Wabi-Sabi: Nothing Is Perfect, Even Gardens
Have Weeds
Ali Gilani Syed (Stony Brook University)
No one is ever comfortable derailing oneself, but I must. You see, in the past, I was not someone you
would want as a friend. I was self-centered. Self-interested. Self-absorbed. Self-seeking.

Throughout adolescence, I had a hard time maintaining friendships. I was often consumed in studying
and looking for tasks to ‘pad’ my resume. In short, I was a perfectionist geared toward financial success.

In school, I was not motivated by curiosity, but a good GPA. Conversations with friends mainly
pertained to grades. I would find myself stressed with assignments, consumed by due dates, and struggling
in relationships with family, friends, and myself.

Change was needed, yet I least expected it to arrive at a trivial dinner. During my freshman year, my
friend Pavel casually invited me over. He introduced me to his Japanese step-mother, Sonya. When I
mentioned my dad was from Delhi, India, she inquired about the Lodhi Gardens. My response, “How did
you know about that?” was enough for her to discuss her love of gardens. Describing herself as a naturalist,
she insisted I tag along with Pavel to visit her workplace, the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens.

With Pavel, I went to the site and Sonya gave us a tour through the collection of gardens. However,
one site mesmerized me: the Japanese Hill-and-Pond Garden. With its splendor and simplicity, the red torii
(traditional Japanese gate) stood in glistening water. The edges of the lake were green in reflection from the
surrounding foliage. The pink cherry-blossoms ushered a sense of aesthetic comfort.

The garden was centered on a pond with a small island in the center. Around the pond, clusters of
Japanese iris flowers, violet in color. Most captivating was the waterfall; a thunderous splash of water over
the rocks creating a soothing, relaxing façade. It all seemed wonderfully placed.

The entire garden was a provision of awe. A miniature paradise. An idealized landscape; a wonderful
equilibrium between order and nature, a balance between pleasure and simplicity. Never had I seen nature
so organized and formal. My first exposure to Japanese culture- a nihon-teien, a Japanese Garden.

Sensing my delight, Pavel invited me to more retreats. At first, I was reluctant, but my inner curiosity
gave in. Over two months’ time, I partook in activities I never did in two decades: kayaking, mountain-bike
riding, canoeing, hiking, rock-climbing, and more.

Gradually, I realized nature provided a serene venue where I could remove my cloak of tension and
anxiety. I could satisfy my youthful longings for privacy and tranquility and absorb the curative power of
art and nature.

It was at this point in my life, I learned about wabi-sabi, a Japanese philosophy of seeing beauty in
life’s imperfections. Sonya described wabi-sabi as something that concentrated on the acceptance of
impermanence and imperfection in life. Wabi-sabi taught that in life, “nothing lasts, nothing is finished, and
nothing is perfect” (Powell 2005). So why not enjoy it?
In nature, I could sense wabi-sabi everywhere. Everything had its flaws, yet nature was still beautiful.

The rough bark of the trees. The asymmetry of the rocks. The decaying color of leaves. Unrefined and
crude, yet stunning. My retreats became liberation from the mundane. The lens of wabi-sabi showed I
could live life with my senses and absorb life rather than be consumed by it.

When my grandmother was battling breast cancer, I used the appeal of sakura-blossoms to acquaint
her with Japan, a place she never visited. Amidst the Cherry-Blossom trees at the Sakura-Matsuri Festival,
we were drinking sakurayu. There were no worries about grades or assignments, just happiness that my
Nanijan (Hindi/Urdu: Grandmother) was there. Unfortunately, my grandmother would leave me, but my
new-found outlook of life assisted me in accepting my loss.

To me, wabi-sabi meant there was one rule: learning to be content with life. Let life runs its course.

Flaws exist, tragedies happen. Grow from them. Accept them. When you try to do something
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perfect or attempt to make something perfect, it just doesn’t work.

Some parts of the ‘old-me’ still remain, as I can’t instantly shed the previous eighteen years of my life.

But, I will definitely learn and improve over time. As Sonya once told me, even “the most beautiful
Japanese garden has weeds”. I realize that there is so much to see in this world. In this short time period I
call life, I am both a Gaijin (outsider) and a Yujin (friend). But above all, I am a Ningen (human) who
appreciates beauty in imperfection.

Works Cited
Powell, Richard R. Wabi Sabi Simple. Avon, MA: Adams Media, 2005. Print.

Bibliography Fujisawa, Chikao. Zen and Shinto; the Story of Japanese Philosophy. Westport, CT: Greenwood, 1971.

Print. Juniper, Andrew. Wabi Sabi: The Japanese Art of Impermanence. Boston: Tuttle Pub., 2003. Print.

Kamachi, Noriko. Culture and Customs of Japan. Westport, CT: Greenwood, 1999. Print.

Mansfield, Stephen, and Donald Richie. Japanese Stone Gardens: Origins, Meaning, Form. Tokyo: Tuttle
Pub., 2009. Print.

Tames, Richard. A Traveller's History of Japan. New York: Interlink, 1993. Print.

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