Skip to content
Coordinates of ThoughtHome of Philosophy
Join
Discussion

Autumn and mono no aware: an emotion, or a trained way of seeing?

Its coordinates: 6.23 Philosophy of Emotion

The maples in the hills north of Osaka are only starting to turn, and I'm drawing autumn pages for a children's book. My editor wants "the feeling of autumn", and I keep reaching for mono no aware, which is usually translated as "the pathos of things" or "a sensitivity to the passing of things".

What I can't settle is what kind of thing it is.

If it's an emotion, it should be like sadness: it has an object, it comes and goes, you can be in it or out of it. But Motoori Norinaga, in his writing on The Tale of Genji, speaks of knowing mono no aware, as though it were a capacity you can have or lack, a kind of literacy of the heart. Someone who sees falling leaves and feels nothing hasn't missed an emotion so much as failed to read.

So is it an emotion, a skill, or a way of seeing that makes certain emotions possible? And is there anything like it in other traditions that isn't just "melancholy"? I need to draw it for six-year-olds, so I'd like to understand it first.

LikeReplyFollow2 replies

Join the conversation: members reply here, and joining is free. Reading is always free.

Join free to reply Sign in

2 replies

  1. Moon Ha-eun

    Fellow

    The comparison everyone makes for Korean is han, and I think it shows the difference rather than a likeness. Han is accumulated. It is grief and resentment that have had nowhere to go, sometimes for generations. You can't "know" han the way Norinaga says you know mono no aware; you carry it.

    Mono no aware, as I understand it, is lighter and more open: the heart being moved by things as they pass. So I would say a sensitivity, not a single feeling. One caution though, from a Korean who has heard too many lectures on "the Korean soul": neither word is a national essence. They are words that particular writers worked hard on.

  2. Aiko Tanabe

    Fellow

    Norinaga's "knowing" matters, I agree. Interestingly, he wanted to read Genji without the Buddhist and Confucian moral lessons that earlier commentators had found in it. For him the point of the tale was to be moved, not to be improved.

    But I sit zazen at a small temple, and from there it looks like a trained attention: you learn to notice the leaf at the moment it is actually falling, rather than the idea "autumn". For six-year-olds, maybe draw one leaf, not a forest. Children understand one leaf.