Spring is, without a doubt in my mind, a season of somber reflection, rebirth, new beginnings and — of course — nostalgia. Nostalgia for the buds that once bloomed on your favorite childhood tree. Nostalgia for the first bike ride, rewarded at the end with sweet caramel ice cream.
I find that this year’s spring in particular is quite nostalgic for me, as I stumble adrift in meaningful reflections of my study abroad experience last spring in Japan.
Springtime in Japan is a period of time where much symbolic and spiritual meaning lies, partly because it is during this time that the country’s national flower emerges: the cherry blossom, or, as it is called in Japanese, the sakura.
I had gone to Japan several times before studying abroad, to visit my dad’s family over there. Vividly, I remember the springtime visits the clearest because of the sakura trees and their beautiful, dancing petals.
Sakura viewing is a deeply historical tradition in Japan, an annual spring festivity accompanied by various festivals, events and other social gatherings. This flower viewing is called hanami in Japanese.
There’s something inherently magical about walking under and around these beautiful pink trees and having the petals whisper and dance around you. You feel a warm, calming sense of tranquility, of reassurance.
What makes hanami so special is the eerily whimsical aspect of impermanence.
Sakura trees bloom for only about one to two weeks, meaning you really only have a short amount of time to enjoy the flowers, petals and pretty pink of it all.
But I think that’s what makes it so special to so many. The fleeting moment; the end drawing so near.
I took a Japanese philosophy class while abroad, and my professor emphasized and ingrained in us an understanding of a Japanese word heavily associated with the fleeting, the impermanent, the perfectly imperfect: wabi-sabi.
With roots in Zen Buddhism and the traditional Japanese arts, wabi-sabi originated in the 15th or 16th century in Japan. It is antithetical to superficial perfection and balance, epitomizing the beauty of natural flaws, simplicity, aging, imperfection and simplicity.
Of course, wabi-sabi, sakura trees and hanami are connected; there’s plenty of writing about that. But, even deeper, my sense of nostalgia and reflection is also connected with this idea of wabi-sabi.
I look back fondly on Japan because it was impermanent. The memories made, the moments created, held so much meaning for me because I knew they would come to an end. Incredibly wabi-sabi if you ask me.
Of course, I’m just being somberly reflective at this point, but writing about all this has made me think more about this concept of wabi-sabi.
Life itself is far too short to be caught up in thinking through how to make everything so trivially perfect. Life, at its core, is not defined by perfection — if anything, it’s defined by the imperfect.
Wabi-sabi informs one to look towards the things in life that are worn, subtle and uniquely off-kilter. It is an applied understanding that every aspect of this collection of chaos we call reality has profound, beautiful meaning.
Y’all, life’s too short— embrace the wabi-sabi.
Hirata can be reached at [email protected].
