The Japanese Spiritual Worldview

Chapter Six

Impermanence and the Constant-in-Change — A Philosophy of Passing

第六章 — 無常と不易流行・移ろいの哲学

Introduction — What Flows Beneath It All

Thus far we have made a long journey. Beginning with nature, where the gods dwell, passing through the arrival of Buddhism, we followed the three axes of Zen, bushidō and the way of tea, and in the previous chapter drew out the aesthetic of ma, mu and yohaku that runs through them.

And beneath all of it, one sense has flowed most deeply of all. Impermanence — the sense of time in which all things pass and nothing remains.

In the first chapter, we saw that Buddhism brought this sense to Japan. In this chapter we return once more to this "impermanence," and see into what aesthetic it grew in Japan, and into what wisdom it at last crystallised. It is Bashō's "the constant and the changing" (fueki-ryūkō) — the most mature attainment of the Japanese spirit, concerning what passes and what does not. It is the chapter that closes this essay in thought.

I. How to Live Impermanence — Not Resignation

"All things pass, and in time perish." Before this fact of impermanence, how does one live?

Here lies the most singular choice of Japanese spiritual culture. Impermanence was received not as pessimism or as giving-up, but rather as a forward-facing sense. The vision of impermanence is no resignation that says, "Since it will vanish anyway, it is meaningless." On the contrary, it was an affirming sense: "Because there is change, this present instant is precious."1

This turn was touched upon in the first chapter, but here let us see its depth anew. Why could the Japanese receive impermanence so affirmingly? One reason is said to lie in the climate of the four seasons.2 Cherry blossom in spring, fireflies in summer, the moon in autumn, frost in winter — few are the lands that have loved the passing of the seasons, and woven it into life, as deeply as Japan.2 In this soil, where the seasons change without cease, people accepted passing not as an enemy but as the natural, ordinary form of nature. Not to oppose nature but to melt into it, to give oneself to the flow that decays and is reborn — this was felt to be beautiful.3

Without the vision of impermanence, it is said, one cannot understand the Japanese sense of beauty.3 The wabi-sabi of the fourth chapter, the ma, mu and yohaku of the previous chapter — all were built upon this foundation of impermanence. Because it passes, the now is precious. Because it is not complete, there is savour. This sense lay at the root of all Japanese beauty.

II. The Falling Cherry Blossom — Mono no Aware

There is one thing that most symbolises the aesthetic of impermanence. The cherry blossom.

The cherry is a flower in which the height of life and its end cross in a single instant.4 Even while intoxicated by the splendour of full bloom, one is already aware of the "moment of falling," and feels a sorrow in it.4 To bloom and, at the same moment, begin to fall — by that very fleetingness the Japanese have been moved to the depths. They saw beauty not in the figure blazing in full bloom, but in the figure falling without reserve.

This sensibility, in which the heart is moved at the touch of what passes, Japanese literature called mono no aware. Spread through the Tale of Genji in the Heian period, this sensibility points to the feeling of "the heart being deeply, quietly moved at the touch of things."5 To feel beauty and ache at once before the falling cherry, to savour light and loneliness at once before the setting sun — this is the very type of mono no aware.5

What matters is that fleetingness was not merely lamented as "being lost," but that the great stirring of the heart in that very moment of passing was itself held precious.5 Saigyō, composing on the cherry, neither lamented the fleetingness that came after the falling, but rather sang the scene calmly.6 There dwelt, at once, a passion for impermanence and a maturity that quietly accepts it.6

III. "Are Flowers to Be Seen Only at Their Height?" — The Eye of Kenkō

The one who crystallised this aesthetic into a single phrase was the monk Kenkō, who wrote the late-Kamakura essay Tsurezuregusa.

In its 137th passage is a famous line: "Are flowers to be seen only at their height, the moon only when unclouded?"7 — that is: is the flower to be seen only in full bloom, the moon only as the full, unwaning orb? No, it is not so.7

In the half-fallen flower, in the moon hidden by cloud, too, there is charm. There, rather, lies a deep savour. This single line shows, in brief, the aesthetic of the whole Tsurezuregusa.7 Kenkō's vision of impermanence, too, was no resignation. Because things change, the charm of an instant is born; because they are not perfect, savour arises — it is the gaze that finds beauty in what is slightly lacking rather than in what is wholly complete.7

Here, all we have seen thus far sounds together. The subtraction of Zen in the second chapter, the beauty of the imperfect of wabi-sabi in the fourth, the asymmetry of the previous chapter — all flowed out of this spirit of "are flowers to be seen only at their height," that is, of the aesthetic of impermanence in which "beauty dwells precisely in the imperfect, the passing."

IV. The Constant and the Changing — Change and Changelessness Are One

And this Japanese reflection upon impermanence arrives at a single, mature wisdom. In the Edo period, the principle Matsuo Bashō found within haikai: "the constant and the changing" (fueki-ryūkō).

If all things pass, is there nowhere anything unchanging? Bashō's answer is profound. "Fueki" is what does not change across the ages. "Ryūkō" is what changes according to each moment.8 These two, seemingly opposed, are in Bashō bound at the root into one.8

Bashō's disciple Mukai Kyorai sets it down thus in his treatise Kyoraishō: "Knowing not the constant, the foundation can scarcely stand; knowing not the changing, the style is not made new."9 Without knowing what does not change, the foundation does not stand; without knowing what changes, no newness is born.9 Another disciple, Hattori Dohō, called its root "the sincerity of poetic elegance" (fūga no makoto).10

This was one profound answer to the question of impermanence. All things pass (the changing). Yet, running through that passing, there is an unchanging essence (the constant). And the unchanging is preserved precisely by changing on and on. Passing and eternity are not opposed. They are the two sides of one thing.

Neither to lament impermanence nor to resist it. To accept the passing, and within that passing to find an unchanging sincerity — Bashō's "constant and changing" was the most mature ground at which the sense of impermanence the Japanese nurtured over a thousand years at last arrived.

Conclusion — The Journey's End, and Beginning

What we have seen in this chapter is the "impermanence" that flowed beneath all of this essay, and the "constant-in-change" into which it crystallised.

Looking back, our journey has traced a single great circle. The prologue's "nature, where the gods dwell" — a sensibility that sees gods within the passing of the four seasons. The "impermanence" Buddhism brought in the first chapter. It ran through the three axes of Zen, bushidō and the way of tea, gave birth to the aesthetic of ma, mu and yohaku, and bore fruit at last in Bashō's "the constant and the changing." Beginning with passing and ending in a philosophy of passing — the Japanese spiritual worldview was, consistently, a reflection upon "passing."

And this attainment, the "constant and the changing," speaks quietly even to us who live in the present. To keep what does not change while changing on. To hold the old dear while opening to the new. It is a deep wisdom for every endeavour that sways between tradition and renewal.

In the next chapter — the epilogue — we wish to ask what this two-thousand-year spiritual worldview means in a present that gathers ever more speed. Why does the world, now, find itself drawn to Japanese spiritual culture? And how does this great current connect to a single cup of tea, a single bowl of fermentation, a once-only journey — to concrete experience? With that question, let us bring this long journey to its close.

Notes & Sources

This is the sixth chapter of the white paper "The Japanese Spiritual Worldview." The facts stated rest on the sources cited. "Mono no aware" is a concept theorised by Motoori Norinaga in his studies of the Tale of Genji and others, and its interpretation admits a range of scholarly views. "Fueki-ryūkō" was not set down systematically by Bashō himself, but is a principle transmitted through the haikai treatises of his disciples (the Kyoraishō, the Sanzōshi). This chapter's connection of impermanence, mono no aware and the constant-and-changing is the author's ordering, based on a general understanding of the history of Japanese aesthetics, and does not assert a strict causation in literary history. Primary sources (the Tsurezuregusa, the Tale of Genji, the Kyoraishō, etc.) will be reinforced in future revisions.

Footnotes

  1. "The Thought of 'Fleetingness' in Japanese Aesthetics," Shisakuteki, Nichijō (on the vision of impermanence being received, rather than as "change is unavoidable," as the forward-facing sense that "because there is change, this present instant is precious," and on its being the ground on which the Japanese feel beauty in fleetingness). https://note.com/shisa_nichi/n/n8f835c83508c ↩

  2. "An Attempt to Trace the Source of Beauty: What is 'Mono no Aware'?," Ijima Shū (on no other land loving the passing of the four seasons and weaving it into life as Japan, the beauty of spring cherry, summer fireflies, autumn moon and winter frost lying in their fleetingness, not their permanence, and feeling drawn to what passes). https://note.com/geric_plankton/n/nd3609d2771e7 ↩ ↩2

  3. "Impermanence," Nomura Art (on impermanence being accepted in bond with the four-season climate of Japan, not opposing nature but melting into it and giving oneself to the flow that decays and is reborn being felt beautiful, and on it being impossible to understand the Japanese aesthetic without the vision of impermanence). https://nomurakakejiku.jp/lesson_lineup/mujou ↩ ↩2

  4. "An Attempt to Trace the Source of Beauty: What is 'Mono no Aware'?," Ijima Shū (on the cherry as a flower in which the height of life and its end cross in a single instant, one being already aware of the moment of falling and feeling sorrow even while intoxicated by full bloom). https://note.com/geric_plankton/n/nd3609d2771e7 ↩ ↩2

  5. "The Thought of 'Fleetingness' in Japanese Aesthetics," Shisakuteki, Nichijō (on "mono no aware" as the sense, spread through Heian literature and especially the Tale of Genji, of "the heart being deeply moved at the touch of things"; on savouring beauty and ache at once before the falling cherry and the setting sun; and on holding precious the heart's being stirred in the very moment of fleetingness). https://note.com/shisa_nichi/n/n8f835c83508c ↩ ↩2 ↩3

  6. "The Ancients Enchanted by the Cherry," Sakura Hyakkei (on Saigyō moving from the cherry in full bloom to the cherry falling without reserve, singing the scene calmly rather than lamenting the fleetingness after the falling, and ever harbouring passion, solitude and the vision of impermanence toward the cherry). https://gb-link.net/sakura_02-2/ ↩ ↩2

  7. "What is the Tsurezuregusa? The Aesthetic Kenkō Found in 'Impermanence,'" Three-Minute Classics of Japan (on Kenkō's vision of impermanence being not resignation but the sense that "because things change the charm of an instant is born, because they are not perfect savour arises"; and on the 137th passage "are flowers to be seen only at their height, the moon only when unclouded?" finding charm in the half-fallen flower and cloud-hidden moon, showing the whole essay's aesthetic). https://3min-bungaku.blog/tsurezuregusa/ ↩ ↩2 ↩3 ↩4

  8. "Fueki-Ryūkō," Kotobank (Encyclopedia Nipponica, etc.) (on "fueki" as what is changeless across the ages, "ryūkō" as what changes at each moment, the two not opposed but one at root, Bashō calling it "the sincerity of poetic elegance"). https://kotobank.jp/word/不易流行-123091 ↩ ↩2

  9. "Fueki-Ryūkō," Weblio Dictionary / Mukai Kyorai, Kyoraishō (1702–04) (on the source and meaning of the Kyoraishō's "knowing not the constant, the foundation can scarcely stand; knowing not the changing, the style is not made new"). https://www.weblio.jp/content/不易流行 ↩ ↩2

  10. "What is Fueki-Ryūkō?," Japan Haiku Society / Hattori Dohō, Sanzōshi (on the root of the constant-and-changing being "the sincerity of poetic elegance," and on "in the master's elegance there is the eternal-constant; there is the change of a moment; these two are exhausted, and their root is one"). https://jphaiku.jp/how/huekiryuukou.html ↩