[image description: A being stands in front of a shimmering golden pool in an asymmetrical black, red, and gold robe. Her left arm sports a tracery of delicate tattoos, and her torso seem scriss-crossed with fine lines. Are they cracks? her fingernails are gold and black, as is the asymmetrical mask she wears. Her eyes are pools of gold. Text reads, “250, 黄金の目, small god of WABI-SABI”]
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Nothing lasts forever.
Not you. Not me. Not the divine. Not this sentence. All things are born only to die one day; all things begin so that they can come to an end.
Wabi Sabi celebrates the period between that end and that beginning. Not the perfect finished product; the missed starts, the imperfect prototypes. The lumpy apples and the irregular cobblestones. And Wabi celebrates the changes brought on by time and entropy, the patina on metal, the way stone can discolor, the shift in fabric from stiff to soft or from soft to stiff. Wabi understands, more than anyone else in the heavens or on Earth, that we are all of us only here to go.
But at the same time, Wabi is not a god of entropy. Wabi celebrates beauty and serenity, the appreciation of the unappreciated, and the love of the unloved. Wabi is a god of beauty and of love, of learning to breathe more deeply when time is running out, to look around and savor the moments that never stay, the beauties that never endure exactly as they are, but change and transform, becoming something unique, becoming something more.
Wabi loves you, whether or not that love is welcome. Wabi always has.
Wabi always will.