On Monday we looked at building intrinsic capability to live a more meaningful and fulfilling life. On Wednesday I offered an overview of one great thinker’s suggestion for doing such capability building. Matthew E. May wrote a wonderful fable based on the Zen practice of shibumi principles. He kindly agreed to answer a few questions here—some that many people asked and a few I was particularly curious about.

What is shibumi?

Shibumi is a Zen concept without direct translation or definition in English. It comes from aesthetic design ideals of art, architecture, and gardening, but it has come to be used to describe those things that exhibit in paradox and all at once the very best of everything and nothing. Understated beauty. Elegant simplicity. Effortless effectiveness. Beautiful imperfection. The height of personal excellence. When you experience shibumi, there’s this ineffable quality to the moment and there are simply no other, better words to express the feeling.

The story you tell about Andy Harmon, a laid-off executive forced to retool his career, is certainly timely. Was it the economy that prompted you to write the book?

In a way, yes. If I know anything, it’s that breakthroughs of any sort require something to break through. And it’s the setbacks, really, that harbor the power to transform our lives. The economy seemed the perfect crisis around which to weave a story based in reality. The word for crisis in Japanese has two sets of characters: one for danger and one for opportunity. A sudden, unexpected crisis is an opportunity and if we view it that way, which admittedly is not easy when we’re simply trying to survive, like Andy is, it can lead us in new directions, directions we perhaps should have taken anyway, but new nonetheless.

Andy Harmon is rather skeptical at first of some of the Zen principles that ultimately help him through his job crisis. What led to your interest in these Eastern practices?

I was exposed to Eastern philosophy and principles through an eight-year-long partnership with Toyota. It changed completely how I view the world. But not immediately. Like Andy, I was skeptical. I struggled, with many concepts, practices, and people. And like Andy, somewhere in the middle of my tour of duty, I had a shibumi moment…a moment of utter clarity. I felt wide awake, connected, and balanced, like I knew exactly who I was, what I wanted, and why I’m here.

How difficult do you think it is for someone to adopt a different way of thinking and how do you see it happen in your coaching work?

It’s always hard to change! But mostly that’s because we come right at it without a workable strategy and tools, so we end up clutching on to our old ways even tighter. Sometimes it’s actually easier to adopt a new way of thinking when you’re thrown a curve ball and you have “the burning platform.” It forces you to think differently. It’s much harder to change when things are going well. That’s why the kaizen mindset of continuous improvement in pursuit of perfection is so important. When every day becomes the chance to do something better than you did yesterday, there’s always a burning platform. You become the creator of change. When I help people adopt kaizen, shibumi is just a matter of time.

You use many great metaphors throughout the book and they’re a powerful part of your storytelling. One of my favorites is Aikido. Can you help us understand the role of metaphor as part of “story” and “learning” using Aikido?

I once heard my friend Dan Pink, a great writer and speaker, say that while a picture is worth a thousand words, a good metaphor is worth a thousand pictures. I agree. Metaphors in general, as a literary mechanism, are a very powerful way of getting a point across in a memorable way that also leaves things open to interpretation by the reader. The reason I chose Aikido as the martial art of choice for the wise Mariko is that Aikido, more so than other martial arts, focuses on achieving the maximum effect with the minimum means. It embodies the concept of shibumi.

Aikido seeks to minimize movement and redirect the flow of energy exerted by others; it takes external force and exploits it in an effort to make a dangerous situation safe. And that, in essence, is what Andy Harmon learns to do. External forces confront him, but battling them head on and metaphorically trading blows, which is more of a boxing or karate approach, doesn’t work for the simple reason that they are far too overwhelming and powerful. He must seek an alternative path, to use the energy of those forces but direct them differently, and thus repurpose his own energy. In the end his life is transformed because he has turned those forces, the forces of an overbearing system, in his favor.

Finally, what prompted you to write in fable format after two successful books written in traditional business narrative style?

I think people love stories more than anything. I know I do. I happen to think they’re the most powerful way to capture hearts and minds, make a point, and send a message. I wanted to deliver a reading experience through a short and accessible story that hit home in a universal way, but also in a uniquely personal way. I wanted to write a story that went beyond the business arena. I wanted to create memorable characters, explore a new voice, and develop my storytelling skills. I wanted to help people in the middle of a crisis. I felt the best way to do this was with a script, a story, with actual characters, that people could identify with. By empathizing with the character, the reader is more emotionally moved and may be open to a change.