WAY OF THE SAMURAI
Discover why philosophy, tea and poetry were important to Japan’s famed warriors
When we think of the samurai we often think of bushido – the ‘Way of the Warrior’. But this moral code that governed the actions of the samurai was never actually a single philosophy, as different clans followed different rules. A closer look at Japanese culture, however, shows us how the samurai grew from simple soldiers to become the warrior poets and philosophers we know them as today.
Higashiyama culture
Much of what we consider as distinctively ‘samurai’ is derived from Higashiyama culture that developed in the Ashikaga shogunate in the 15th century. Under Shogun Ashikaga Yoshimasa there was a harmonisation between the cultures enjoyed at court and those of the warrior samurai. It was no longer sufficient to be a bold fighter: samurai were now expected to cultivate the arts and act in accordance with philosophical principles.
Yoshimasa planned his own retirement in the Temple of the Silver Pavilion in the Higashiyama hills outside of Kyoto, from which this pinnacle of Japanese culture derives its name. The construction of this building and the life of contemplation and artistry Yoshimasa enjoyed there shaped Japanese aesthetics for generations.
“IT WAS NO LONGER SUFFICIENT TO BE A BOLD FIGHTER: SAMURAI WERE NOW EXPECTED TO CULTIVATE THE ARTS AND ACT IN ACCORDANCE WITH PHILOSOPHICAL PRINCIPLES”
Yoshimasa patronised Noh theatre, employed talented ink painters, celebrated ikebana flower arranging and raised the Japanese tea ceremony to an art. The small room constructed at the Silver Pavilion for drinking tea is the oldest tea room in Japan and a model for all that came later. The Silver Pavilion can be seen as a response to the ornate and glittering Gold Pavilion built to celebrate the warrior culture of earlier generations. Yoshimasa was creating a new, simpler ideal for the samurai.
The works of art Yoshimasa gathered around him formed the basis of the Higashiyama Treasure – priceless paintings and artefacts that are considered national treasures today. Several of his advisers in the collecting of art works were born samurai but devoted their lives to beauty. However, the artworks gathered in the Silver Pavilion were not mere decoration: the Silver Pavilion embodies the philosophy and aesthetics that moulded later samurai thought.
Wabi-sabi
The Silver Pavilion as planned by Yoshimasa was intended to be covered in glittering silver, yet as we see it today it has no gilding. The pavilion is unfinished, weathered and, to Japanese sensibilities, perfect in its imperfection. It is an example of the Japanese ideal of wabi-sabi.
Wabi had originally referred to the miserable state of living in nature, far away from other people, but it shifted in the 15th century towards a wistful melancholy. Sabi was a term meaning thin or withered. Together these two words might conjure up a bleak outlook but when placed together they turned into a notion that the wear and damage objects receive as they are used can be beautiful.
Wabi-sabi is a sense of aesthetics based on the acceptance of transience and imperfection in the world. A flawless object may attract our attention for a moment, but a ceramic bowl with a drip in its glaze gives us pause to consider how it was made and the art of the maker. Age and individuality in an object is respected. The tides of time should leave their mark on an object just as waves on the beach mark time on the sand.
Wabi-sabi was an important principle for samurai because they lived hard lives. They were likely to bear scars from their battles and wield old weapons that had been repaired many times. An acceptance of the fleeting nature of perfection, and life itself, spurred warriors into battle. Wabi-sabi was described in the Letter of the Heart that set out the principles of the tea ceremony. It noted that “however cultivated one’s manner, a painful self-awareness of one’s shortcomings is crucial. Remember that self-assertion and attachment are obstructions”. Even a cup of tea could remind a samurai of how to face a battle without fear.
Wabi-sabi also taught samurai that some things are out of their control. It is perhaps best expressed in the story of Sen no Rikyu when he asked a servant to prepare his tea house. The servant scrubbed it top to bottom and scoured the garden in preparation. When Sen no Rikyu arrived, he shook a maple tree to randomly scatter some leaves. Wabi-sabi was thus achieved in joining human efforts with the transience of nature. In battle you cannot expect the fight to be as neat as your plans.
The same cup of tea that might give a samurai pause to consider the nature of life could also give them hope. Their sense of aesthetics meant that repairs to a damaged vessel should be seen and not hidden. It can even become art as in kintsugi, where pottery is repaired with gold so that the cracks show. Even a battle scar could be beautiful.
“AN ACCEPTANCE OF THE FLEETING NATURE OF PERFECTION, AND LIFE ITSELF, SPURRED WARRIORS INTO BATTLE”
Wabi-sabi developed during the Warring States period. When there was so much conflict it was a comfort to find peace in the passing of all things and a joy to treasure venerable objects that may have been damaged.
Mono no aware
Mono no aware is another term that has no easy translation into English. It can broadly be defined as the wistful realisation that all things are impermanent and it developed from the Buddhist idea of non-attachment.
When your feelings for the passing of a thing match the appearance of decay, you are feeling mono no aware. It’s why looking at blossom is so important in Japan; the flowers realise a brilliance for just a few days, but soon wither and pass away. You can curse the flowers as they die or you can enjoy their brief beauty. And maybe they are more beautiful because they do not last. For the samurai who faced death every time they drew a sword, non-attachment helped them to cope with their fears. There is a saying in Japan that “among blossoms the cherry blossom [is best], among men, the warrior”. Both may glitter for a time, but the warrior can be cut down just as easily as a blossom blows away.
Shinto and Zen
The adoption of Zen Buddhism led to great changes in 12th-century Japan. This must have left some aristocrats with a deep sense of mono no aware when they saw their way of life passing. The samurai were beginning to grow in importance in society. Shimazu Yoshihiro, the 16th century leader of the
Shimazu samurai, wrote a poem reflecting the Zen belief in the transience of life that the samurai were adopting:
“IN THE SPRING – FLOWERS AND IN THE FALL – FOLIAGE, EVERYTHING IS FLEETING. THIS IS THE HUMAN RACE – GATEKEEPERS OF THE VOID”
Many samurai were followers of Zen and other forms of Buddhism. The 17th-century sword master Takuan Soho wrote a treatise called The Unfettered Mind that was influential in how later samurai would view the world through a Buddhist lens. Addressed specifically to the samurai class, it marries the pacific world of the Buddha with the art of war.
Battle, properly entered with a clear mind, now becomes a form of meditation: “Although you see the sword that moves to strike you, if your mind is not detained by it and you meet the rhythm of the advancing sword… the sword that was going to cut you down will become your own, and, contrarily, will be the sword that cuts down your opponent.”
The samurai often used the term ‘mushin’ – ‘no mind’. It comes from a Zen phrase meaning ‘the mind without mind’. It is a state where instinct and training take over and the mind is free from worry, doubt and ego. It was employed by martial artists and was useful on the battlefield where there is no time for thought. A fighting samurai sought to exist within the moment.
The rigorous mental and physical training that Zen monks underwent was thought to be helpful to young warriors. If you were able to bear
“IT WAS SHINTO THAT ROUNDED OUT THE ETHICAL PHILOSOPHY OF THE SAMURAI”