Brooklyn Bonsai
Jake Reiben (Brooklyn Friends School)
The day my mother stepped out on what little we have of a deck in the midst of Brooklyn to find that
the one bonsai tree her son purchased but months ago had now multiplied into twenty others was the day I
had to answer a hard question: why I had such an obsession with dwarf trees. In what was a reserved
manner for a Catholic Italian, my mother fled my deck and its suffocating plants, burst into my room and
demanded an answer. At this point, Japan and its culture came to my mind. I asked myself: “Would students
in Japan be persecuted for their interest in bonsai?” I then recalled that my Japanese-American friend had
laughed at me when I had told her I had a bonsai tree collection. In her opinion, the art of bonsai was
reserved only for elderly Japanese men. My friend’s opinion aside, my mother had asked a good question,
for I had never been able to create a coherent explanation as to why I had become fascinated with the
ancient Japanese art of bonsai. I decided to embark on a quest to prove to my mom that I had not gone off
the deep end, but also to clarify for myself why the Japanese art of bonsai seduced me.

Probing the depths of my mind while staring at the trees in which I had invested so much time and
money helped me create an answer. I began with putting the sensation I felt while working on bonsai trees
into words. This feeling reminded me of the same sensation a rock climber experiences as he safely and
quickly ascends a mountain while avoiding the distraction of irrelevant thoughts. Similarly, in the case of
re-potting a bonsai tree, the vulnerable bare rooted state of the tree demands that I must concentrate and act
decisively to pot the tree securely. Although the mountain climber analogy was a bit of a stretch, I had
figured out that I enjoyed the Zen-like state I achieved while working on my bonsai trees. Nonetheless, I
still felt that my answer was incomplete; I had yet to convey how the principles of the Japanese art of
bonsai applied to my everyday life.

So great is the patience and dedication required to grow and style bonsai that it made me a more
accepting person. In bonsai, a tree must slowly be sculpted and styled as not to cause its demise. After
killing several trees from making hasty decisions, I learned that I had to slow down and respect them. With
this acquired patience, I began to pace myself and properly do my homework, for the practice of bonsai had
drilled into me that impulsive actions often resulted in the death of my artistic creations. Furthermore,
bonsai helped me embrace the idea that individuals must adapt to sudden changes. This is due to the fact
that branches often die in bonsai, yet the tree does not become utterly worthless. Deadwood or “jin” can be
sculpted to create a dramatic contrast between the living and dead parts of the tree. I became inspired by
this expansive approach as what could have been an unfortunate turn of events can be transformed into a
deeper aesthetic experience.

After much deliberation I had finally achieved an answer to my mother’s question. Working with
nature in the depths of metropolitan Brooklyn, usually bare of but a patch of grass, was truly reviving. Rock
climbing was the only other way that fed my addiction to experience a Zen-like state. My mother and I both
know that it is difficult to find a mountain in Brooklyn. Thanks to this Japanese art, I have become more
patient and accepting of change; I know there are always options.

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Mottainai –Learn to Respect What You Have
Natsuko Sato (Arlington High School)
“Gochisou sama deshita!” Full and content, I started to leave the table, but Grandmother tapped my
shoulder and stopped me. Examining my bowls, she told me that I was not yet finished with my meal. I
looked at her questioningly, confused about what she meant for I had eaten everything—or at least that was
what I thought. Grandmother pointed to my rice bowl and said, “There is still some left.” Peering in, I
realized there were still some grains of rice stuck to my bowl. “Mottainai,” she said, which means, “what a
waste.” She told me that I must finish every last grain of rice, or else I will go blind from wasting such a
precious gift. I must admit, I was taken aback. Having grown up in the United States, I was used to the
other children in my class throwing away food without any hesitation once they were full. It never occurred
to me that in other cultures, even the last bits of rice could be considered something of such value.

Later on, this occurrence made me reminisce about a conversation I once had with my grandfather. I
remembered the time when he explained to me the significance of the character, “rice.” He told me that if
the three parts to the character were to be taken apart and rearranged, it would create the number eighty-
eight. It symbolizes the number of days it takes for the rice to grow to maturity: from the day when the rice
is planted to when it is ready for harvesting. Being a rice cultivator himself, my grandfather knew how
much time and effort had to be put into growing them. This memory made me truly understand why
Grandmother said “mottainai;” it would have been like throwing away the hard work that the planters put
into growing the rice for us.

The Japanese concept of “mottainai” is based on the idea that nothing should be put to waste and that
one must appreciate both physical resources and intangible objects, such as talent and time. This idea is
already starting to impact the world in many areas. A prime example of its global impact can be seen in the
Kenyan environmentalist and winner of the Nobel Peace Prize, Wangari Maathai. Upon visiting Japan, she
was impressed by the Japanese’s commitment to the conservation of materials and reduction of waste, and
she was inspired to make a difference in her own country. By incorporating the “mottainai” ideal, Maathai
began persuading people to shift from using thin, weak plastic bags to thicker, reusable ones in order to
reduce the amount of garbage. Another instance where the Japanese’s “mottainai” concept impacted the
world was in the 2011 Tohoku catastrophe. The nuclear disaster had resulted in the destruction of a major
electricity source in Japan, and countless homes throughout the country were left without electricity.

Planned power outages were deemed necessary, and citizens were requested to conserve electricity to
compensate for the shortage. Numerous people acted immediately and showed their willingness to
cooperate for the cause. Even in the summer, when temperatures rose to be over a hundred degrees
Fahrenheit on some days, the Japanese continued to work hard to conserve electricity to the best of their
abilities. Some went to public libraries to stay cool since they thought that turning on their air conditioner
just for themselves was “mottainai.” Others took smaller actions, such as turning the lights off when no one
was in the room. The Japanese proverb, “chiri mo tsumoreba, yama to naru,” which means when small
things come together it can make a huge difference in the end, excellently describes how the Japanese
cooperated to overcome their hardships. The small acts of conservation that the Japanese undertook to
minimize the things they viewed as “mottainai” resulted in the commendable accomplishment of
overcoming the mountainous impediment.

Currently, I am a member of my school’s science research team and our primary focus is to promote
eco-friendly activities in our community. My experience with Japan’s “mottainai” culture has helped me
realize that besides reducing, reusing, and recycling, respecting our environment and appreciating the
things we have is also essential in making our world a healthier place and to preserve its beauties. I plan to
continue advocating awareness about how everyone can make a difference to save our world by
encouraging others to look to the Japanese example of their “mottainai” mentality and be thankful for even
the smallest gifts in life.

Bibliography: “Wangari Maathai’s Other Initiatives.” The Green Belt Movement. The Green Belt
Movement International. Web. 02 Jan. 2012. .

“What We Do.” MOTTAINAI. MOTTAINAI. Web. 02 Jan. 2012. .

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