Accepting Impermanence & Wabi Sabi
This essay initially appeared in the Monday morning newsletter on 3/25/24.
A few weeks ago, Matt and I finished watching the series finale of the mid-2000s ABC hit, Desperate Housewives. We had been looking for a new TV show to watch and wanted something with a hefty backlog of episodes to prevent the question of, ‘what should we watch next?’ for a bit.
For how ridiculous the show could be at times with its soap opera-esque plotlines, the eight seasons of Desperate Housewives ended up being a perfect choice for us. We were instantly hooked, laughed a lot, and had some good conversations prompted by the shenanigans on Wisteria Lane.
Without giving too much away about the series finale – for those who have not seen – I will just say that the show was wrapped up with themes of endings, new beginnings and everyday routines changing. For as silly as the show was, I watched the final few minutes with tears in my eyes that then turned into a full-on blubbering mess when the credits rolled for the last time.
Between sobs, I tried to get out to Matt that I was crying because “we would never watch a new episode of Desperate Housewives together”… which then, made us both burst out laughing because of the ridiculousness of that statement.
Because after all, it wasn’t really the show I was sad about ending; it was the routine we had cultivated. For the past couple of months, we had the tradition of eating dinner and watching an episode together. I especially loved Sundays, when we would sometimes watch two, having a peaceful, cozy night before the rush of the workweek started.
Spiraling – as one does in that blubbery state – I started thinking about all the days that would one day end / change. Like how much we love our apartment… but know we won’t be here forever. How, one day, my routines that I know like the back of my hand right now will be distant memory.
While I also feel so much excitement for things to come, whenever I get stuck in this particular thought loop about endings (and it’s a common one for me!), I feel this overwhelming sense of melancholy.
Though recently, I’ve found a concept that is helping me reframe how I think about endings.
It’s called Wabi Sabi, and it’s an ancient philosophy closely tied to Japanese culture. It’s a philosophy that’s all about seeing beauty in imperfection, appreciating simplicity and accepting that change in inevitable. As one book title on the concept even puts it, it’s the “Japanese Art of Impermanence.”
I came across the concept while reading Beth Kempton’s (author of my favorite book about the Christmas season!) Wabi Sabi, Japanese Wisdom for a Perfectly Imperfect Life.
I enjoyed flipping through the various parts of Beth’s book and learning more about wabi sabi, though there is one line in particular that really resonated with me.
In the book, Beth writes “Wabi sabi is an acceptance and appreciation of the impermanent, imperfect and incomplete nature of everything.”
Accepting and appreciating the impermanence? Seeing it spelled out like that really stopped in my tracks and made me think.
If you knew a year from now, things would look different – in a good way – what would be different about today? If you knew the things you were hoping for right now would be your reality a year from now, what does that change? Suddenly, today is not just a Monday that you muddle through on autopilot. Suddenly, the ordinary things about today feel extraordinary. Thinking this way, I find myself more appreciative of things like my running path along the lake, sitting at my desk in the bay window, using my favorite coffee cup, watching a TV show while eating dinner with Matt.
As this article puts it, wabi sabi gives us the following philosophy for approaching life: “Accept what is, stay in the present moment, and appreciate the simple, transient stages of life.”
That’s the mindset I’m taking with me into today and this week.
If you also feel the bittersweet pangs about things coming to an end and changing, I hope this helps you or makes you think too.