Culture Lesson: Zabuton

The other day a friend of mine related an interesting little tidbit about Japanese culture that she had learned from a television show over the weekend.

The traditional Japanese cushion, known as a zabuton, is one of the everyday items found and utilized in just about every household across the country. Even homes that sport Western-style seating employ this traditional piece for many daily activities. They are as prevalent as chopsticks, and even if you simply visit the country, you have plenty of chances to experience these cushions when you enter a restaurant for a meal.

Side-effects of using these cushions for long periods of time might include numbness and tingling (for the inexperienced), and newfound flexibility (for long-time users, such as myself). I’ve often wondered if having to continually stand and sit contributes to the strength of the elderly here…

But I digress.

Zabutons are generally square, measuring 20-30 inches on a side, is approximately 2” thick, and are most often made of woven straw. Not the softest cushion I’ve ever sat on, but certainly better than the cold, hard floor.

Like everything traditional in Japan, there is a proper way to both present and use the zabuton. The tidbit I mentioned deals primarily with presentation, and so we will focus on that. It came about during that notorious time of warfare known as the Edo period.

When a guest comes to visit and it’s time to offer them a seat, both the guest and host will kneel on the floor. The host will then present a zabuton that’s folded in half, the open end facing the guest, placing it on the floor. With a slow, deliberate motion, the host opens the zabuton toward himself and solemnly pushes it over to the guest, who will then use it to cushion himself from the unforgiving floor.

This whole elaborate process was, for practical reasons, created to develop trust and afford some protection for the clans. The visitor could see for himself that there were no weapons hidden within the cushion, thus bolstering a reasonable certainty that a surprise attack would not be immediately forthcoming.

It would eventually find itself a part of traditional Japanese culture, meant to represent the host’s honorable intentions towards his guest, and that no ill will or treacherous designs were in place.

So, what does it mean now? I asked.

“Oh, it’s just the really polite way to offer a zabuton to guests, and I don’t think most of us even know how to do it properly.”

“You mean… you didn’t know this before you watched the show?”

“No, I think most Japanese don’t know why we do the things we do sometimes!” she replied with a laugh.

Considering I often don’t know why the Japanese do the things they do… let’s just say conversations like this help level out the playing field a little more.