That Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul September 12, 2009

Time for some honesty. I’ve been wrestling with acedia for months now. It’s impacted my practice as a monastic, my service as a priestess and my relationships with other people.

I find myself wanting to withdraw more and more, unwilling to engage with others and unable to voice my discontent in ways that encourage others to help me find solutions rather than listen to me compalin.

I have the feeling that I’m waiting for something special to happen, but I don’t know what that might be. In the meantime I rationalize my lack of activity and dedication with “what ifs” and the notion that when that special thing arrives, all will be made clear.

I distract myself with nonessentials. All I want to do these days is drink tea and read pointless fiction and play video games online. So not what a Pagan nun — or anybody, really — ought to be spending entire days doing.

I resent and envy those of my friends who have goals and are seeking to accomplish them, who are in training for services or jobs that will benefit them and help them benefit others, and who are motivated to do something rather than feel stuck and helpless. I don’t do anything to get myself out of the rut, however.

This has gone on for months now, but only recently have I recognized it in myself, with that kind of hard-edged clarity that comes to alcoholics and abusers when they realize that yes, they have a problem and it’s up to them and them alone to find a way to fix it.

I’ve learned something valuable through all this, however. It’s not that I can’t do my job when it arises, when it’s forced into my face and I must deal with it or fail. When my friends need me, I can be there instantly. When I’m needed in my community, I spring into action. When someone I care about is harmed or is in need of solace or support, I have endless resources of enthusiasm and compassion to draw on.

Acedia does not stop me from attending to emergencies and people’s needs in times of desperation. What it does do is make me less likely to want to deal with the in-betweens, the times when nobody is having a crisis and the community is at rest, the times when I am not needed to counsel or bear witness or make food or drive people home late at night. Acedia is the foe of the everyday, rather than the enemy and obstacle of the extraordinary. This is something that people have to learn for themselves, and probably why Kathleen Norris does not come out and state this in her book. Or maybe she does, and I haven’t been able to hear the message until now.

It’s easier for me to go out of my way to be kind to my housemates when they are experiencing difficulty or facing unpleasant tasks than it is for me to be patient with their human and understandable habits. It’s easier for me to forgo acknowledgment for doing something like organizing a weekend-long gathering than it is for me to continue to do ordinary tasks day in and day out with neither thanks nor recognition. It’s easier for me to make grand gestures of love and devotion towards my gods rather than to keep Their ordinary home fires burning, so to speak, night after night, whether I am cognizant of Their presence or not.

This is why acedia has been said to be hardest on the novice and the inexperienced monk — because early on in one’s monastic career, one hasn’t yet had time to learn that the true enemy of disciplined religious devotion isn’t a need for the continuously spectacular, but letting the toil and drudgery of the everyday wear you down.

I can deal with crises just fine. It’s everyday life that I struggle with, and that causes me to lose faith in my purpose and enthusiasm for my vocation.

So what can I do about this? I’ve learned that rote repetition does nothing for me, spiritually. I’ve tried that and it doesn’t work. What does work is doing things wholeheartedly when it’s time to do them, and being mindful of the process even if I’m not always regular and disciplined. I’ve not been doing that enough lately. Paying attention is, after all, half the work of becoming wise.

I’ve realized that I’ve been reading the Norris acedia book with less than an open mind, certain that it didn’t apply to me — but flipping back through it, I can see that it most certainly does. People often run across certain things in our lives — books, movies, music, places, other people, random messages — for a reason, often not discernible until much later. The reason I’ve got this book right now is fairly obvious. I’ve decided to go back and start at the beginning of Acedia and Me and read it more mindfully. Denial is never a useful mindset for a monk or a nun, after all.

This entry has been embarrassing to write. There might even be people out there thinking, “Ha! I knew all this nun stuff was bullshit.” But I am committed to being honest about my spiritual journey as a monastic, and if that means I occasionally have to reveal myself as a bumbling idiot with no idea what I’m doing, so be it. I have never claimed to be an expert or authority on how to live a life of Pagan religious devotion, and I’m sure that my version is going to be a lot different than most people’s — if only for the fact that it’s a liminal trickster deity and a goddess of the underworld who are calling my shots.

Your mileage may vary, and your tea-time may be much shorter or longer than mine. I hope some of what I’ve said here is useful if you’ve been laboring under acedia, or suspect that you may be.

Well, then… September 1, 2009

I haven’t updated in a while because I’ve been either out of town, or busy, or both. I hope to write a review of the Kathleen Norris book I’m still reading, and perhaps get back on track with more general posts about living as a monastic Pagan.

The thing is, I have drifted further and further away from specifically and solely Northern/Norse practices (not my primary gods, though — I am still Loki’s and Hela’s, through and through) and while this actually doesn’t change the nature of my personal devotional life all that much, it does have somewhat of an impact on my status as a priestess and my status with other Northern Traditionists. I wouldn’t call myself an eclectic Pagan so much as one who has largely stopped doing a lot of magic and sorcery as part and parcel of my religion, and whose focus seems to be less and less on either ancient Norse practices or modern NT Pagan ones.

I pray, write, sing, give offerings, do work for my gods and my communities and help friends and clients as part of my day-to-day life, while at the same time, my interior spiritual life is quite rich (at least, compared to when I began all this over six years ago). But I am neither a reconstructionist, nor have I consciously decided to ignore all that wonderful and rich Norse culture and history in favor of the usual modern Neo-Pagan beliefs and practices. And it all feels less like what most of us think of as “religion.” I just consider it part of my life. Does that mean I’ve succeeded at something? If so, I have no idea what.

I use “Pagan” because that’s the closest term that describes my religious views, and “nun” because, well…that’s what I am, although it took me some time to realize this. Perhaps I oughtn’t be so concerned with what to call what it is that I do and live and believe. I should just worry about whether or not I’m living my beliefs according to whatever internal consistency they have (the best way, I think, to reconcile oneself to the personal vagaries of one’s own UPG) and whether or not I’m doing what my gods would have me do. Obedience is something that most Pagans are not very fond of as a virtue to be cultivated, and while it isn’t necessarily a trait that everybody needs to cultivate, it is personally important to me where my gods are concerned — if only because if I don’t do what They ask of me, I feel out of sorts and as if I’m doing things the wrong way. And I don’t need other people’s (largely unsolicited) opinions and judgment or threats or smiting from Them to feel like this — which is largely because I’ve tried to cultivate self-awareness as well.

The point of all this is not to trumpet how great I think I am or to bore readers with personal woolgathering, but to say that I am not sure at this point what direction I’ll take with my blog, which is supposed to reflect my experience as a nun — just that I am going to strive to be as honest as possible and as open as I am comfortable being about the things I learn on the path to being a lifelong Pagan monastic. I do intend to make a formal vow of profession, as I stated before, but I do not know exactly when that will happen. I get the feeling there are things I need to do first, although I’m not entirely certain what they are. (This is, apparently, one of the dubious joys of being a monastic in a religious tradition, or body of traditions rather, where there is no modern precedent for your role. Yay.)

I am currently away from home working for some friends of mine on a project involving a good deal of physical labor and practical problem-solving — which is a far cry from my everyday life of household chores and thinking about theological issues. The change of pace has so far agreed with me, and although I hope to be back home at the end of this week, I hope also that having had a break from my “anchoritic cell” for a week or two will refresh me enough to buckle down to my daily routine once more, and to provide a clearer picture of the destination before me. But as they say, getting there is half the fun.

A Long-Delayed Book August 11, 2009

Be Thou My Hearth and Shield: Prayers in the Northern Tradition, which I compiled and edited, is finally available from Asphodel Press/Lulu. It’s a collection of prayers written by eighteen contributors (and myself) for different purposes and in honor of various deities of the Aesir, Jotnar and Vanir. It is intended as an offering to my gods, which to me is the most important reason to write a book of this nature. And I hope it encourages people to pray. Speaking to the gods is just as important as listening to Them, and the all-too-common attitude that prayer is something Pagans don’t do (because it’s associated with those other religions) saddens me.

I expect the book will be controversial in some regards and with some people, but fame (or infamy) wasn’t my goal when I put this book together, and those who would find fault with it are unlikely to buy it anyway.

Lammastide August 1, 2009

Today in central Massachusetts we had beautiful, if rather hot weather for the Lammas ritual and potluck held by Asphodel, the Pagan church I belong to. For those who aren’t familiar, in modern Neo-Paganism, Lammas (from an Anglo-Saxon word meaning “loaf mass”) is commonly associated with the grain harvest and thus, with the making of beer and bread. Often at this time, Pagans will pay homage to the gods of the harvest and of (agricultural) sacrifice. Or they may simply honor the Earth as the giver of plenty, as this day used to mark the first major harvest for those in northerly-to-temperate climes.

As part of today’s ritual, those of us in attendance each took three cut-out paper wheat stalks and on them named things we need to let go of or quit doing, but have ignored because they aren’t life-or-death (no pun intended) matters. These sorts of sacrifices are often overlooked in favor of the big, obvious and dramatic ones — how many people, when asked in a ritual context what kind of sacrifice they feel they ought to make, will answer something like “stop going to McDonald’s so much” or “telling jokes at inappropriate times”? After everyone had written theirs down, a person dressed as Death came around and randomly snipped off one of each person’s three, which ended up as the thing that person would be bound to give up this year (for the record, mine was “caring too much about other people’s drama.”) Then we took the snipped-off “wheat stalks” and burned them in a ritual fire.

This is the sort of thing that a monastic can really get into — being mindful enough to name the things you need to lose that aren’t necessarily life-changing issues, and being willing to sacrifice at least one of them. It might surprise some people that a monk or a nun would need to do this along with everyone else during a holiday ritual — after all, aren’t we supposed to be working on self-knowledge and combating our weaknesses all the time? Well, yes, but monastics are human too, and whether one lives in the peace of a cloister or interacts more with the outside world, there are always things that come up, from within and/or from one’s interactions with others, that need attending to. Just when you think you’ve worked through all your baggage, another suitcase comes down the ramp. Spiritual growth is an ongoing process, not a goal that, once met, one never has to consider again. And whether one is a monastic or an ordinary worshiper, being self-aware enough to see one’s flaws or weaknesses, and then willing to allow the powers that be to choose the one most necessary to improve, is a powerful act.

I hope everyone reading this has had a happy Lammas/Lughnasadh (or Candlemas/Imbolc if you live in the Southern Hemisphere.) Hail to Frey the Golden, and to all the gods and goddesses of grain, bread and beer. Hail to our ancestors who tilled the soil and to those who work it now so that we may continue to survive.

Movie Review: Brother Sun, Sister Moon July 23, 2009

Brother Sun, Sister Moon is a fanciful retelling of the early life of St. Francis of Assisi as conceived by Franco Zeffirelli. As with all of Zeffirelli’s work, it’s beautifully filmed, but this movie contains a number of “conceptual” shots that attempt to bring Francis’s divine revelations to the viewer in a way which may not work for everyone. Also, if you are the sort who likes to have everything explained at some point in a story, you’re probably going to be frustrated.

The movie opens with the young Francis returning from a bloody, traumatic war and being nursed back to health in his father’s house. During his recovery he has terrible visions and finally, a spiritual revelation which causes him to crawl out his window onto the adjacent roof chasing after a little bird, much to the amusement of the neighbors and the consternation of his family. After his recovery, Francis spends a lot of time wandering around agog at the wonders of nature and ignoring his responsibilities as the son of a rich merchant.

One day, in a bout of ascetic fervor, he hurls bolts of expensive fabric out the window of his father’s shop, exhorting onlookers to turn from the temptations of the material world (and is mostly ignored by the delighted townsfolk). He then appears before the local authorities, uttering a passionate speech about spiritual riches before doffing all of his rich clothing and abandoning the town and his family forever.

The film then follows Francis as he struggles, first alone and then with like-minded brethren, to live a life of poverty, chastity and prayer. Along the way he meets the future St. Clare, a girl from the town who is kind and brave enough to give bread to the local lepers. Eventually Clare becomes a nun and joins Francis in his efforts, living alongside the brethren and sharing in their difficult life as they strive to rebuild an abandoned church in the countryside for the people.

Perhaps one of the most striking scenes in the entire film occurs when Francis’s completed church is finally open for Mass and is filled with peasants who are clearly in awe of the poor brothers and their humble yet hard-won gift. Meanwhile, the town’s wealthy nobles and merchants gaze around disgruntledly at their own richly decorated and empty church. The spectacular and often grotesque wealth of various churchmen of the time is portrayed in the film via elaborate costumes, which one of my housemates asserted are historically accurate — massive heavy velvet and brocade robes, incredibly uncomfortable-looking standing collars, and giant, bejeweled velvet letters hanging on chains around the neck, like medieval rap stars.

Francis’s struggle to convince the Church that he is in earnest continues through the second half of the film, culminating in a visit to the Pope, where the marked contrast between the barefoot, threadbare monks and the obscenely overdressed cardinals and bishops is most apparent. Alec Guiness (before he was “Sir”) portrays Pope Innocent III with admirable gravity. Although the exchange between Francis and Innocent as portrayed is completely fanciful, it is a matter of historical record that the Pope did indeed meet with Francis and eventually gave his approval to the fledgling mendicant order. However, no mention is made of the dream Innocent III is attested to have had prior to Francis’s audience with him, which would have added considerably to the story, in my opinion.

Since much of the film is wordless it is sometimes hard to follow, and one must pay close attention to the dialogue to be able to understand what’s going on. Knowledge of the actual facts of Francis’s life will probably have some viewers snickering or scoffing. Because this film was made in 1973, it was evidently somewhat influenced by the hippie movement, and perhaps even targeted to same — it’s also got music composed and performed by Donovan, including the title song. The back of the DVD even says that Francis was “history’s first ‘drop-out.’” Far out, man!

If you’re looking for an accurate historical account of the early lives of St. Francis and St. Clare, this is not the movie for you. Nor is it a scathing indictment of the wealthy Catholic Church; religious dogma does not play a strong role in the narrative at all. Its real value lies in being a lush and artistic (but admittedly not very realistic) portrayal of a god-touched person driven by faith and love of nature to consciously turn away from all that he knows and follow his vision of a spiritually rich life. Because of that, it has potential appeal for monastics of many faiths.

Brother Sun, Sister Moon
Starring Graham Faulkner, Judi Bowker and Alec Guinness as Pope Innocent III
Written by Franco Zeffirelli and Lina Wertmüller
Directed by Franco Zeffirelli
Paramount Pictures, 1973

High Holidays and Why They’re Important July 15, 2009

I haven’t yet decided if or when I’m going to separately address each of the eight high holidays (or Sabbats, as some Pagans call them.) If so, that will probably start happening around Yule, since the Winter Solstice marks the new year for many modern Pagans. However, I’ve been thinking about the function of celebratory events in a specifically monastic context, and this is what I have come up with.

I feel that it’s very important for monks and nuns to enjoy the high holidays with as much enthusiasm and revelry as seems fitting and as one is capable of showing. Some may not see much point to this — after all, aren’t monastics already striving for a constant state of reverence for holy things? In a sense, there is really no difference between the contemplative devotionalism of the monastic path and the pomp and circumstance, joy and fun of a celebration which may be broadened to include one’s family, religious community or even one’s community at large. The former does require a keen awareness of the interior life, while the latter largely emphasizes the world around us — plants and animals, stars and moon and sun, sky and weather, seas and wind and stones, trees and people. Both of these, however, seek to unite the seeker or the worshiper with the gods and spirits and with all that is sacred — which, for Pagans, includes the natural world, the body and all that goes with it.

Because we may be heavily influenced by other religious traditions where embodiment is seen as an obstacle to enlightenment, Pagan monastics might sometimes have a harder time honoring that immanent sacredness, especially if one is on a more ascetic path. It can be tempting to feel that one’s moral integrity rests on never deviating from one’s work routine or spiritual restrictions, even for ritual or celebratory purposes. That’s a matter for one’s own conscience (or perhaps one’s own gods) to determine, but remember, moderation is our friend — and after all, we’re only talking about eight times a year. Joyful acts like feasting, drinking, dancing, making love or other earthy, sensual activities force us to acknowledge before all the gods as well as our fellow mortals that embodied existence is quite a good thing, really.

I’m not saying here that less prosaic acts of spiritual devotion are inferior or that an individual cannot learn on his/her own to appreciate or honor the physical.  However, there is something special about coming together with like-minded folk to celebrate each of the turning points of the year, during which the seasons shift and the natural world undergoes its many spectacular changes. The energy raised during a good ritual is as much of a celebration as any prayer, offering or sacred drama, and the gods and spirits feel and savor that energy as much as we do — which is part of the point. But even if all you can manage is to share a special meal with people who are close to you, if you’re paying attention, you will sense the difference.

So I think that participating in household or community celebrations of the high holidays provides a useful and necessary counterpoint to the vast amounts of time a monk or nun may spend in solitary devotion and contemplation, even if that solitude only exists in the privacy of the mind. I also feel it’s important for us to acknowledge that we do not live in a vacuum, and that we are all part of something greater than ourselves whether we’ve donned a habit or not. Before the might of the gods, and in celebration of the powerful tides and forces that rule our planet, we humans might seem frail and even superfluous. Around the sacred fire or in the ritual circle, however, the divisions between us and everything else drop away, and we may see into the heart of the Mystery…even though it is staring us in the face every day.

Another page July 6, 2009

I’ve made a Bibliography page listing some books I like. These will not be reviewed in the blog, although that isn’t to say that books I do review here won’t eventually make it onto the list as well.

Community Service July 5, 2009

It is late and I am tired, so this is somewhat rambly. Here’s hoping the point is made anyway.

This week I’m going to attend a small gathering where I have volunteered to do some of the cooking for the entire camp. Specifically, I am making breakfast for everyone and lunch and dinner for the vegetarian/vegan attendees. This is the first time I’ve been to this gathering and I am largely unfamiliar with the sponsoring group as well, so I’m a bit wary. I’m also not exactly a member of what you’d call the target demographic; the event is primarily aimed at transmasculine people, whereas I am somewhat female of center. Nevertheless, this was something I chose to do because I felt it’d be a good experience, and it was a good excuse to go camping in the mountains and spend my non-cooking hours doing nothing. (These days if I get to leave the house for an extended period it’s probably connected with my work in some way.)

It is hard to be a monastic and not have a community of like-minded individuals — many solitaries have teachers and even the early desert fathers and mothers of Chrisitian tradition had elders to advise them whether or not they lived in isolated huts in the desert. I personally do not know any other Pagan monks or nuns, although I know they exist. Sometimes I even wish I were Catholic or Buddhist, not because I want to give up my religion and my relationship with Himself, but because of the fellowship and support to be found in a community of fellow monastics all devoted to the same religious calling. If I want a sense of community I need to look elsewhere. Fortunately, as I mentioned, I don’t have to look very far.

Some of the same people I’ve seen at spiritwork events, Pagan events and kink events are going to be at this one. Others who were in attendance at one or the other of those wouldn’t be caught dead at this particular gathering, or are at best totally uninterested. I suppose from one standpoint, the fact that I don’t move in the same circles with the same people is a liability — perhaps even more of a liability for a nun than for a lay person. However, rather than feeling deprived because my community is so fragmented, with such varying interests, I feel that my life is enriched by having so many friends and colleagues whose interests may or may not overlap.

Admittedly I am not always consistent or gracious about it, but I can’t use the excuse that opportunities don’t exist right here at home and that in order to be of service to other people I need to travel all the way to West Virginia, as I’m doing later this week. There’s my household, which currently consists of me, three housemates and a plethora of animals, including a highly energetic dog who needs lots of attention and exercise. There’s my geographic community — the semi-rural neighborhood and the town where I live. There’s the aforementioned Neo-Pagan church, and also the exclusively Norse/Germanic kindred I helped found. There are the friends and colleagues I know who are shamans, diviners, magicians and other technicians of the occult from various traditions. There’s the kink community, of which I am but a peripheral member — but hey, I get a kick out of hearing stories from my friends. There are other god-spouses and other Lokeans, many of whom have been kind enough to say nice things about Trickster, My Beloved. I can’t say that I serve one or another of these groups than I serve the rest, or that the lines between them are neatly drawn, or that the service is all the same. Most of the time it’s something They have requested that I do, and how it might help other people isn’t clear to me until it’s long finished.

Would I be as involved in “worldly” things if I was part of an established Pagan monastic tradition? Probably not. But as one of my other jobs is to act as a priestess when called to do so (which happens more often than you’d think) retreating entirely from the rest of the world isn’t an option for me. I have to be available to a certain extent, and I have to be just as willing to be of service as I am when it’s all my idea, or when I can clearly see how beneficial my service is to others. I have a harder time seeing that as a priest, and often the things I do in that capacity take longer to come to fruition.

And, of course, my primary obligation of service is to Loki and Hela. In fact, many times when I do service to others I serve Them as well, often unwittingly. (Little did I know that Loki would later use my devotional to woo other consorts to His side, for instance.) Knowing that, however, often makes hard tasks easier and takes the sting off of the unhappy but inevitable lack of acknowledgement or thanks that happens from time to time. I know it isn’t all about me, but it’s natural to want to have one’s efforts recognized, and when they aren’t, I have to remember that ultimately I am working for Her Ladyship, or doing something to please Himself. And in that light, it hardly matters whether or not I am part of a community of fellow religious, because They often send me where I am most needed and useful…even if it’s not necessarily what I might have chosen to do myself.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that, since I’m not part of a monastic community and do have to do priestly duties from time to time, my focus has to be on service. At the same time, I have to be a part of various communities without prioritizing any of them over my religious calling. That can be really difficult to pull off all the time. But then, I expect that I wouldn’t have found myself in this situation if it wasn’t good for me in some way to learn to grapple with it, and it’s not my gods’ responsibility to make sure I can do my job correctly. It’s mine. And if that means taking a 14 hour drive to make pancakes for a bunch of strangers next a weekend, I suppose it’ll be what they call a “learning experience” no matter which way it falls out.

Turning June 23, 2009

I’ve been out of town recently and busy with various other things, hence the silence. However, I hope to write a review of the Norris book I mentioned earlier (just as soon as I finish reading it, that is). I’d also like to do a series of essays on the eight “high holidays” celebrated by most Pagans and what they might look like from a monastic perspective.

Today is the traditional old Midsummer Day but the actual Summer Solstice was two days ago. I’m going to enjoy the summer while it lasts, since it is short but sweet in New England — fresh vegetables and fruit, blue skies, thunderstorms, sunny beaches, forest greenery and (sigh) bugs.

Edit: No! Today is actually Midsummer’s Eve and tomorrow is Midsummer.

Book Review: Practical Wabi Sabi June 6, 2009

“Wabi sabi” is a concept derived from Zen Buddhism. It is both an aesthetic and a way of thinking which emphasizes an appreciation for the world as it is — imperfect, ever-changing and transient. Simon G. Brown’s Practical Wabi Sabi is not about Zen per se, nor is it necessarily concerned with self-help through getting rid of all your stuff. Rather, it is a brief guide to the principles of wabi sabi and how these may be applied to one’s daily life, in particular one’s home environment, regardless of your religious beliefs.

The book opens with a short description of the history of wabi sabi, followed by a section exploring many of its aesthetic and philosophical principles: simplicity, emptiness (as in space), transience, asymmetry, tranquility and naturalness, to name a few. Brown uses specific examples to illustrate how a wabi sabi house and garden which incorporate these principles might appear. While wabi sabi is not what you’d call luxurious, it does not advocate strict practices such as lying on beds of nails, or getting rid of all your cozy blankets — quite the opposite. A wabi sabi house may seem plain and spare, but the goal is greater authenticity and awareness of existing beauty, rather than deprivation or punishment.

Practical Wabi Sabi’s main section covers various rooms and home features one by one and suggests how to bring them into accordance with a wabi sabi mindset, with ideas for decorating, removing unnecessary items and storage. The style evoked is natural, simple, sparse and muted. There is a small section at the end of the book which briefly addresses related topics like meditation, diet and creativity. Many of the practical suggestions offered are similar to those extolled in the so-called “voluntary simplicity” movement. For example, Brown advises readers to paint rooms in muted hues, to use natural fabrics for bedding and clothing and clay or earthenware for dishes, and to have lots of empty space in your home. Good natural lighting or candles is said to be preferable to glaring track lights, and objects and surfaces with texture and “character” are favored over slick, new-looking things.

Using branches, seashells, dried flowers, plants, rocks, even rusty metal objects as objets d’art (arranged in asymmetrical and nonregimented ways) is highly encouraged because such things remind one of imperfection, transience and nature. The idea is, in part, to foster an appreciation of time’s passage, the seasons and the changes they bring, as reflected in the objects surrounding you. From a Pagan standpoint, it can be seen as bringing nature and the raw elements from outdoors directly into your home. Of course, this aesthetic will not suit everyone. Those who are fond of elaborate altars, fancy ritual tools and shelves lined with statues, crystals and bric-a-brac will probably recoil from this approach as being too self-denying and boring.

Overall, the book is mostly about redesigning your living space, but the idea is that doing so in accordance with wabi sabi will also alter your outlook and allow you to focus on what is truly important in your life — whatever that may be. However, what struck me most forcefully about Practical Wabi Sabi is that without the text ever once mentioning the word “mindfulness,” that concept underlies everything Brown discusses, even when he’s talking about painting a room. Zen is a philosophy which stresses mindfulness, however, so this should come as no surprise. It’s just unusual to find this in a Western lifestyle/decorating book.

The book is neither very long nor very dense (just about all of the topics covered are limited to two facing pages) so it is a fast read — perhaps too fast for some people, who might see it as a blithely superficial approach to a thoughtful subject. Here and there Brown makes some dubious statements, such as his assertion that “by introducing a more wabi sabi atmosphere into your home, you may find yourself in a better frame of mind to accept the loss of someone close to you,” which to me seems unduly optimistic. Even the most serene and orderly environment has its limits, after all. Also, his repeated mentioning of macrobiotic diets grew a tad annoying, and the bit about relationships in the third section seemed out of place and the most superficially addressed of all. However, these were all minor quibbles.

While I am personally not interested in Zen Buddhism, I did like this very much, despite its flaws. I recommend this book for fans of voluntary simplicity, novice monastics and others interested in an ascetic approach to one’s home that advocates a keen and honest appreciation of natural beauty and everyday objects, without the sacrifice of either beauty or comfort.

Practical Wabi Sabi
by Simon G. Brown
2007, Caroll & Brown Publishers, Ltd.
United Kingdom, £12.99