Where has the pleasure of slowness disappeared? Where have they gone?

~ Milan Kundera (Czech-French novelist)

Why do we have the urge to fill every moment of every day? How does this affect our mental health and overall sense of wellbeing? Psychologists explain that the urge to fill every moment stems from a mix of factors: fear of boredom and a socially conditioned need for constant productivity. Feeling busy is a coping mechanism to avoid uncomfortable thoughts, manage fear of missing out or to gain a sense of control. While these urges are entirely normal, the urge to constantly do something rather than nothing is not necessarily beneficial or healthy. Our obsession with efficiency can rob us of the joy of noticing small moments like the beauty of sunlight filtering through the leaves or the rhythm of life played out on quiet corners of the street. At worst, it can lead to burnout.

The constant urge to check our phones and doom scroll also has health consequences. While such hyperactivity give us small hits of dopamine and distract us momentarily from anxieties, it can lead to addiction, robbing us of quiet time for pause, read or reflect. Over time, we become superficial, become a “shallow” to borrow a term from Nicholas Carr best-selling book, The Shallows: What the Internet is Doing to Our Brains (2010).

Some folks can live with that. But for those who are tired of constant stimulation whether by choice or not, the Japanese concept of Ma is a useful guide to cultivate a quieter and more relaxed state of mind.

MA

Ma (間) is a Japanese concept meaning “space,” “gap,” or “pause,” derived from the kanji combining 門 (“door”) and 日 (“sun”) to visualize sunbeams shining through a door (how beautiful!). Originally representing a “space,” the word has evolved to signify meaningful void between moments. Yohaku is another word like Ma, though it is used mainly to describe the space between objects, as in art or interior decoration. Since the two words are so closely related, I will use Ma to refer to the general idea of spaciousness.

INSTANCES OF MA

Ma is present everywhere. It is the pause between notes in music. It is a quiet moment in cinema (often seen in Hayao Miyazaki’s films) where characters pause, or look at a stream, providing atmosphere rather than advancing the plot. It is the pause between words in a conversation. It is Ma-no-jikan: taking a time-out to create space for appreciating the present moment. I think you get the picture. Ma encourages us to slow down, breathe more easily and notice the world around us more deeply.

Have you ever gazed at a painting and are somehow mesmerized by its emptiness? Here’s one example.

‘Pine Trees’ by Hasegawa Tohaku is a 16th-century masterpiece and a premier example of the Japanese aesthetic of negative space, emptiness, and the “space between”. Rather than populate the canvas with a thick forest of trees, the artist uses ink wash painting (sumi-e) to suggest mist, space and depth, allowing the empty space to be a central part of the scenery. It is not a painting one can truly appreciate by a quick glance. To feel the atmosphere of the work, one has to view it slowly and contemplatively.

My next example of Ma is the Japanese tearoom. if you’ve ever stepped into a traditional Japanese tearoom, you would have already encountered Ma. The first thing you notice is how sparsely decorated it is. There is minimal furniture (often no furniture at all) and a few, deliberate items such as a scroll and flower to set the mood. The intentional emptiness highlights the beauty of the objects present, creating a quiet space that feels both intimate and expansive.

Ma has also found its way into Western decoration in the guise of minimalism. The idea is to avoid clutter and use soothing colors that harmonize with the furniture. In addition, when combined with rustic elements such as unpainted walls and roughly hewn furniture, Ma is aligned with wabi-sabi, the Japanese concept of finding beauty in simplicity and imperfections. 

MA IN DAILY LIFE

Beyond aesthetics, Ma also speaks to mindfulness. To be mindful is to notice. Not just notice anything or in passing (we already have too much of that) but slow, deliberate noticing of things leads to a more artful way of living. There are myriad ways to achieve this. Spending slow time with nature is one. Emerson exhorted us to “adopt the pace of nature, for her secret is patience.” The Japanese too, has a concept called shinrin-yoku or forest bathing. It is the practice of mindfully immersing oneself in a forest environment to improve physical and mental health. It is not exercise, like hiking or jogging, but rather a slow, sensory experience focused on “taking in” the forest atmosphere through all the five senses.

But who has time for that? Who has time to sit still for a hour to read a book? Who has time to listen to serious music, watch a artistic slow-burn movie, or visit a museum for a mind-expanding tour of art? Elizabeth Hardwick (1916-2007) writes of her age and ours that “time is just what our contemporary existence is determined to shorten.” Another writer I came across in a magazine echo Hardwick that “time is not our scarcest resource; its our perception of it that is.” Both authors make the obvious but important point that it is up to us to choose whether we want to value immersive time or live at the mercy of the clock. The Argentinian essayist and short story writer, Jorge Luis Borges (1899-1986) urges his readers to live spaciously, making room to appreciate every moment. “If our hearts were large enough to love life in all its details, we would see every instant as both giver and plunder. We must maintain vigilance against the plunderer.”