In 17th-century Japan, the ruling samurais of Edo—the capital that would become Tokyo—often instituted a ban on luxury. Sometimes it was an attempt to direct the economy, sometimes it was meant to bully people into better ethics. One rule that followed was that people were to wear only simple clothing.
In The Way of Nagomi, Ken Mogi outlines the common folks’ reaction to this rule: “They went about ordering specially designed clothes that were subdued on the surface but gorgeous inside. […] Thus, those with defiant spirits could wear what appeared to be a simple and modest fabric outside while secretly wearing a gorgeous lining, giving themselves a great morale boost and sense of pride without offending the ruling samurai.” This custom and the philosophy behind it are known as uramasari, which translates to “winning lining.” Winning indeed!
A second rule was that each meal was to consist of only one dish. The people of Okayama had an idea how to best interpret that one, too. They created matsuri sushi. Matsuri means “festival.” In this case, the festival happened in a wooden bucket, into which people stuffed all the usual ingredients of great sushi, such as sashimi, squid, shrimp, eggs, shiitake mushrooms, and so on. Then, they put a layer of rice with vinegar on top, covering everything. What would any suspicious observer see? A bucket full of rice. But turn it upside down onto a large plate inside the safe confines of your house, and…voilà! An amazing sushi platter—but hey, it’s just one dish!
While these are remarkable examples of protecting and exercising your freedom, what struck me most about them is their creativity. Ken Mogi noticed it too: “When there is trouble, in addition to raising your voice directly against it, there might be alternative ways, less obvious or ostentatious but more effective, superficially shy but brave deep down. That is the way of nagomi […], in which one could be creative—in a big way—without being disruptive.”
The people of Okayama and Edo didn’t break the rules—they merely laid them out in their own way. Instead of rebelling against their restrictions, they worked with them and, in the process, created new, brilliant traditions. This defies the Western ideal of the lone genius, who singlehandedly overthrows our worldview with an otherworldly idea. From a Japanese perspective, creativity is “a process of finding an organic blend between what is uniquely oneself and the broader aspects of the wider world.” It’s about mixing assertion and restraint so you may efficiently coexist with everyone and everything else.
Tearing down walls is not the only way to find freedom, and freedom isn’t the only canvas on which creativity can truly blossom. Bend your constraints before you break them. Genius lies in interpreting the rules.