The Intelligence That Emerges When We Let Go of Knowing
Kawai Hayao (1928–2007) was one of Japan’s most influential clinical psychologists and a pioneer in introducing Jungian psychology to Japan.
Born in Sasayama, Hyōgo Prefecture, he first studied mathematics at Kyoto University. Drawn to the clarity of logic, he was nonetheless haunted by a question that numbers could not touch―the mystery of human existence itself.
“I caught a glimpse of the ‘queen of mathematics,’” he once said with a quiet smile, “but I thought―perhaps this is not my path.”
In an age that celebrated reason, his decision to leave the sciences for psychology was extraordinary.
Behind it lay an intuition: that life possesses depths no equation can reach.
In the 1950s, Kawai studied psychology at UCLA and later trained at the C. G. Jung Institute in Zurich, becoming the first Japanese to qualify as a Jungian analyst.
There he encountered sandplay therapy. At first he doubted it―how could playing with sand be therapeutic?
Yet as he immersed himself in that silent world of sand and miniature figures, he was moved by a healing power that existed beyond words.
From that experience he learned a lifelong attitude: to respect what cannot be fully understood.
This humility became the heart of his clinical philosophy and resonated deeply with the quiet spirit of Japanese culture.
What Kawai sought was the moment when something unspoken begins to arise between people or between events.
When humans meet, understanding is not forced, nor is meaning imposed.
Something begins to take shape―gently, without intention―simply because people are there together, sharing the same space and time.
Kawai saw in this subtle process a profound wisdom of the human heart.
To truly see, he believed, one must first let go of the urge to know.
By loosening the grasp of explanation, one becomes able to receive what unfolds before the eyes.
Then, out of silence, unexpected insight and harmony can emerge.
For Kawai, genuine understanding was never the act of fitting experience into a ready-made understanding.
It was something that arises naturally within relationship.
The space and time that allow such arising―he called this chū-kū, the “hollow center.”
It is not created by the conscious mind but born from the quiet movement of the field itself.
Kawai carried this attitude into both psychotherapy and the study of culture.
He saw the mind and society not as things to be controlled or shaped from outside,
but as living forms that slowly take shape from within.
That calm gaze―patient, unhurried, and quietly receptive―was the current running through all his thought.
The Person Behind the Work
From Mathematics to the Human Mind
In his youth, Hayao Kawai studied mathematics until around 1962, known for his clear and logical mind. Yet at some point, he began to wonder about something that numbers could never capture―the mystery of human nature itself. After glimpsing what he called “the queen of mathematics,” he admitted with a smile, “Perhaps that world isn’t for me.” His shift from mathematics to psychology was highly unusual at the time, yet Kawai later reflected, “Because I come from a background in mathematics, I tend to analyze things scientifically… but I came to feel that this alone was not enough.”
Encounter with Sandplay Therapy in Switzerland
While studying at the C. G. Jung Institute in Switzerland, Kawai encountered sandplay therapy―a discovery that changed his path forever. At first, he was puzzled: How could playing with sand possibly lead to healing? But when he experienced it for himself, he was deeply moved by the quiet world that emerged from sand and miniature figures. Through that experience, he deepened his belief in “respecting what cannot be understood.” Upon returning to Japan, he felt instinctively that nonverbal expression resonated deeply with the Japanese spirit, and began introducing sandplay in a form attuned to Japanese sensitivity and culture.
The Art of Silence and Simply Seeing
When Kawai introduced sandplay therapy to Japan, he emphasized not interpretation but the act of simply seeing. In his therapy room, he would greet clients gently―“Well then… hello”―and wait in calm stillness. One story tells of a boy who softly confessed, “I’ve never told anyone this before.” It was, they said, because Kawai “didn’t press, but sat with the same quiet strength.” His clinical style valued presence over analysis, and silence over words―a way of being that invited people to discover meaning within themselves.
A Deep Gaze into Myth and Story
Kawai sought to read myths, folktales, and dreams as meeting points between the unconscious and culture. “Because I studied mathematics,” he once said, “I tend to analyze things scientifically―but I realized that not everything can be understood that way.” For him, stories were vessels of healing. Having lost his younger brother in childhood, Kawai often reflected on death and the presence of evil; those experiences shaped his sensitivity and his gentle humor. People who knew him recalled how he transformed himself―from a quiet, slightly ironic boy into someone who could bring warmth and laughter to others.
The “Empty Core” and Bridging of Cultures
In his seminal book The Structure of the Self-Empty Core of Japan, Kawai proposed that the center of Japanese culture is not a fixed core but a space of emptiness―a hollow center that allows opposites to coexist in harmony. This insight, which he called “the chū-kū structure,” became the heart of his thought. Kawai sought to bridge East and West, linking psychology and culture, words and silence, reason and intuition, science and spirit. The quiet bridge he built continues to live on in education, art, and therapy―a gentle current connecting understanding with wonder.
Editor’s note (Void Base Japan):
We, too, continue to explore how Kawai’s sense of emptiness might be reborn within today’s fractured relationships.
What does listening mean—to you, here, now?
Perhaps that question itself is the beginning of understanding.
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