The Restaurant of Mistaken Orders
Sometimes imperfection brings us flowers
There is an upgrade hazard that comes with increasing abundance.
Should we worry about abundance?
Like Sandburg’s fog, the dark side of abundance creeps in on little cat feet.
Perceptions of abundance fluctuate widely, often based on the prices of various icons … a gallon of gas, a dozen eggs, a pair of shoes, a television, the family car.
All of this changes over time. In the US in the 1950s a single family home typically consisted of 3 bedrooms, 1 bathroom and 900 - 1200 square feet. By the 2020s, this average was more like 4 bedrooms, 2.5 bathrooms with 2300 - 2500 square feet. Gradually, we in the Western world have experienced abundance creep, which could also be labeled expectation creep.
As abundance and expectations creep forward, we have the wherewithall to fix the things that need to be fixed and upgrade what could be better. If the cycle continues to flourish, we spiral past functional on our way to better and then best.
Some of us proceed to a point where we can afford basically anything and “best” becomes mandatory. After that, “perfect” glows like a North Star and flaws become something to root out as unacceptable. Once perfection is reached, there’s always bigger, more bejeweled, more golden, until even more trumps more.
As our abundance grows, our compassion for imperfection lessens.
Slowly, as we repair and remove the broken and tumbled bits of our lives, compassion for the imperfect drains away, replaced by something darker, more troublesome … entitlement. “I want becomes “I need” which becomes “I’m entitled to” and “I’m damned mad if I don’t get it.”
What if we deliberately broke the cycle and turned toward imperfection as a form of beauty?
The Japanese have long celebrated imperfection through their devotion to wabi-sabi, defined as honoring the natural cycles of growth, decay, and weathering. Wabi-sabi respects authenticity, simplicity, and the natural cycles of nature. All of that is the foundation of beauty, of connection with the world around us and reverence for ourselves as part of it.
Enter The Restaurant of Mistaken Orders
It makes sense then that the Restaurant of Mistaken Orders is in Tokyo. This short video tells the story of deliberately hiring people with memory disorders to do a job that requires memory. It’s a lovely story, and I thought that’s all it was, until … well, we’ll talk about that after you watch this short video.
The Restaurant of Mistaken Orders … click for video
It was easy to be captivated by this story, however, it haunted me, demanding more thought. I’ve reached a stage of life where nothing about me reflects “perfection” in its fresh, firm, social media ideal. That’s a reality I’ve accepted … somewhat at least on a physical plane. No face lifts or tummy tucks in my future. No magic creams in my cabinet.
However, in my creative life, the prognosis is a bit darker. I still sometimes castigate myself for not being a wunderkind and my reveries occasionally fill up with shoulds … should’ve started my first newsletter at six … should’ve dashed off colorful bits of art in my crayon days … should’ve created dramatic plays for my recess clan.
If I had done all those shoulds and if I had gone to a better school, met the right people, started sooner, done an MFA rather than an MBA, maybe then my writing or my art would be better, more perfect. Then the world would beat a path to my door. However, since the world isn’t knocking on my door, neither my writing nor my art … and, therefore, not me … is perfect. Therefore, flawed … therefore, not worthy of being appreciated.
(Aside: most of the time I am simply overwhelmingly grateful for the completely unexpected gift of a life filled with art and writing and these thoughts only come occasionally … however, they seem to come to most of us … regardless of our level of success, more often than they are welcome.)
What would it take to see the world through Wabi-sabi eyes?
As the video replayed once again, I watched the joy and laughter of shared imperfection. I wondered what it would be like if we relaxed into the full acceptance of ourselves and whatever comes our way, doing our best, finding beauty in tiny moments and the flow of nature, allowing some things around us to stay old and battered, maybe even broken?
What if I looked at the world … at everything and everyone around me … even at myself and my work with wabi-sabi eyes? What if we all looked at each other with deep compassion, admiration even, for our imperfections, our truly unique imperfections earned through a life of rubbing up against reality?
Thoughts like these tend to show up as a year winds down and I begin the process of gathering thoughts, ideas, intentions and insights for the new year … here’s what’s in the 2024 basket so far:
Wild Enchantment … being open, curious, riding the currents of life.
Wabi-sabi eyes … compassion and appreciation for the imperfect beauty of all things, including my own writing, my own art, my own self.
What’s in your basket for 2024?
This is quite the consideration for me....on one hand there is the laughter at the restaurant and the softness of a world that can afford laughter. On the other hand, I am weeping and shaken so deeply about life, and about a world that can afford this restaurant and these considerations since I have struggled alone to raise my beautiful son who could not walk without falling down when he was 2, and 3 years old. And with out tender companionship, we managed through the years with Rolfing and retraining his legs and going to the Handicapped ski program and somehow affording 2 pairs of shoes for the times when his CP leg was a shoe size smaller than his functioning leg. And then, he became a skier and a ski instructor and now he skies beautifully down the snow covered slopes. And I am alone again, struggling with a no longer functioning right ear and lungs seared by the black mold in a house I rented. It takes so much effort, day to day even with the Oxygen canisters for when I want to go outside and walk around and look at the garden, so much effort....that there is not much laughter. Some gentle smiles. But not this kind of laughter and so part of me, is shocked at a world so indulgent that it can turn away from storing away enough energy to make it to sunset, and be like THAT. And I'm shocked. At that world. And then, at myself.
What a fantastic post! I want to go to the Restaurant of Mistaken Orders. I need to do a bit of research, I'm sure there's a great writing prompt in there.
I also LOVE the idea of abundance creep. Your idea that we lose tolerance for imperfection is very wise. Not only does it dull our compassion, it makes us unhappy ourselves.