What beautiful soothing sounds can teach us
The soft, swishing sound of a monk’s robes rubbing together as they walk briskly down the temple corridor. It echoes through the silence, blending with the rhythmic creaking of the floorboards. During memorial services and other ceremonies, a great many monks would gather at my family’s temple.
As a young girl, I would prick up my ears at the sound of those rustling robes and footsteps coming through the paper screens, finding each person’s unique character within them. Eventually, I could even tell who had arrived just by listening. As for how I knew I was right? I simply waited to hear their voices as they chanted the sutras.
Furthermore, simply by listening, I learned to sense the physical and emotional state of the person making those sounds on any given day. The pace of their footsteps, the brush of a hem or sleeve, the rhythm of their breathing whilst reading the sutras. I was the sort of child who discovered individuality and states of mind within these sounds. I relied more on listening closely to sense people than on what I could see, and I would base my conversations with them on those auditory cues.
Looking back now, I suppose I had been living my life unconsciously using all five senses since my earliest years.
Time has passed since then, and I now live in Tokyo—something I could never have imagined as a child. Yet, my habit of interpreting the world through sound remains entirely unchanged.
I often learn about my own state of mind from the sounds of everyday life. The more casual and unassuming the action, the more clearly it reveals how I am feeling.
The sound of drawing the curtains after waking up in the morning.
The sound of pouring hot water whilst casually making a cup of coffee.
The sound of words and breathing during a conversation.
The sounds that resonate in my ears on any given day are a direct reflection of my inner self. I place great importance on remaining sensitive to subtle changes in these sounds, and on spending my mornings enveloped in a pleasant auditory soundscape. It is rather like spinning a beautiful melody from the notes produced by idly resting one’s fingers on a piano keyboard.
This heightened awareness truly comes into its own when putting on a kimono. When I dress without looking in the mirror, relying entirely on my senses, the most dependable guide of all is ‘sound’.
The smooth, slipping sound the moment I drape the kimono over my shoulders.
The soft, rustling sound of silk as the undergarment and the kimono gently brush against each other.
The satisfying, tight squeak of the silk cord being fastened.
The sounds change depending on the fabric and how the kimono and cords are handled, and the rhythm of my breathing dictates the sounds of the day. A pleasant, beautiful sound serves as the ultimate barometer of whether I am wearing the garment well.
When setting the hem, I listen for the exact moment it brushes against the instep of my foot. The shape of the hem alters depending on the sound. I savour that specific tone and rhythm in the moment.
When arranging the neckline, I listen for the sound of the fabric settling as if clinging gently to my chest. The sound tells me whether the material is sitting perfectly against my body. The fabric itself makes a sound as if to say it feels comfortable, too.
When tying the sash, I listen to the sound of silk rubbing against silk. The sash is certainly not meant to be tied excessively tight. The sound—the sash itself—tells me when the tension is just right.
It is not trendy pop music, nor jazz, nor classical.
Yet, it is within these very sounds that I feel a sense of my true self. Whilst occasionally being swayed by them, I hope to continue listening to the sounds that bring me comfort and joy for a long time to come.
This article is translated from https://intojapanwaraku.com/fashion-kimono/300252/
