Mono no aware

I have been thinking about the Japanese Concept of Mono no aware.  Our English language falls short of a real translation for this concept, but it could be loosely be understood as – An awareness of impermanence, and / or the bittersweet beauty of transience.   

My allotment has become a place of reflection in the sense that last week, I reflected that in my old borrowed allotment, I’m feeling a sense of belonging to something impermanent but deeply enriching.  I have been loaned / am the temporary custodian of 5 fruit trees, raspberry and Blueberry beds and a bed that I am trying to grow vegetables in, in the allotment.  Martin, in his early 80’s has loaned me the plot in his old allotment that his grandfather and father had before him – it has been in his family for over 100 years.  Can you imagine that in a city of such vast changes?

In the allotment, I recognised a feeling similar to the feeling I felt on my daily visits to the old onsen in Fujiyoshida – realising that things are beautiful because they are old, temporary, inherited, and quietly passing through time. Not melancholy exactly. More like being emotionally moved by the fragile continuity of life, passed through people.

I felt it in the old onsen near Mount Fuji because nothing there was optimized or modernized into a “wellness experience.” It was simply alive with history.


And now I’m feeling the same in my allotment in Sheffield because it has the same emotional structure and yet the places could not be further apart

* old hands cared for it before me
* Martin and Liz carried it through decades and generations
* fruit trees planted by people long gone are still feeding someone,
* I am temporarily part of a chain larger than myself,

I do not have a name for this feeling but it is clear within me and I don’t want to let this tiny space go now because it is a wonderland of overgrown time.  I think the name is Mono no aware.

Martin strimmed the long grass and placed plastic a chair under the tree for me.

I feel gratitude mixed with ache in the allotment, as I did in the Onsen in Fujiyoshida.

Some of the qualities of Mono no aware, could be: –

  • awareness of impermanence
  • emotional movement caused by transience
  • tenderness toward passing things
  • beauty heightened because something cannot last
  • continuity existing through change rather than despite it

The allotment matters more because:

  • other hands came before me
  • Martin will not be here forever, and nor shall I
  • I myself am only temporarily part of it
  • the fruit trees outlive individual custodians
  • the place carries visible time inside it

And the onsen comparison feels beautiful because of its non-pristine preservation and accumulation of human passage over decades and generations.

I have become deeply connected to these moments in places which carry the same depth.  And, during time spent in Japan I encountered a feeling later recognisable to me through the concept of mono no aware — an emotional awareness of impermanence and continuity — which I now recognise again in the inherited allotment culture of Sheffield. I also felt it in the house that I bought in Shetland.   Maybe I seek it, I don’t know but I do cherish it.

I am thinking of applying for a residency in Japan again, with these thoughts in mind.

  • knitting
  • allotment stewardship
  • inherited labour
  • ageing
  • temporary belonging
  • rural continuity
  • handwork
  • impermanence
  • greenery as living memory

Maybe this is “an application idea” and more like the beginning of a serious long-term artistic direction.  I hope so.

New Project – Easy quick chunky knit vest.

Pattern here

If you have any thoughts about Mono no aware, let me know in the comments.

What is my purpose? What is yours?

This morning, I posted on Instagram, a question to myself and anyone else who wanted to answer.

Here is the post

Dear Friends, For so much of my life, my purpose was clear: raising children, working hard – even from the time I was working in a chip shop at the age of twelve, paying every bill, standing on my own two feet. My days were filled with responsibility, with caring for others, with the thought of always moving forward.

Now, at sixty-two, I find myself asking a new question: can my purpose be me? I was talking to a friend yesterday about giving up work. He said but I need purpose. My work is not my purpose.
So, now I wonder
Can purpose be found in quiet moments, like the way the rising sun casts a shadow across my wall? And I sit and truly enjoy that moment,
Can it be in the joy of growing plants, in sewing, in designing knitting patterns, in feeding my many wild animal friends, and listening to tig’s happy purring, and in simply being here—present in the now?

I think the answer is yes.
Maybe purpose doesn’t always have to be about doing more, giving more, proving more. Maybe it can be about inhabiting the life we’ve built, noticing the beauty around us, and letting ourselves rest in who we are today. I am accepting my new purpose in this new phase of my life.
What do you think?

Additionally, thank you to everyone who sponsored me for the 30 day walking for a 3 mile walk every day for Cancer Research Uk. We did good for the research and I walked every day and continue to do so.

instagram is here, if you would like to follow me.

and, if you would like to support me in this new season of my life, then, please buy a knitting pattern, then you, Ravelry, paypal and I will all get a little something. xxxx

I am off to Japan again this year and beginning to allow myself to be excited. There is still so much to sort but I will write from the place I am staying. I may even do a Christmas online workshop.

Peaceful ness

For some time now, when I wake around sunrise, I look at my wall.

This is my wall this morning, as the sun was rising higher, around 6am. I have an old hand sewn cut work lace panel in the window. It doesn’t fit properly, it is pinned into place and it looks a little scruffy, but on the whole, the overall effect is that it casts a shadow across my wall every early morning. Without thinking, I turn to look at the wall, or my cat and I feel at peace. Something I realise, I did not feel many mornings when I lived in my beautiful croft house in Shetland.

the thing is, I no longer live in my dream house but I feel calm and peaceful and can live with autonomy in this city. I can also leap, when the time is right.

Here are some of my first sights in the mornings

And, if I look the other way, this is often my first sight. The one of Alfie was taken at 6am the morning before the day he died, and there he was just purring and looking at me.

Tiggy hears me wake and throws his upside down head at me wanting to be loved. And this is peace, and love.

I saw a Japanese word this morning :- UKIYU – it means, Floating World – describing the fleeting beauty of life and the art of living in the moment.

I find that just looking at the shadow of the cut work fabric, falling across my wall is such fleeting beauty that I have looked at it over many viewings totalling many hours. It is peace.

Thank you for your continued support. Happy summer, Tracey 🙂