Returning to Durham this year, I found myself bearing a small, yet quite significant dread of some gloomy days to come, grey walks to the library desperately hanging on to as many layers as I can muster while also trying to shield myself from rain that seems to be advancing from all directions, a disjointed umbrella in tow. This may sound familiar to some of you and, for many of us, it is not a welcome thought. However, this year I consciously decided that this would be the year where I finally embrace this change in seasons and the inevitable onslaught of winter, not with anger or sadness, but with a sort of gentle acceptance— maybe even a little joy. In so doing, I was reminded of a trusty old friend, or rather, a sprinkle of wisdom and perspective that could be exactly what we all need now, as we are forced to accept the quite sudden descent from a mediocre at best summer into some slightly colder, slightly darker days.

I came across this concept some time ago, reading what is now one of my favourite books: ‘Never Let Me Go’ by Kazuo Ishiguro. Now I promise not to offer any spoilers, but the novel, fundamentally, is one of injustice and cruelty, an exposé and interrogation into what it means to be human and what we do to those who fall short of this title. The protagonists are cleverly crafted so when they are mistreated and denied basic levels of human dignity, we, as readers, desperately try to understand why they accept such treatment. We quietly will on for their rebellion, for them to rage against their condition and situation, yet all we are offered is a quiet acceptance and their somehow sustained gratitude for what they did have. On the surface it may be painful, annoying even, but on reflection, Ishiguro is subtly illustrating, through his narrative, the poignant Japanese philosophy of Mono No Aware.

I am sure we have all seen the common motif within Japanese culture and imagery of the cherry blossom. Over the years I have seen a rise in popularity within mainstream culture of these images, on bedroom walls and Pinterest boards, yet the reason for this prominence may be somewhat obscured. The cherry blossom is symbolic of this philosophy which has become central to Japanese culture. ‘Mono’ meaning ‘things’ is accompanied by ‘aware’ meaning sadness or sensitivity and, together, this refers to the feeling one gets when we are struck by the inherent impermanence of life. This philosophy not only demands that we accept the transience of life and our existence, but also that we appreciate it, even in our somewhat sadness that things are not forever. Lomas describes it as a “quiet rejoicing in the fact that we had the chance to witness the beauty of life at all.” The cherry blossom, or Sakura, is symbolic of this notion, as due to it blooming only once a year for a very limited time, it only serves to add to one’s appreciation of it. Robert Hass on experiencing the cherry blossom during a visit to Japan found that, on seeing them, “mingled with this happiness is a strange melancholy, borne of the knowledge that just as quickly as they arrived, they will disappear, leaving no more than a precious memory.” It is this feeling, this hovering between happiness and sadness, that perfectly encapsulates Mono No Aware.

Interestingly, this philosophy has undeniable echoes of Buddhism’s similar reverence and approbation for the quality of ‘impermanence’ which argues that it is clinging to the notion of permanence that ultimately causes suffering. Within Buddhism, one is persuaded of the necessary benefit in accepting that things are always changing, whether we like it or not; seasons change, but they will be back, while you may find yourself in a difficult situation now, nothing is permanent, and things will change. Unlike what perhaps my younger self may have felt, I find myself now inclined to agree; that there is much solace to be found in this attitude and by shifting our perspective on change from that of discomfort and resistance, it can instead offer reassurance as we venture through the trials and tribulations of life. It may even encourage us to be grateful, rather than resentful of the impermanent nature to all that we experience. To deny this is the case, is to ultimately deny yourself an important truth that we should not run away from. Life is, arguably, all the more beautiful because we have so little of it.

So when you find yourself mourning the transition from the long nights of summer, being able to walk out of the door without wearing half of your wardrobe or simply seeing some sun, I would encourage you to remind yourself that change is not only welcome, but inevitable and rather than fight against it, we should allow it to not only add to our appreciation, but to provide comfort. Without the depths of winter, we could not appreciate the height of summer— perhaps we should be grateful at seeing the golden leaves starting to fall, knowing they will be back again soon.

Image: Hannelore Becher on Flickr