Recently, I came across Leonard Koren’s book, “Wabi-Sabi for Artists, Designers, Poets and Philosophers.” I found both the term wabi-sabi and the philosophical concepts it embodies irresistible. Here is my imperfect description of this hard-to-define Japanese concept.
In the distant past, the words wabi and sabi had distinct meanings; both referred to qualities engendered by the isolation and poverty in which the early monks lived. Originally, wabi meant sad, lonely and desolate, while sabi referred to the natural process of wear and disintegration. Around the 14th century, the words began to take on positive values. Wabi has since come to mean simplicity and spiritual attunement to nature, while sabi refers to the patina of age. At present, the distinctions between them have blurred, and wabi-sabi incorporates the meanings of both words. It speaks to the incompleteness, impermanence and imperfectability of the material universe; it is an acceptance of the natural cycle of birth, growth, decay and death. Wabi-sabi is about paring down to the essentials; it is an intuitive rather than a rational world view; it is open to ambiguity; it values the natural world over the man-made, technological world; and it finds beauty in imperfection.
Now, you might ask, “What does all this have to do with gardens?” I would say, “Everything!” As gardeners, we are aware of the unpredictability of nature and how little control we have over it. We are aware of the cycles of life; we rejoice in the birth of the garden in spring, as trees and shrubs leaf out, early flower buds appear, forgotten bulbs poke through the earth and perennials come back to life. The garden reaches a crescendo of growth, then goes into its autumnal phase and the earth reclaims the bounty of spring and summer. As gardeners, we look closely and observe nature—the structure of the smallest flower, the insect pollinators, the changes to the land after large and small weather events. As gardeners, we appreciate the ephemeral.
To talk about gardens, however, is to talk about human intervention in nature. How much control do we want? What choices do we make in creating a balance between order and wildness? The making of a garden is our attempt to reconcile the civilized with the world of nature. We have lost so much of the natural world that creating a garden is an opportunity to protect and cherish a little bit of wildness in our backyards.
The wabi-sabi garden is one in which the gardener’s hand is almost invisible. It appears to belong to its site, as if it always existed. The wabi-sabi garden embraces change. Nothing is permanent, finished or perfect; it is always in a state of flux. Oaks come down after a storm: grieve for them, but then welcome the opportunity for sun to enter the garden. The wabi-sabi garden is dynamic; being in the garden is like taking a journey through a landscape that is not revealed all at once. It allows for the appreciation of the hidden, the mysterious and the subtle. The wabi-sabi garden uses humble materials: recycled materials showing their age and wear and local, natural objects. The wabi-sabi garden is an intimate space that fosters a sense of peace and harmony and gives pleasure to our senses. Enjoy your garden!
Vivian Mazur is a member of the Inverness Garden Club who can often be found in the Gables garden, which she nurtures with the help of other garden club members. If you have a topic you would like to see covered in our Coastal Gardener column, please write to [email protected].