Omoiyari

Copyright

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First published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2020

FIRST EDITION

© Erin Niimi Longhurst 2020

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Cover illustrations © Ryo Takemasa

Internal illustrations © Ryo Takemasa

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Source ISBN: 9780008407629

Ebook Edition © July 2020 ISBN: 9780008407636

Version 2020-07-02

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Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Introduction

01 Omoi 思い

Mottainai (Avoiding Waste)

Kirei (Cleanliness and Organisation)

Teinei (Polite Conscientiousness)

Zakka (The Beauty of Miscellaneous Things)

02 Omoiyari 思いやり

Wa (Harmony)

Omotenashi (The Art of Selfless Hospitality)

Onkochishin (Learning from the Past)

Senbazuru (One Thousand Paper Cranes)

Omakase (To Entrust)

Conclusion

About the Author

Glossary

Acknowledgments

About the Publisher

Introduction

© Robert McConkey

During the 2018 World Cup, after a surprise victory against Colombia, Japanese football fans dominated headlines for reasons other than their country’s stellar performance on the pitch: following a historic win (and an excellent excuse to celebrate, if ever there was one), they meticulously cleared up the stadium, collecting litter as a sign of respect for their surroundings as guests.

For those who have been to Japan, stories like this might seem familiar. I’ve been lucky enough to hear many of them – examples of the spirit of omoiyari, the feelings of empathy and compassion that fuel the actions that people take for others. It’s demonstrated most clearly in the art of Japanese hospitality, but through various other practices and traditions, too.

Living as we do, in a divisive and rapidly changing world, I felt compelled to write this book, as rather than building walls and becoming too insular, I believe there is something crucial and extremely valuable in sharing perspectives, better understanding others and, in so doing, gaining a deeper understanding of ourselves. This is omoiyari.

And what better time to write about the concept of omoiyari, and caring for others and the world around us, than at the beginning of a new era? With the abdication of the Emperor Akihito on 30 April 2019, Japan entered a new imperial age, known as Reiwa period. Reiwa means ‘beautiful harmony’. The concept of wa, or harmony, is at the very heart of omoiyari. So it seems incredibly fitting to be able to explore and better understand these traditions, philosophies and practices during this time.

© Robert McConkey

GOOD DONE TO OTHERS IS GOOD DONE TO ONESELF.

Japanese proverb

What is Omoiyari?

It is difficult to define omoiyari without first explaining omoi, which is a bit of a challenge in itself. There are many homophones in the Japanese language, and the meaning behind words that might sound the same (especially to those who are not native speakers) has to become clear from the context – or, if written, from the kanji (the Japanese system of writing that utilises Chinese characters).

A person might be standing in front of you, straining from the weight of a box they have in their arms. They might tell you that the box is omoi – and in this context, you’d want to give them a hand with it, as it’s a heavy box. But as you might have guessed, this is not a book about heavy Japanese things.

Omoi in the context of this book, reflects the concept of thought. Omoi can refer to the way people think, or their feelings, emotions, sentiments or desires. Memories or recollections are omoide, which loosely translates to ‘thoughts that have come out, or have left’. I have a vivid childhood memory of being caught in the pantry in the middle of the night, jetlagged and elbow-deep in a bag of kappa ebisen (shrimp-flavoured crackers) by my grandfather. Rather than giving me the scolding I was bracing myself for, he took the opportunity to eschew a low-sodium diet he was on at the time (imposed by my grandmother and aunts) to join me in the feast. Breaking out the red-bean ice cream, he justified his actions by using the moment to make a good omoide with me.

Thoughts, memories and feelings can come and go. Something you have been pondering might suddenly come to you, arriving in your mind like a train pulling into its final destination (omoitsuku); and omoi can describe not only the thoughts in your mind, but also the way in which you think about things, too.

OMOIYARI IS A FORM OF SELFLESS COMPASSION.

Omoiyari is an extension of this thinking in relation to others – a type of projection. It is the combination of thought and the verb ‘to do’, but it is more than just thinking about doing something for other people. The simplest way to describe it might be to anticipate the needs of others, but in an altruistic way, imbued with sympathy, empathy – without the expectation of reward or anything in return. Doing something for gain, or with an ulterior motive, is perhaps the complete opposite of omoiyari as a concept. Omoiyari is a form of selfless compassion: putting yourself in the shoes of others, and from their perspective anticipating their needs – acting in a way that might make them at ease, happy or comfortable. It’s about heightening your awareness to the needs of those around you, and acting in a considerate way. In a Japanese restaurant, for example, you’ll often find hooks or other ways to stow your bags carefully, so they don’t end up scuffed on the floor (or, if you’re me, smelling like barbecued meat when you’re out having drinks and yakiniku skewers with your mates). Not having these things wouldn’t necessarily detract from your dining experience. However, being taken care of, and having someone anticipate the fact that you might not want that handbag you saved up for dragged along the floor gives you a nice feeling.

Why is this important though? Why must we anticipate the needs of others? If someone wants something, why don’t they simply ask for it? Why can’t we just communicate? These are all completely valid questions. Open communication is extremely important, as is asking for help when you need it.

But I think omoiyari is important because, on a larger scale, we need to try to understand perspectives and worldviews that might be outside of or in contrast to our own. Even if we disagree with them, there is always value in expanding our minds and trying to make sense of it all. There is a Japanese proverb that is particularly fitting here: ‘A frog in a well cannot conceive of the ocean’. I’ve always hated frogs, and it’s only just occurred to me that this proverb might be the reason why – I wouldn’t want to assume my perspective is the only one, or the correct one. Omoiyari might help you to keep an open mind, but with the added benefit of being kinder and more considerate to others in an attempt to make your environment a better place.

Gabriel Forsberg on Unsplash

© Shutterstock.com

What can omoiyari provide?

The cynic in me might argue that a culture of omoiyari came out of necessity in Japan – vital in keeping the peace for an island nation that, for 220 years, was isolated from the rest of the world. But I’m not a cynical person. My favourite part of Christmas Day is never the opening of presents (the performance element scares me. What if I hate it, and my face gives it away? It’s all the reasons why I’ve never liked improv), but about choosing and wrapping a thoughtful gift for someone that I think they might like, find useful or enjoy. Doing something that might make someone else’s day a little bit better, make them happier, even if it’s just making them more comfortable, is really such a joy. I don’t know if anything is more life-affirming than that.

What does omoiyari look like?

In order to care for others, you must first care for yourself. In order to anticipate the needs of others – to empathise – you must learn to recognise feelings within yourself, and understand what makes you tick. That’s why I’ve called the first part of this book ‘Omoi’, with a focus on how various philosophies, traditions and practices can help you to be mindful, respectful to your surroundings and to express yourself. Part One is about getting to know yourself better, whether that’s by being less wasteful, finding a system of organisation or even appreciating the beauty in the most mundane objects.

My first book, Japonisme, was all about finding contentment through different Japanese philosophies and practices – things like ikigai, wabi-sabi, shinrin-yoku (forest bathing) and calligraphy. With Omoiyari, I want to think more about the art of compassion – how we can bring joy into our own lives by bringing about happiness in the lives of others.

I want to encourage you all to be kind to yourselves. This might involve taking the time to perfect a craft, or pursue a passion that is wholly your own, or for your own enjoyment or benefit. The joy that comes from mastering a craft is something I learned from my Jiji, my Japanese grandfather. A shrewd businessman, and also a temple elder, he devoted a lot of his time to painting, cooking and other hobbies and mindful practices, despite a hectic work schedule, the demands of running a large business, as well as an active family life. They helped him to clear his mind and be creative in his thinking in other areas of his life. My aunt Taeko took up tea ceremony (chado) as a way to carve out time to pursue something that was outside the constraints of her job or family life – something that allowed her to connect with nature and her environment, and to appreciate specific moments of the year and the changing of the seasons. Growing up with these examples of ways in which to connect with ourselves has been invaluable to me. I find it particularly through cooking mindfully – nothing gives me greater clarity, comfort or joy than putting together all the parts of a meal. It’s my way of showing affection to myself.

My focus for Part Two, Omoiyari, is about how you bring this to others – through harmonious living, selflessness, paying respect where it’s due and showing appreciation. This might be done through gift-giving, cooking a meal for a loved one, celebrating key moments and even things like origami. Omoiyari is about extending your thoughts to others, not through words, but through action, and putting them into practice.

© Shutterstock.com

© Shutterstock.com

Striving to be more sympathetic, empathetic and considerate requires a degree of faith, and a healthy serving of trust in others. For some, this might mean letting their guard down and being vulnerable. This can yield some incredible results – like ordering omakase style (literally ‘I’ll leave it up to you’) at a restaurant. By putting the selection of dishes and ingredients completely in the hands of a chef – a virtual stranger – you do run the risk of getting a few dishes that might not be quite to your taste. However, it can also open your eyes to something completely new – unknown flavours and textures that can transform the way you think about food altogether. When you place your trust and faith in them, they can take you on a journey; you gain insight into their history, their likes and dislikes, their world and their vision. Then, having broadened your frame of reference, you can cast your net wider in the future. It’s often an incredibly intimate experience, but the spirit of omoiyari, which is an integral part of an omakase-style meal, results in a deep connection – one that is based on mutual respect.

Omoiyari is not about ulterior motives, furthering a business prospect or taking a romantic relationship to another level. It’s bigger than that – perhaps karmic – but I like to think it’s about leaving a place you’ve been in either the same way or better than you found it. It’s about respect – for yourself, for the ones around you and for the environment, too. And through this little book, I hope to help you achieve this – because even the smallest of considerate actions can make a world of difference.

Part 1:

Omoi

思い

If you look in a dictionary to find a direct translation of the word ‘omoi’, you’ll find ‘thought’, ‘feeling’, ‘emotion’ and ‘sentiment’. But it’s knowing and understanding these within ourselves which allows us to be empathetic, bestowing kind actions and thoughts onto others – compassion through the art of omoiyari.

I felt it important to highlight the role that our own thoughts, desires and passions play in this process. It’s not possible to be selfless without understanding the self; it’s impossible to be kind to others if we haven’t had the experience of being kind to ourselves.

In many respects, Japanese culture is hierarchical. This becomes especially apparent in a business context, or in any situation where keigo, or honorific speech, is used. Having said that, it also places significant importance on mutual respect, particularly intergenerationally. Celebration of Respect for the Aged Day, for example, is emblematic of the loyalty and appreciation shown to the elderly, and what can be learned from them, in terms of the experience and wisdom they have gained through the passage of time.

The importance of mutual respect, and conveying it, is not stated explicitly in Japanese culture, but performed through actions. The strict etiquette and cultural customs around body language, greetings, even things as seemingly unimportant as bathing, business cards and writing letters, can reveal so much about the way people interact, and give insight into a larger worldview.

This part of the book, ‘Omoi’, focuses very much on the self – activities and practices to encourage you to see things differently, set new habits and get in touch with your creative side. The aim is to help you find joy, satisfaction and appreciation in your life, whether through changing your mindset about what you use or consume, making your surroundings beautiful or taking a greater level of care in what you do.

© Shutterstock.com

© Shutterstock.com

© Shutterstock.com

Mint Images/Alamy Stock Photo

The first chapter, ‘Mottainai’ (a sense of regret over waste, or for things not meeting their full potential), focuses on how we can make what we have go further. I have a British father and a Japanese mother and was lucky enough to get to know and be very close to both sets of grandparents. All four grew up during the Second World War, and although on opposing sides, a culture of conservation was something they all had in common. It’s becoming more apparent now that these values are still significant, especially as sustainability is more important than ever. Respecting what we have, and ensuring that we don’t take it for granted, is at the heart of the mottainai philosophy.

My Jiji (Japanese for grandfather) was a huge influence in my life. He was the man responsible for shaping my understanding of the world. As chairman and CEO of a huge global corporation, he was a formidable and impressive man. I got to see and be inspired by his sharp mind, his business acumen, strong leadership skills and decision making. But I was truly blessed because I was also able to see the side of him that made this possible – a softer side, and one that was very spiritual. Observing him in his natural habitat on the weekends, as a temple elder and outside the hustle and bustle of Tokyo, I came to understand the practices and traditions he valued so highly. As an adult, I find myself employing some of those same techniques and practices in order to find stillness and a sense of calm, even at times when it can be a challenge.

During the weekend, he would go to our family home in Kamakura, a small coastal city just over an hour away from Tokyo. Kamakura is the former de facto capital of Japan and is steeped in history. Most notably, it is the home of the Tsurugaoka Hachimangu temple, where he spent a lot of his time.

In addition to painting and gardening, one of my clearest memories of him as I was growing up was how he spent his weekends cleaning the house. I distinctly remember rolling around the house during my school holidays, weakened by the oppressive Japanese summer heat, wondering whether or not I should offer help to Jiji as he carefully and tenderly took a straw broom across the engawa (a veranda next to the tatami-matted room). I’d often end up playing with my cousins or picking fights with my little sister, rather than offering assistance. It didn’t make sense to me at the time – a cleaner came to the house fairly frequently, we weren’t allowed shoes indoors and it never seemed that dirty.

What I’ve come to understand since is that making his home kirei, or clean and beautiful, was less about physically sweeping the dust away, but more about a performative ritual. The importance of the act came from the power it had to clear his mind, show respect and gratitude for the home he had worked so hard for and appreciation for my grandmother (who I call Baba), who helped him to raise their three children, and who was his main collaborator in the life that they built together. It is this mindset and approach that I will describe in greater detail in the chapter about cleanliness and organisation, or kirei.

Jiji practised mindfulness through his cleaning ritual. Not unlike the way in which some Japanese army generals practise ikebana, or the art of flower arranging, to clear their minds as they strategise, Jiji cleared his mind and thought about his next move as he swept.

He was also diligent, and teinei (precise, measured and thoughtful) in his approach – he brought the same tenacity and energy that made him so successful in the business world to the pursuit of his hobbies, too, whether painting, composing haiku or preparing your favourite meal if he knew you were visiting. He had a way of making you feel incredibly special; but the real skill lay in making so many people feel that way. There were over 2,000 people at his funeral, and each of them had a story about him to share with my family. While he was a naturally charismatic person, a lot of this was learned – he was able to influence and build relationships through listening and by paying attention to the details. In the chapter about being teinei, I expand upon this further. In the final chapter of ‘Omoi’, I explore the style and design phenomenon of zakka – finding the extraordinary in the mundane and ordinary. Zakka is about being an active curator in your home and, by extension, in your life. For my appreciation of this, I have to thank the women in my life – my mother, grandmother and aunts. Whether through calligraphy, ikebana, tea ceremony or cooking, their influence gave me an awareness of the possibilities that humble, everyday objects and activities can bring.