Every Tuesday afternoon I have a Zoom meeting with a handful of women in recovery who are particularly dear to my heart. It’s not a formal 12-step meeting, rather one of our own creation. We start with the Serenity prayer, read 2–3 inspirational, spiritual, or thought-provoking passages that one of us has posted in our WhatsApp group, meditate for 5 minutes, and then take turns sharing. One of the tenets of recovery gatherings is that there is no crosstalk. That leaves the space open to say whatever comes to mind or feels imperative without the risk of feedback or resistance. Our words land and are absorbed. That’s it.
This past week I learned about the term Wabi-Sabi. While I was supposed to be meditating, I looked up the meaning and found several renditions. Wikipedia attributes it to the Buddhist teaching on existence, which includes the themes of impermanence, suffering, and the absence of self-nature. The more prominent and mainstream explanations attribute it to Japanese cultural teachings. In Far Eastern countries, Wabi-Sabi describes the philosophy of finding beauty in imperfection, impermanence, and simplicity. Through a psychological lens, it’s about being aware of and accepting of flaws, transience, and the mundane. The challenge is to find beauty in the rhythms and bits of brokenness in everyday life.
This ideology is the antidote to perfectionism, hyper productivity, and the harshness of our current definitions of beauty. Wabi-sabi teaches that beauty often resides in the “patina” of age. (Psychology Today – Mark Travers, Ph.D.) I find comfort and resonance in this philosophy.
Our western media celebrates perfection in our bodies, our clothes, our homes and our past times. The patina of my face, which looks a lot like sunspots, broken capillaries and wrinkles, is considered something to be erased, pulled or cut out. The laugh lines that confirm decades of joyous and fun moments are to filled. The evidence of living expunged into a smooth vinyl finish.
Over this past weekend I was admonished, not for the first time, by one of my daughters, for my lackadaisical (absent) skin care regimen. She was horrified that I didn’t apply Vitamin C serum in the morning before my barrier cream, which she assumed I applied daily. What about hyaluronic acid? What kind do you use? The silence was filled quickly with fingers tapping, hand me your credit card, and a few days later, various small brown boxes of creams and serums landed on my porch. A morning and evening step-by-step routine was texted to me, to be posted beside my bathroom mirror. This morning I purged the cabinet above my sink to make room for the new miracle fluids, placing them in order of application. I even have a “leave on overnight” collagen mask. Thankfully, sleep comes easily to me as it makes my face feel tight, and the temptation to peel it off while I lie reading is excruciating.
I’m now wondering if my new regime is hypocritical against the Wabi-Sabi doctrine. I accept that at best I may notice my skin is softer, more hydrated and smoother to the touch. Appreciating my reflection in the mirror, with its faults, discolourations and cracks, is my intention. Finding what feels good, rather than prioritizing what looks good, is a positive step as well. Knowing that nothing is forever, we all have an expiry date, and being real and comfortably imperfect is my Wabi-Sabi credo.