Dear friends,

Allow me to borrow Murakami’s book title “What I talk about when I talk about running”. Because when it comes to 面目-Menboku, we have a lot to talk about.

So, let’s talk about it.

“Menboku” can be translated to “face” or “countenance”, but it’s far more than just reputation or appearance. “Menboku” means a weave of dignity, honor, self-respect, and how one is perceived within the complex tapestry of Japanese society. This concept is about maintaining one’s standing, avoiding embarrassment for oneself or others, remaining the collective harmony. For someone who wants to study Japanese culture like me, understanding “Menboku” is like learning an invisible language, crucial to truly connecting with the culture.

We can find this concept almost everywhere in Japan. It’s in the delicate kimono set, the precise placement of a tea bowl, the deep, respectful bow exchanged between colleagues – these are so many familiar scenes in Japan that speak of politeness and tradition.

My journey into understanding “Menboku” has started during my trip to Kyoto 3 years ago. I recall an afternoon spent in a quiet tea ceremony house nestled in Gion with my sister. I was so lucky to experience it. Every movement of the tea master was a ballet of precision – the whisking of the matcha, the careful turning of the bowl, the placement of the wagashi. In this small Ochaya, “Menboku” was palpable not in fear of failure, but in the unwavering commitment to excellence and respect for the guest. A single clumsy motion, a moment of distraction could feel like a subtle erosion of the sacred “face” of the ceremony itself.

“Menboku” is also manifested in the bustling heart of modern Japan. I remembered how I enjoyed my shopping in Ginza while I was still traveling as a tourist. I’ve often marvelled and amazed at the impeccable customer service. A sales associate will meticulously wrap a gift as if it were a priceless artifact, their hands moving with practiced grace. This is not just good service. It’s about upholding the “Menboku” of the store, the quality of the product, and by extension, respecting the “Menboku” of the customer who receives such a perfectly presented item. To offer anything less would diminish all involved.

I’ve also witnessed its subtle influence in more casual settings, like at the live Jazz night in Daikanyama or any random bar in Shimokitazawa. I am always be amazed how the bartenders can take care of every single customer with that kindness and they have the smile that’s always there. It’s a silent ballet of social grace, everyone playing their part to maintain the collective harmony and ensure no one felt publicly shamed. This careful dance, I learned, is a cornerstone of Japanese social interaction. Even in solemn places, like many shrines in Tokyo, the concept of “Menboku” is quietly present. Worshippers approach the kami with a dignified reverence, their actions precise during prayers, their demeanor respectful. It’s a personal act of upholding one’s own purity and sincerity before the divine, a spiritual “Menboku” that is carefully maintained through ritual and intention.

At first, I thought the idea of “Menboku” felt like a heavy burden, a pressure to conform and avoid missteps. It seemed to create an environment where directness was scarce, and apologies were sometimes offered even for things outside one’s control. But with time, I began to see its inherent beauty. “Menboku” at its core, is about empathy and consideration for others. It fosters a society built on mutual respect, where individuals are deeply mindful of their actions. It is the invisible thread that often holds the fabric of Japanese relationships so tightly.

For me, “Menboku” is a concept that needs time to study to fully understand. My encounters with this concept have not just been observations, they’ve been lessons. They’ve taught me to listen more carefully to what is not said, to read the air, to appreciate the nuance in a gesture, and to understand the profound value placed on harmonious relationships. The weight of “Menboku” is not a burden to be shunned, but rather a profound cultural value that shapes interactions with grace and a deep sense of shared humanity. It’s a concept that continues to unfold for me, adding another rich layer to my ongoing letter from Japan.