowers do not last is what makes arranging and viewing
them special. These same folks suffer from the illusion that
some form of permanent art exists. It does not. Beauty is in
the moment, and realization of its fleeting nature is what
encourages us to live every instant completely, with our
whole minds and bodies. Someone once said, "Life is
what happens when you're busy making plans"--ichigo,
ichi-e indeed.
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