A Beautiful Sadness

 Fr. Michael Fish

On my daily walk I pass a neighbor who has a magnificent vegetable garden. He often invites me to share its abundance and I leave with my backpack laden with tomatoes, beans, peppers, figs, butternut and basil. Last week, as we stood together in his garden, which has peaked and already has Fall about it, he said, “Mono no aware” – a Japanese expression meaning a transient, gentle sadness, a beautiful sadness, a bittersweet awareness of impermanence.

“A gentle sadness,” I thought, as I walked home. I now have a name for what I’ve been experiencing. This year has crested. Fall is in the air, so too my sabbatical, my life, turning 70. I am aware of the bittersweetness of impermanence. It’s more pronounced, I believe, because of the pandemic. There is a sadness recalling pre-Covid life, dashed dreams, hopes and plans, celebrations.

The Japanese, influenced by Buddhism, take the sentiment one step further. There is, they say, impermanence in everything (the Cherry Blossoms). However this calls us “to vital activity in the present moment and deep gratitude for another moment granted to us.”

Walking home on a carpet of golden sycamore leaves, my backpack heavy with abundance, I was flooded, for a moment, with the awareness of now, of thankfulness and joy.

Perhaps we need to refrain from looking too far ahead for the vaccine, for the end of masks and social distancing and instead gently embrace “Mono no aware.”

From Father Michael's newsletter (hermitfish.com)