Whatever happened to MA

Ma means silence – not an empty silence, but an existing thing which can be contemplated for itself. Ma is preasent in all aspects of the Japanese culture. Music, for example, traditional Japanese music where the musician plays “ploink–silence–ploink–silence–ploink, ploink–siiiilence–ploink, ” the silence is not there to allow you to savor and contemplate each jarring note for itself (as many Westerners new to the whole idea assume), the silence is for contemplation in itself (which leaves many of us sitting there contemplating the wrong thing). Art is full of ma; those paintings with a few brushstrokes depicting a mountain or a tree – it is not what you see in the brushstrokes that is the genius, but what you see in the ma. In haiku, where you have a very few words to convey a complete thought, it is what is not said that really drives home the point. Ma is essential in conversation, too; the Japanese cannot communicate without it. Ma is what makes conversations with Japanese so uncomfortable for Westerners. You need to learn to speak volumes with silence. At the end of a statement by a Japanese co-worker, if you speak right away, you haven’t thought through your answer or could be hiding something. A short silence indicates thoughtful contemplateion of the speaker’s point. A longer slience indicates a hesitation or disagreement (you NEVER outright disagree with a Japanese person, it’s rude – they need to figure it out from your ma). A really long silence means you weren’t paying attention. They know how to do it instinctually. I haven’t quite gotten the hang of it yet, but I use this as a giude (I came up with it myself, so it is not scientific) – 3 seconds for contemplation, 5 for disagreement; it seems to work, and I don’t sound quite as rude as before. However, in the real world, there is no ma here! It is never quiet. At sunrise, we are greeted by the racous caws of killer jungle crows and the “rwoooo-rwo-rwo-rwo” of frisky male doves on the prowl for hapless females (I originally thought these were bullforgs, until I happened to catch a couple of them in the act; I quickly averted my eyes). All day the cicada, “wreeee-wre-wre-wre,” and at night the crickets chirp. A few nights ago I was walking home from the train station, and the crickets were so loud and high pitched, my ears hurt. There is also the nonstop, 24 hours a day traffic noises, bells from the shrine, trains, sirens and various loudspeaker announcements. Literally, there is no ma in which to contemplate the ma!

“He knew the precise psychological moment when to say nothing.” — Oscar Wilde