Pure driven snow looks almost perfect, but with one set of footprints, it becomes a story; something more. The snow is no longer “perfect”, but somehow it’s even better.
The darkness is appreciated for the light. The good is better, because of a touch of bad. The blank canvas becomes art with the first splatter of paint. That scar, dent, wrinkle, hardship, worn and weathered, driven off the lot, dog-eared imperfection illuminates the beauty.
Basically, wabi sabi means it’s perfect, because it’s a little fucked up.
We’ve been through some shit, which can make us more attractive. Or … less. Some of us let the scratches become our story, rather than enrich it and that’s a real shame. Some have gotten hit pretty hard. Knocked down. Several times. And we need to process through that. Not an easy thing. But, we can’t get stuck in the sorrow, pain, and scars.
I hear The Doors in the background, “… no time to wallow in the mire.”
Staying in the mire is neglect of the self. Don’t mistake neglect for imperfection. It’s simply neglect and there’s no beauty in that. Care is the opposite of neglect. If we take care in the face of tribulation and because of it, well … it can be a beautiful thing. Not in spite of it though. Spite comes from and fuels anger, resentment, and darkness. The results of spite are quite different than those of benevolence.
Like Zen, Wabi Sabi encourages us to celebrate the way things are, rather than how they should be. Should’ve, would’ve, could’ve is not reality. It’s a miserable fantasyland, because we never allow ourselves to be content in what truly is.
To clarify, being content is not about sitting in the mud and saying “fuck it” with a fake smile on our face. It’s about being happy in our pursuit.
“Wabi Sabi nurtures all that is authentic by acknowledging three simple realities: nothing lasts, nothing is finished, and nothing is perfect.” – Richard Powell
Yes … authenticity. Because beauty is in the imperfections.
Photo by Manish Kumar on Unsplash
I Am No Yogi 