Why Is Japanese Beauty So Quiet?

When I encounter Japanese aesthetics,
I love those moments
when I forget to blink
and a deep sigh escapes me.

When visiting shrines and temples,
vast spaces are filled with the most delicate forms of art.

Carvings adorning the balustrades.
Paintings on the ceilings.

When I take in everything around me,
I can feel the breath of the craftsmen
who created this beautiful art,
imbued within every detail.

Especially when it comes to shrines and temples,
when I think of how much of it was created by hand,
I cannot help but wonder—

how were they able to create
works so intricate,
so powerful,
so unwavering?

A feeling akin to awe
continues to well up within me.

When I face such unwaveringness,
the faint outlines of craftsmen from long ago
begin to emerge.

Perhaps it is this dialogue
that gives Japanese beauty its quietness.

How much time, effort, and feeling
must have been poured into creating that quietness?

Quietly,
the art itself,
its history,
everything that makes it what it is,
simply exists there,
quietly.

And yet, behind that quietness,
the vivid blood of the craftsmen
who once devoted themselves wholly
to the single piece before them
still flows.

A delicate finish
and blood that runs hot.

Two opposing qualities
give rise to a deep, beautiful quietness.