I read recently about the Japanese concept of Ma, a word that is hard to translate. The best I can do is that Ma is the very something-of-nothingness. And to understand it might well be vital for our health.
Today we are always on the go. We place so many demands upon ourselves. We are always contactable, with the ensuing impulse to constantly respond. We fill our holiday time with activities, and book our children into weekend clubs. We are constantly under pressure to complete endless to-do lists and we wonder why we find it hard to relax.
Instead, relaxation has become another agenda item. Something else to be added to the must-do list. Go to gym. Plan a walk. Book that yoga class. Research winter sun and hotels with kids clubs. But the fact that it has become an obligation is why it fails. You can’t suddenly ‘do’ relaxation just because your calendar dictates it’s so.
But then we don’t make it easy for ourselves. Gifted precious free moments, whether waiting to pick up our kids or sat on a delayed train, the default is most often to sit and scroll on our phones. Rest assured, I do it too. But the 17th Century French philosopher Blaise Pascal had us clocked even back then when he said, “All of humanity’s problems stem from man’s inability to sit quietly in a room alone.” As if to ram the point home, he continued, “Nothing is so intolerable to man as being fully at rest, without a passion, without business, without entertainment, without care.”
It’s a very human trait to always want to find something to do; to not be able to resist the temptation to be guided by our thoughts. In the absence of distraction, our brains can quickly turn to worry. So what easier thing to do than to swipe open our phones.
But this is where Ma comes in. The something-of-nothingness is the pause in a conversation, or music. It’s the interval, the deliberate moment of stopping. It is a gap that is very much something in being nothing, a suggestion by omission. And it’s beautifully captured in its written form… Ma combines door 門 and sun 日. Together these two characters depict a door through which the sunlight peeps in 間.
The traditional Japanese tea house is a definitive example of Ma in architectural design. There are no decorative fixtures or ornaments. The structural walls alone set the foundation for life to perform. The emptiness of the interior enhances appreciation for the experiences that pass through it — the momentary gatherings of people and objects. This is a refreshing way to look at a home; free from material attachment, it is about the life that occupies the space.
But what does this mean for everyday life?
Ma is the time and space life needs to breathe, to feel and connect. If we have no time, if our space is restricted, we cannot grow. This universal principle applies to every aspect of life. So, it is in the stopping in order to see the little things. To hear the sound of acorns dropping on the roof. To watch clouds. To see the blueness of the sky after a week of rain. To hear the happy little dream snuffles of your dog. It is your child’s excitable chatter when you pick them up from school.
We often focus on everything but these things because we are busy, or preoccupied. Everything else can quickly become more important.
But they’re not.
The peace we chase is found in letting go, getting out of our own way, and allowing relaxation and amazement at the something-of-nothingness in. It’s not easy. Pretty well nothing in contemporary life assists us in this. Even our primitive brains don’t help. But it is possible with practice. As Japan Unmasked author, Kiyoshi Matsumoto puts it, “There is a need for Ma in every aspect and every day of every individual’s life.”
So, with three months to go until another New Year, I’ve decided that now would be a jolly good time to try to embrace it. How about you?
PS Wim Wender’s film, Perfect Days, as discussed in my April Letter (see below), could be your homework/study, should you care to accept the Ma challenge.
What else is coming this month?
I can reveal that it’s a wrap on Season Six of Interior Design Masters, so that means ten more fabulous designers coming your way next Spring, leading to two amazing finalists and one incredible winner. I swear, the designs get better and better every year and I can’t wait to share more as soon as I’m able.
However I now have more time for research and writing, which fills me with much joy. One thing I’ve prepared for you is my first Workbook! A 37-page guide to Manifesting your Healthy Home in six simple steps. In truth, because of the way I’ve structured it, although the prompts are for home, you could follow the process and use it as the framework for manifesting anything you want. This download will be for subscribers only though because it’s pretty epic! But well worth a month’s subscription, if you want to access it as a one-off.
What else will I be covering this month? There’s a book called Food Isn’t Medicine, by Dr Joshua Woolwich, which left me feeling rather annoyed (understatement); I shall explain why. I also delved into why Aristotle is the first father of happiness, with his tips for living your best life. I’d like to discuss a new report from the Institute for Public Policy Research that names the UK as the “sick man of Europe”, a phrase usually employed for when a country is going through economic turbulence, but in this case it’s meant quite literally — more people than ever in the UK are suffering from chronic conditions — so what do we need to do about it. Then I think we should probably address what you need to do to get your home Winter ready; and likely much more!
Life too often feels like a race we are destined to lose at. Endless to-do-lists, brain chatter and responsibilities make it so challenging to just be, to find peace in nothingness. I love the thought and for me, I’m trying hard to sit in my garden staring at clouds, listening to birds and just enjoying the moment. I think it’s so important to strive to educate our children on the importance of doing nothing, getting away from screens and noise and just letting our bodies be.
I rather enjoy being stuck on a train or in traffic (within reason) because I can just switch off and not feel guilty about it because, nothing else I can do! I’m going to spend some time trying to understand where this guilt comes from. I have a fair idea; just the way our society has taught me but I want to get beneath that idea - if I understand it’s ‘wrongness’ why can’t I disregard it.