The Japanese Spiritual Worldview

Chapter Five

Ma, Mu, and the Beauty of Emptiness

第五章 — 間・無・余白・日本の美意識

Introduction — The Single Thread Running Through the Three Axes

Thus far we have followed three axes — Zen, bushidō, and the way of tea. Each belongs to a different realm: a religion of meditation, the ethics of a warrior, the art of hospitality. Yet, having followed them to the end, a single thread running through all of them comes into view.

Simplicity. Empty space. The paring away. The here and now. The heart that holds what passes tender — these had appeared, in changed form, in each of the three axes: in the empty space of the dry garden of Zen, in the pared-down resolve of the warrior, in the simplicity of the tea room.

In this chapter we wish to draw out that common thread itself. It is the deepest principle of beauty, running beneath every domain of Japanese culture — painting, architecture, music, even conversation — beyond any single axis. The Japanese have called this principle by three words: ma (the interval), mu (nothingness), and yohaku (empty space).

I. Yohaku — Speaking by Not Drawing

Let us begin with the most readily visible: yohaku, the empty space.

Look at Japanese painting, and often the greater part of the surface is left as blank, with nothing drawn upon it. The empty space of the ink-wash painting, seen in the second chapter, is its very type. But this blank is neither a "place forgotten" nor "the unfinished." Rather, that empty space carries the essence of the work.

In calligraphy, a skilled hand is said to "write" not only the characters drawn in ink but also the empty white of the paper.1 The blank between character and character, between line and line, determines the dignity of the work. With both the black of ink and the white of paper, the whole sheet forms a single work.1

One photographer puts this sense thus: a Western viewer may find beauty in the "thousands of flowers" blooming in full across a surface. But the Japanese, who know the beauty of blank space, find beauty in "a single flower" and the empty space around it.2 By not crowding, by leaving empty space, the essence stands out all the more — this is the "beauty of empty space" that runs through Japanese art.3

II. Ma — Empty Space within Time

If yohaku is the beauty of space, then what carries it over into time is ma — the interval.

Ma is, in music, the rest; in conversation, the time of silence.3 In Noh theatre and in the way of tea, "silence" plays a decisive role. The stillness placed between sound and sound, between gesture and gesture, heightens the tension, draws out the imagination of the beholder, and lets the lingering resonance of feeling be savoured deeply.4

This ma is not for the stage of art alone. It is rooted deeply in the everyday dialogue of the Japanese. To wait a beat upon the other's words, to place a silence between word and word — such ma is held precious in Japanese conversation.4 There, silence is no awkwardness or void. It is an expression of a heart that respects the other, an eloquent time that speaks more than words.4

Against a Western approach that seeks to fill with things, the Japanese sensibility grasps the empty space, the silence, of ma as lingering resonance, as savour.5 In the spoken word, in music, in architecture — into every scene of Japanese culture, this ma breathes. Not to add and fill, but to leave open on purpose, and let a richness dwell there. This is none other than the spirit of "subtraction," seen through the previous chapters, appearing in the dimension of time.

III. Mu — Nothingness is Richness

Why, then, does Japanese culture honour "blank space" and "silence" so deeply? At its root lies one profound worldview: the Buddhist thought of mu (nothingness) and kū (emptiness).

Here is a decisive contrast. The word "nothingness" is grasped in wholly different senses by the West and by Japan.6

In the Christian worldview, "nothingness" is the antonym of "being" — merely the state of nothing being there, a lack, a void.6 But in Buddhism, "nothingness" holds the very opposite meaning: "That nothing is there is abundance; in truth, much is contained therein."6 To be empty is not poverty. It is, rather, a full and sufficient state, pregnant with every possibility.

In this single point lies the root of the whole Japanese aesthetic.

When one arranges a single flower, the Western sense lays its weight on how beautifully to show the flower itself. But in Japanese flower arrangement, if the single flower melts into the space around it, that is felt to be beautiful.6 The "nothingness" around the flower is no void but a rich field that gives the flower life. As empty space gives the painting life, silence the music, the interval the conversation — so "nothingness" is the womb that gives everything life.

Here, recall the contrasts of the prologue. Is the kami "outside" nature, or does it dwell "within"? Is the Buddha given from outside, or does it appear from within (chapter two)? And is "nothingness" a lack, or an abundance? These are all different appearances of one and the same worldview. Japanese spiritual culture has consistently found the deepest richness within the unseen, the formless, the empty.

IV. Asymmetry — Avoiding the Perfect

This aesthetic takes one more characteristic form: fukinsei — the beauty that deliberately avoids symmetry.

In the classical art and architecture of the West, left-right symmetry has been held the ideal.7 A Greek temple, the Palace of Versailles — a stately symmetrical composition expresses authority and perfection.7

The Japanese aesthetic chose the opposite path. Look at a Japanese garden: a small stone beside a great one, a low planting near a tall tree — the balance is broken on purpose.7 Flower arrangement, too, is almost never set symmetrically. With a triangular composition of principal, secondary and attendant, it gives movement and depth to space.7

Why avoid perfect symmetry? Behind it lies the thought that "what is too perfect has no room to grow."7 Symmetry is beautiful, yet somewhere it has "concluded." Asymmetry, by contrast, gives rise to movement and lingering resonance — a sense that "something more may yet happen."7 This is the same spirit as the "beauty of the imperfect" of wabi-sabi, seen in the fourth chapter. Rather than what is complete and closed, what is unfinished and open. There, precisely, the Japanese aesthetic saw richness.

To avoid the perfect was also the aesthetic practice of the worldview of "impermanence," seen in the first chapter — that all things pass, and nothing stays at completion.

Conclusion — Toward the Passing

What we have drawn out in this chapter is the single thread running through the three axes — the core of the Japanese aesthetic, ma, mu, and yohaku.

Yohaku appears in space, ma in time, asymmetry in form. But their root all leads to the Buddhist "nothingness" — a worldview that sees the nothing-there as abundance. Japanese spiritual culture has found the deepest beauty not in adding and filling, but in paring away and leaving open. This is the principle at the very depth of the culture, running through Zen, through bushidō, and through the way of tea alike.

And in the still deeper ground of this sensibility that honours "nothingness" and "empty space" lies one more fundamental worldview. All things pass and do not stay — impermanence. To avoid the perfect, to love the imperfect, to see beauty in the fleeting — all are rooted in this deep sense of time, that the world is forever passing.

In the next chapter, we enter the sense of "passing" itself, which flows beneath all that this essay has followed. Impermanence, and one wisdom that sought to rise above it — Bashō's "the constant and the changing." It is the most mature attainment of the Japanese spirit, concerning what changes and what does not, and it will be the thought's closing of this essay.

Notes & Sources

This is the fifth chapter of the white paper "The Japanese Spiritual Worldview." The facts stated rest on the sources cited. "Ma," "mu," "yohaku" and "kū" are polysemous, and their definitions and emphases differ by field — religious studies, aesthetics, architecture. This essay grasps them across these fields from the cultural side of the Japanese aesthetic, and is distinct from the specialist definition of "emptiness" (kū) as Buddhist doctrine. The contrast "West = symmetry and filling / Japan = asymmetry and empty space" is an ordering of tendencies and does not exclude the diversity and exceptions within either culture. Primary sources and specialist literature will be reinforced in future revisions.

Footnotes

  1. "What is the Distinctive Character of Japanese Art?," Kyōyō Kyōshitsu (on the blank between character and character, line and line, determining the dignity of a work in calligraphy; and on a skilled hand being said to "write" not only the ink but also the white of the paper, the whole sheet composing one work). https://kyoyo-kyoshitsu.com/posts/japanese-art-wabi-sabi-yohaku-asymmetry ↩ ↩2

  2. "The Spatial Aesthetic of Ma and Empty Space Inherent in the Japanese," FUURYUU (on the Western viewer feeling the "thousands of flowers" filling a surface to be beautiful, while the Japanese, who feel the beauty of blank space, find beauty in "a single flower"; on the aesthetics of the moment of falling and of the unfinished as peculiar to Japan). https://fuuryuu.jp/technique/margin ↩

  3. "What is the Distinctive Character of Japanese Art?," Kyōyō Kyōshitsu (on ma as the musical rest and the conversational silence, arising from the same sense as the painterly yohaku; and on the thought that, by not over-crowding and leaving room, the essence stands out all the more). https://kyoyo-kyoshitsu.com/posts/japanese-art-wabi-sabi-yohaku-asymmetry ↩ ↩2

  4. "What is the Aesthetic of Ma?," Japanese Tradition (on silence playing an important role in Noh and the way of tea, heightening tension, drawing out imagination, becoming a time to savour resonance; and on everyday conversation, too, valuing the ma of "waiting upon the other" and "placing a beat," silence being an expression of a heart that respects the other). https://japanese-tradition.com/ ↩ ↩2 ↩3

  5. "The Sensibility of 'Ma' in Japanese," Kimura Mitsunori (on the Western approach that fills with things, against the Japanese approach that grasps the empty space and silence of "ma" as lingering resonance and savour). https://note.com/mitsunori_kimura/n/n985dac66a4d5 ↩

  6. "Ma and Yohaku," Shibata Yūsuke (on "Ma" and "Yohaku" deriving from the Buddhist "nothingness" and "emptiness"; on Christianity holding "nothingness" as the antonym of "being," merely nothing being there, while Buddhism holds "that nothing is there is abundance, in truth much is contained therein"; and on a single flower being felt beautiful when it melts into space in flower arrangement). https://note.com/shibata_huls/n/n49d36a82fb5d ↩ ↩2 ↩3 ↩4

  7. "What is the Distinctive Character of Japanese Art?," Kyōyō Kyōshitsu (on Western classical art and architecture holding symmetry as the ideal, expressing authority and perfection, while Japanese art chooses asymmetry on purpose; on "what is too perfect has no room to grow," finding movement and resonance in asymmetry; and on the asymmetry of the Japanese garden and flower arrangement). https://kyoyo-kyoshitsu.com/posts/japanese-art-wabi-sabi-yohaku-asymmetry ↩ ↩2 ↩3 ↩4 ↩5 ↩6