日和：longing for the sea

Even if you love Japanese culture, wa 和 isn’t easy

In Japanese, wa (和) is often translated as “harmony.” It’s a word with a long history — appearing in early texts like the Nihon Shoki to describe the Yamato people and their way of life. Over the centuries, its meaning shifted from a simple label to a cultural value, one that underpins how relationships, groups, and even aesthetics are approached.

When I first began learning tea ceremony, I noticed that wa was placed first among the four guiding principles: wa, kei, sei, jaku — harmony, respect, purity, and tranquility. This order isn’t random. Sen no Rikyū, the tea master who articulated these ideals in the 16th century, understood that without wa, the rest could not follow.

But wa isn’t the kind of harmony where everyone simply agrees. It’s an active practice. It requires self-restraint, empathy, and what anthropologist Joy Hendry calls “smoothing over” rather than “solving” problems. In practice, this can mean offering a public stance (tatemae) that preserves group comfort while keeping your true feelings (honne) private. In Western contexts, this might be read as evasive. In a Japanese frame, it is considered care — protecting the whole rather than asserting the self.

I’ve seen this clash in real life. In a group I belong to, the Japanese leader is working to find a middle way so everyone feels included. The German leader, on the other hand, prefers clear, binary decisions — correct or incorrect, efficient or inefficient. Neither is wrong, but the rhythm of each approach is so different that friction feels inevitable. Wa isn’t just a matter of knowing Japanese customs; it’s a way of moving in step with others, of reading the air (kuuki wo yomu) without being told the beat.

From Wa to Kei

If wa is the foundation, kei (敬) — respect — is the structure built upon it. In tea, kei is shown in the smallest gestures: bowing to your guest, turning the tea bowl so its best side faces them, or quietly choosing a sweet they might enjoy. It’s not grand, ceremonial respect alone; it’s everyday attentiveness.

In life outside the tea room, kei might mean deferring to someone’s expertise, even if you have your own ideas. It might mean letting someone finish speaking, not because you agree, but because you value their presence in the conversation. Kei reinforces wa by making harmony feel genuine rather than superficial.

The quiet discipline of Sei

Sei (清) means purity or cleanliness, but in tea it is less about spotless surfaces and more about clarity — of environment and of mind. The tea room is swept, the utensils are clean, the host’s movements are precise. The purpose is not perfectionism, but to remove distractions so that host and guest can meet fully in the moment.

Translated to daily life, sei might be clearing your desk before starting work, or resolving a lingering misunderstanding before a meeting. It’s the idea that purity in the physical or relational space allows harmony (wa) and respect (kei) to function without obstruction.

Arriving at Jaku

The final principle, jaku (寂), is tranquility — not in the sense of silence alone, but of a settled heart. In the tea context, jaku is what emerges after the other three principles are in place. When harmony is felt, respect is exchanged, and the space is clear, tranquility comes naturally.

In life, jaku might be the sense of ease you feel after resolving a long-standing tension with a colleague. Or it might be the quiet comfort of knowing a group project is progressing smoothly because everyone is aligned. Jaku isn’t something you create directly — it’s the atmosphere that arises when wa, kei, and sei are lived.

Why Wa is still the hardest

Even if you love Japanese culture — wear kimono, practice tea, eat washoku — wa can remain elusive. You can learn the forms of bowing, the phrases for politeness, the right seasonal sweet to serve, but wa lives between the forms. It’s in the way you anticipate a guest’s needs without being told. It’s in easing tension before it turns into conflict. It’s in letting go of being “right” so that the group stays whole.

For someone who didn’t grow up in Japan, this can feel exhausting at times. It’s not impossible to learn, but it is slow. And perhaps that’s the quiet truth: wa is less about mastering cultural knowledge and more about living in a way where others’ comfort becomes second nature.

The tea room teaches that wa, kei, sei, jaku are not just ceremonial ideals — they are a way of being. And while you can appreciate their beauty from the outside, embodying them, especially wa, is a lifetime’s work.

Further reading & references

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