6 Japanese concepts you need to know, according to Marie Kondo

People really like Japanese philosophy. If you ever see a list of “untranslatable words” or “beautiful words from around the world,” then you will notice how Japanese ideas are often overrepresented. Whenever I explore a Japanese concept on the Mini Philosophy social media pages — wabi–sabi, mono no aware, ikigai — they outperform almost everything else.

Part of this, no doubt, is a kind of exoticism. For much of its history, Japan remained ethnically and culturally distinct from both its Asian neighbors and the wider world. Buddhism drifted over from China and Korea, but it fused with Shinto and indigenous animism to become something uniquely Japanese. Western industrialism arrived in the 19th century under the Meiji Restoration, but even then, Japan found a way to absorb foreign ideas without surrendering its identity — to modernize without Westernizing. Anyone who’s read James Clavell’s Shōgun will know how profoundly singular Japanese culture has always been — and still is.

In this week’s Mini Philosophy interview, I spoke with the bestselling author and internet icon Marie Kondo about her new book, Letter from Japan. The book explores six quintessentially Japanese ideas — Cherish, Perfect, Consider, Savor, Purify, and Harmonize — that can change not only how we see the world, but how we live within it.

Our conversation, and Kondo’s book, show that Japanese philosophy’s popularity isn’t just about aesthetic allure or cultural exoticism. It’s about the deep practicality of these ideas and how they can bring stillness, gratitude, and meaning into a rushing, anxious world.

Cherish 愛でる(Mederu)

“If you look at the cherish topic,” Kondo tells me, “in Japan there’s this idea called Yaoyorozu no Kami, where there are gods that dwell in almost all objects and all items in your surroundings. They almost have a soul, if you will.”

The idea of yaoyorozu no kami is an old Shinto concept meaning “eight million gods.” It’s a poetic way of saying that the divine is everywhere. It’s in the river near your house, the woods you run through, and the mountain you see on postcards. But, in Kondo’s hands, yaoyorozu no kami is a way to reconsider the things in our lives. The pillows on your bed, the pictures in the hall, and the wooden spoon you always choose first have “spirits.”

Kondo explains that this belief is what underpins an important ritual of thanking objects before discarding them:

“Whenever you discard something, my method encourages people to thank the item for educating them, for being part of their lives before discarding it.”

In a world of scientific materialism, we are keen to reduce inanimate things. We strip the world of magic and personality. Kondo’s cherishing allows us to see the things around us as important — not only for the gift of their use but also in themselves.

Perfect 極める (Kiwameru)

The word “perfect,” in Kondo’s sense, doesn’t mean flawless, but more like ordered or aligned. And it’s this need to sort our environment and to put things into some kind of order that matters — which bonds us to the world.

“Tidying up is really this idea that transcends borders and language… everyone has to go through it — purchasing, using, discarding, tidying up. It’s a very natural extension… I don’t want to tell people, ‘Just go minimal and that will change your life.’ The important thing is to choose the items you decide to live with. You should have the exact right amount of items that you need in your life.”

To “perfect” in the Japanese sense is to tune life. It’s a conscious moment of choosing the space you want to live in — a space that makes you happy.

Consider 気遣う(Kidukau)

“By everything you own, and through the process of knowing what’s important, you come to know yourself.”

Kondo says that we ought to be more aware of the things around us — not just in looking at them, but appraising our relationship to them. For example, the act of considering — of handling every object and asking whether it sparks joy — is both an act of mindfulness and important self-discovery. As Kondo put it, “You have to touch every single item. When you touch it, you’ll feel your body react… your cells feel like they’re lifted, or they feel weighted down.”

To “consider” means consulting the advisor of the body. It’s the bridge between mindfulness and material life.

Savor 味わう(Ajiwau)

In Letter from Japan, Kondo writes about “savoring what’s in front of you and savoring the objects, the items you touch.”

When we savor something, we have to gift it two things: attention and time. Savoring involves lingering and allows us to experience things fully. A good way to explain savoring is by disanalogy — because a lot of us are caught in a world without much savoring. In our interview, Kondo argued that the temptation of the modern, digital, always-online world demands fleeting, disengaged attention. “Digital exchange is useful, and I’m very grateful for it,” she said. “But if that becomes the main thing, we lose the physical sensation and the connection with our surroundings.”

Purify 清める (Kiyomeru）

Tidying, for Kondo, is a kind of purification. Purification rituals are common in religion — baptism, fasting, retreat. Kondo’s version is not necessarily religious, but does certainly come with some of the gravity associated with religion. In fact, Kondo even argues that the need to clear the space around us and to tidy things away is just as widespread and common as the religious tendency.

“The act of cleaning up is universal. Everyone uses items, everyone lets go of them. The action itself is what’s important.”

The reason for this is that there is a kind of feedback loop between our purified, cleansed, tidy world and our minds. There’s a reason people often feel stressed in a messy environment, and hotels and spas are designed the way they are. This is as human as any psychology, and purification “helps your mind be more at ease, more peaceful, more satisfied with your surroundings.”

Harmonize 調和させる (Chowa saseru）

Finally, Kondo argues that harmony is the ultimate goal — between people, objects, and environment. “When everyone goes through this process,” she argues, “the world will be a much more beautiful place, because individuals will be able to know how they want to interact with their surroundings and items… For some people, it might be minimalism. For others, a room filled with decorations. What matters is that it sparks joy for you.”

Of course, Kondo’s work, and our interview, focused on the topic of tidying and sorting our surroundings. It is, after all, how Kondo came to be so universally famous. But the Japanese concepts she explores in her book are not bound to the domestic. They are ways of seeing the world. We can all savor our days more, and look to declutter, rationalize, and purify our lives. We can spend time cherishing what people offer us and the time we have to spend with our loved ones. We can hope to find balance and harmony with one another when the world demands we retreat to battle lines and pick sides.

Japanese philosophy is not only popular because it is so different from what a lot of people reading this will know, but it’s popular because there’s a sense that we need this difference. For whatever reason, it’s common to feel like things are broken. It’s common to feel anxious and out of whack. What Kondo offers is a millennia-spanning philosophy for another way. Is it a better way? Perhaps we need to read the book and try it out to see.