I have always been fascinated by Japanese culture and traditions, particularly the way their philosophy of life is reflected in their craftsmanship.
Whether it is architecture, furniture, pottery, design, or even the preparation of a simple meal or tea, there seems to be a deep respect for the process. A dedication to doing things well. A quiet pursuit of excellence without the need for recognition.
It is a quality I have always admired.
This fascination eventually led me to a book called The Art of Japanese Living. One thing I appreciate about the book is its simplicity. I have always preferred books that capture the essence of a topic in a concise and thoughtful way rather than stretching a simple idea across hundreds of pages. The book explores fourteen Japanese values and principles, dedicating only a few pages to each, yet somehow managing to communicate their essence remarkably well.
As I read through it, I found myself taking notes constantly. More importantly, I found myself reflecting. Rather than simply learning about these values, I wanted to understand how they were already present in my own life.
That reflection inspired this series of posts.
In each post, I will explore one or more of the Japanese values that resonates most strongly with me and how it appears in my everyday life.
I am beginning with the one I needed most in this phase of my life:
Ikigai is often translated as “a reason for living.” It is your why. The reason you wake up in the morning with a sense of purpose.
Many people associate Ikigai with careers, passions, or professions, but I found myself drawn to a deeper interpretation. To me, Ikigai is not something confined to a job title or a specific activity. It is the recurring pattern that quietly reveals itself across different areas of your life. It makes you in control of your life.
After reading the chapter on Ikigai, I became curious to explore the idea further.
Like many people, I came across the familiar diagram of four overlapping circles. It is useful as a visual introduction, but I felt it only scratched the surface. It explains the concept, but it does not necessarily help you discover your own Ikigai.
So I decided to take a different approach.
I started gathering reflective questions and answering them honestly, looking not for conclusions but for patterns.
What moments do you most enjoy in everyday life?
What do you do without anyone asking you to do?
What were your favorite things to do as a child?
What makes you feel emotions strongly?
What are you looking forward to?
If money was no object, what would you still want to do?
When do you lose track of time?
What activities leave you energized rather than drained?
What interests have stayed with you for five years or more?
What subjects do you keep returning to, even after taking breaks?
Looking back over your life, what themes keep repeating?
What books, places, people, or ideas consistently attract you?
If someone studied your life from a distance, what pattern would they notice?
What do people consistently come to you for help with?
What feels easy to you but difficult to others?
What kind of problems do you enjoy solving?
When have you produced work that exceeded expectations?
What are you most proud of creating?
What problems in the world bother you more than they seem to bother others?
What type of work feels meaningless to you?
What opportunities do you regret not pursuing?
What do you wish existed but cannot find?
What makes you think, “There must be a better way”?
What knowledge, skill, or perspective would you like to be known for?
What would you like people to learn from your work?
Twenty years from now, what would make you feel your life was well spent?
What kind of contribution feels uniquely yours to make?
What would you continue building even if recognition never came?
As I worked through the questions, something interesting began to happen.
Different questions led to different answers, yet the answers kept pointing toward the same place. A pattern was emerging. And that pattern was summarized in one word, MASTERY.
When I looked at what motivates me, what keeps me engaged for years rather than weeks, what gives me energy instead of draining it, the answer was consistently the same. Mastery.
The art forms that attract me are rooted in mastery. My interest in photography is rooted in mastery. My growing passion for woodworking and furniture design; something I hope to pursue in the next chapter of my life; is rooted in mastery.
Even in my conversations with family and friends, I often find myself discussing learning, improvement, refinement, and the pursuit of becoming better at something meaningful.
The more I reflected, the more obvious it became. Mastery was not merely one of my interests. It was the thread connecting many of them.
Many people confuse mastery with perfection. Perfection is focused on the outcome. Mastery is focused on the process.
Perfection seeks a flawless result. Mastery seeks continuous improvement.
You may never reach perfection, but mastery ensures that you keep growing.
And perhaps that is why mastery naturally leads to another Japanese values that deeply resonates with me: Wabi-Sabi and Kintsugi. I will explore that idea in the next post.
For now, I leave you with a question:
When you look across the different chapters of your life, what is the pattern that keeps appearing?
And could that pattern be pointing you toward your own Ikigai?
Previously posted..
Reflections ...
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Jun 30
Not all questions seek answers. Some exist to inspire reflection on what gives meaning to our lives, our relationships, and ourselves.
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