Month: January 2026

I was recently introduced to the Japanese philosophy of Wabi-sabi. A derivative of Buddhism, Wabi-sabi values the beauty of imperfection, impermanence and incompleteness. It rejects concepts of purity, urging followers to appreciate the inexact essence of the world. Adherents of Wabi-sabi accept flaws in nature and personal flaws. Simplicity is prized in both art and life. Peace is found in the ordinary, not the exceptional.

Classic Wabi-sabi totems are the cracked teacup or wilted flower. While a complete cup is useful, and may be exquisite, a crack reveals other aspects of the vessel that are just as important. Wilted flowers highlight the temporary quality of time and can express a beauty all their own. The trick is to look beyond the obvious to see what is hidden in plain view.

In life, Wabi-sabi basks in uncomplicated things, like a fresh snow fall, or the elegance of the traditional Japanese tea ceremony. It is akin to the mindfulness emphasized by Buddhists such as Thich Nhat Hanh, who reveled in seemingly mundane acts, like washing dishes.      

Wabi-sabi is undoubtedly a useful life philosophy. Our tunnel vision often causes us to miss the beauty that surrounds us. We walk along with our heads down, absorbed in random thoughts, or have brain-numbing music blaring through our ear buds. We do this knowing an openness to everyday transcendence is both energizing and enriching.

Yet it is hard to maintain the Wabi-sabi attitude. It contrasts sharply with Western concepts entrenched from a young age. Western values urge the recognition and pursuit of the ideal as the highest calling of humanity (thank you Plato). To ignore those ideals is almost blasphemous, even if you don’t hold deep religious beliefs.

An integral part of the pursuit of Western perfection is the making of goals. Instead of letting life flow to us, we wrap ourselves in unending plans. Once the course is set, we are reluctant to deviate from those plans, instead carrying on as if we can control all the variables and will undoubtedly achieve the result we envision.

Few of us are deluded enough to believe that the goals we have laid are inevitable. After all, Western thought also tells us that we are flawed and that while ideals are meant to be pursued, they can never actually be attained. We know that our reach is not long enough. Still, we plod forward.

And yet those goals serve an important function. We are in that season where New Year’s resolutions fill gyms, impact liquor sales and subscriptions to Master Class proliferate. Odds are that these resolutions won’t make it into February. However, they remain as reminders to aim for a better, healthier lifestyle, and that’s not a bad thing.

The pursuit of perfection has also driven innovation and achievement. Obviously, that can get out of control, but history is replete with those who have been singularly devoted to a goal, willing to risk all on their objective. We admire those who can channel their tunnel vision to worthwhile goals.

Conversely, a Wabi-sabi mindset can lead to complacency. It is not surprising that this life philosophy arose in a society that was highly stratified. Individuals in pre-WWII Japan were expected to accept their place in the pecking order. There was little chance for advancement if you did not have the right pedigree.

We are a striving society and there is little way around that. We exalt those that are always pushing the limits. Yet sometimes we admire our “heroes” too much. We endow them with the mantle of perfection we esteem. We embrace characters that always solve the crime, defeat the bad guys and walk off into the proverbial sunset. Our streaming services are crammed with these white knights, and we watch assured that, despite their quirks and flaws, they will prevail because of their single-minded tenacity and perseverance.

Unfortunately, we also like to assume perfection in our leaders. We hold them to standards beyond human ability. When they fail to meet the lofty ideals we set, we either overlook and explain away their foibles or wholly reject them as if they have no redeeming characteristics at all. Either way, our unrealistic expectations cloud judgement.  

Of course, those same leaders play into this tendency. They exalt themselves as if perfection is not only attainable but has been embodied in their person. In doing so they set expectations beyond their capability, and when those expectations falter the cycle of repudiation and/or rationalization begins.

As always, I go back to J. Krishnamurti. “Truth is a pathless land.” Life philosophies are useful as guidelines, but once you embrace them as the be all and end all they are limiting. Wabi-sabi imparts insights that are a useful counterpoint to our Western idealism. Yet our pursuit of perfection can lead to great success. As always balance is the key. If it were only that easy.

The Talking Heads “Psycho Killer” has been on my internal playlist ever since I first heard it almost 50 years ago. It was the first Talking Heads song that caught my attention and it never let go. I was lucky enough to hear it performed live by David Byrne this past year. It has lost none of its impact.

The second verse is especially haunting. It’s as if Byrne is talking directly to me.

                        You start a conversation, you can’t even finish it

                        You’re talking a lot, but you’re not saying anything

                        When I have nothing to say, my lips are sealed

                        Say something once, why say it again?

I don’t want to blame the Heads for my silence over the last few months, but the more I tried to produce a post the more this refrain rang out.

My guess is that everyone who writes faces this same dilemma, though few cite David Byrne as the source of their angst. It is exceedingly difficult to express anything worth putting into print, let alone reading, when you have been doing so on a regular basis. The same themes and verbal tricks crowd the mind, shutting out anything original.

I have great respect for columnists who write on a regular schedule. These word warriors have no choice but to meet deadlines that do not permit slacking. Even for them, if you consume them regularly, you see the same motifs repeatedly dressed up in different costumes. I do not begrudge them that necessity, but it is wearing. Those that can keep your attention over a long period of time are few and far between.

This is especially true now. We are bombarded by content, even if we try and limit it. With the targeting algorithms, the 24 hour “news” stations, and the ever-spouting pundits, it seems like anything worth regurgitating has already been spewed forth. It is one of the reasons I rarely write on political matters. Someone somewhere has likely said anything I could conceive of, and probably much better than I ever could.

The real danger is that content stops being spontaneous and you become a mere caricature of yourself, putting out what has worked before and eschewing any active creativity. This is especially noticeable in sports announcers who have found a catch phrase. Whether it’s Dick Vitale’s “Awesome, Baby”, Chris Berman’s “Back, back, back, back…gone”, or Keith Jackson’s “Whoa Nelly”, there’s a sense that these phrases are just being used because it’s expected. What was once stirring becomes as stale as week old bread.

Writers may not use catch phrases, but the same problem persists. I look askance at prolific authors like Stephen King, Joyce Carol Oates and James Patterson. To produce a book every six months or so they must rely on tried-and-true patterns, and it’s noticeable. Try reading two of their books back-to-back and you will feel as if you’re just reading one book with the names changed to protect the not so innocent.

Unfortunately, this is a phenomenon common to most endeavors. Musicians find a comfortable groove and repeat it again and again. It’s why we keep going back to early recordings to find the energy and invention that attracted us in the first place (like Elvis’ Sun label records). Similarly, painters find a style and never let it go, just churning out variations on a theme.

I often think that genius is the ability to jettison what went before and risk pursuing new paths. Whether it’s Picasso moving from “period” to “period”, or the Beatles progressing in a few short years from “I Want to Hold Your Hand” to the Abbey Road medley, the ability to change and yet maintain that spark of inventiveness is both inspiring and rare.  

This is a convoluted way of saying (hmm, sidetracks – one of my signature motifs?) that I had to stop and catch my breath. My writing felt more and more robot-like. It lacked the inventiveness I long for. The song in my head kept shouting, “Say something once, why say it again”. I needed to ask myself whether I wanted to keep going.

After taking some time off, I realized that the answer to that question was “Yes”. I missed putting my thoughts down, as chaotic as they often are. In fact, it’s often the need to formulate those thoughts for the page that allow them to rise above the randomness that are their most striking characteristic.

There is one major problem. I am no very stable genius (No, No. No need to protest). I am inevitably going to fall into ruts and repeat myself. So, as we head into the new year, look forward to new content, for better or worse.

Even with this resolve, I know that I will feel David Byrne cringing with every click of the keyboard. I will endeavor to ignore his admonitions and press forward. Maybe I’ll just put some more upbeat Byrne on Spotify, like “Everybody laughs”, or “I Dance Like this.”. Qu’est-ce que c’est.