Japanese toad lilies (hototogisu) bloom by the entrance of the greenhouse on my grandmother’s farm. My grandmother probably planted them, and now they keep blooming even though no one tends them. They stand tall, with many stems. Long stems are also easier to use in ikebana, so I always thought that was this flower’s charm.
But the other day, at a temple, I saw toad lilies growing low, gathered in a circle about one meter (three feet) across, looking lovely. “Maybe this is how their true charm shows,” I thought.
I had known this flower for years, yet I had never really seen its charm. Through this flower, I realized that knowing something and truly knowing it are two different things.
Some people know a lot. They have read many books, earned degrees, and can talk about almost anything. But do they truly understand the world?
In 1950, the Japanese thinker Mokichi Okada (1882–1955) wrote about a Japanese phrase he valued deeply: mono o shiru. Word for word, it means “to know things.” But Okada felt no phrase was deeper or richer in meaning, and he called it a Japanese phrase worth showing the world with pride. It is not easy to explain, he admitted, so he tried to put it as simply as he could.
What Does It Mean to “Know Things”?
Okada broke the phrase down like this. To know things means to experience all kinds of things in the world, to see through them, to grasp what they really are, and then to express that in some form.
For example, when you face a problem, it means finding the one key point: “If you do this, that will happen.”
People Who Cannot See
On the other side are people who cannot see. They start childish arguments and act without thinking. They do things that make others criticize them or look down on them, and they don’t even notice. In Japan, people say such a person is “still young” or “still wet behind the ears.”
Okada felt that the politicians of his day included far too many people like this. They made a big fuss over small matters and slowed everything down. Meanwhile, people who truly understood disliked pushing themselves forward. They avoided fighting with stubborn people and tended to stay quiet. So the loud ones became famous and won more elections.
Still, Okada noted, in the end it is usually the views of those who understand that win out. People who truly rise do not push themselves forward. Little by little, they earn others’ trust.
Art Shows It Most Clearly
Next, Okada turned from the world of the mind to the world of things. The easiest way to explain it, he said, is through art, because people who know things are often great figures with a fine eye for beauty.
First, he named Prince Shotoku, a leader of ancient Japan. The prince excelled in Buddhist culture, especially in the arts, and the treasures still kept at Horyu-ji temple and elsewhere shine to this day. His famous Seventeen-Article Constitution can also be called the foundation of law in Japan.
Next came Ashikaga Yoshimasa, a shogun of the 1400s. People criticize him in other ways, Okada wrote, but in the arts he left a great legacy. Beyond buildings like Ginkaku-ji, the Silver Pavilion, he collected fine Chinese art of the Song and Yuan dynasties, encouraged Japanese art, and had treasured pieces made. His collection still delights people today.
Hideyoshi and the Way of Tea
The person Okada praised most was Toyotomi Hideyoshi, the warlord who unified Japan in the late 1500s. Hideyoshi gave rise to the bright, splendid art of the Momoyama period. At the same time, he put great effort into the tea ceremony, an art of quiet simplicity known as wabi. Until then, tea had been a small presence. But Hideyoshi supported the brilliant tea master Sen no Rikyu, who brought the way of tea to completion.
In that age, one master after another appeared. Among them was Hon’ami Koetsu. He painted, wrote beautiful calligraphy, created new styles of lacquerwork, and made pottery, and no one could match his range of talents. About a hundred years after his death, Ogata Korin, who admired Koetsu, rose to become what Okada called the greatest master Japan ever produced.
What amazed Okada most was where Hideyoshi came from. He was the son of a farmer and spent most of his life on battlefields. Usually, Okada wrote, learning to know things takes many hardships and at least a comfortable upbringing. Yet even as a young man, Hideyoshi understood art and collected fine pieces. No one knows when or where he learned this. Okada called him a great man of a kind rarely seen.
Saigyo and Basho
In literature, Okada named the poet-monk Saigyo (1100s) and the haiku master Basho (1600s). Their works, he said, could only come from people who truly know things. Two pieces never left his mind.
From Saigyo: “Even I, who have set aside worldly feelings, / am moved by this deep sadness: / a snipe takes flight from the marsh / in the autumn dusk.”
From Basho: “How still it is— / the cicada’s voice / sinks into the rocks.”
Quiet Gifts to Culture
People who know things, Okada concluded, are the most cultured people of all. Their work has given later generations food for the soul, enriched their tastes, and lifted their hearts. Everyone knows that inventions, discoveries, and scholarship help human culture. But Okada believed we should take a fresh look at how much these people have quietly given to culture.
Who Was Mokichi Okada?
Mokichi Okada (1882–1955) is known today for a farming method that uses no fertilizer at all, and for a large body of writing on health, art, and how people ought to live. In 1952, he opened the Hakone Museum of Art.
Read the Original
The full text, written by Okada in Japanese in 1950, is available on meshiya.jp.
