It hangs quietly, modestly – charming, immersed in the still air of the afternoon. A ball of moss, wrapped in string, suspended near a window – like a small green planet shaped from life itself. It doesn't flicker like a phone screen, nor hum like an air conditioner. And yet it draws the eye, soothes the nerves, alters the rhythm of breathing. Just one kokedama is enough to slow everything down — to soften the concrete walls, give color to plastic surfaces, and grant an urban home something that is often lacking nowadays: a living, natural presence. Because it is not merely a decoration — it is a being that breathes, grows, and needs care. And in return, it gives something priceless.
In Japanese tradition, plants are not treated as ornaments, but as companions in life. As early as the Edo period (17th century), the art of nearai bonsai was developed — displaying a tree's roots outside the pot without disturbing their structure, to reveal the natural rhythm of growth and the beauty of form. Kokedama (苔玉 – meaning “moss ball,” but also “living jewel”) was born from this practice, gradually becoming a “bonsai for everyone” — a simpler, more organic form that requires not wealth, but care. By wrapping a soil ball in moss, we give it not only shape but also a story. A story that even in the smallest vessel, a world can bloom. That harmony with nature need not be a distant dream — it can hang above a kitchen table, grow on a windowsill, be like a fragment of forest dwelling with us at home.
Kokedama helps us return to ourselves. Its care teaches patience, tenderness, presence. Daily tending, pruning, observing — these small gestures can become a form of quiet meditation, a reminder that life doesn't need to be fast to be full. Plants enclosed in kokedama are not merely decorative — they help purify the air, absorbing toxins and releasing oxygen, acting as small, biological air filters for the home. But their greatest power is that they are a bridge. Between nature and human. Between the fleeting and the true. We live in a very "unreal" world — isn't it true that such a kokedama might lend it a touch of natural color? Let us get to know them better in today's article.
The very sound of the word — kokedama — seems soft, moist, and green. As quiet as moss growing in the shadow of sugi trees. And yet it contains a form that has symbolized order and perfection for centuries: the sphere.
Starting with etymology, the Japanese word 苔玉 (kokedama) consists of two kanji characters:
- 苔 (koke) – means moss, but it is more than just a botanical description. Moss in Japanese culture has long symbolized time, patience, and the delicate beauty of aging. It is a plant without flowers or showy leaves, but one that enters into a subtle dialogue with stone, shadow, and moisture. In the wabi-sabi aesthetic, moss is practically its archetype — a living metaphor for the beauty of transience.
- 玉 (dama or tama) – this character means sphere, jewel, something precious. Its spiritual connotations are profound: in Buddhism it may symbolize perfection and purity; in mythology – magical stones or divine gifts; and in everyday language – something beloved, full. The kanji 玉 is identical to the one used for royal jewels (gyoku), which lends kokedama not just the identity of a plant, but a form imbued with a special aura of value.
The combination of these two characters thus provides not only a literal description: “ball of moss,” but also a subtle metaphor: “green jewel,” “living sphere of nature,” “essence of tranquility.”
The spherical form is no coincidence — in Japanese culture, and more broadly in Eastern traditions, the sphere symbolizes wholeness, unity, and harmony. A sphere has no beginning or end; it is a closed totality — like the Sun, like a cell, like the mind in a state of meditation. Kokedama thus resembles a miniature planet of life, a personal world enclosed in a balanced form.
In practice, there are several ways to write the word kokedama:
- 苔玉 – the most common and formal form, using kanji characters
- コケ玉 – written in katakana, frequent in modern, aesthetic, or marketing contexts (e.g., on labels)
- 草玉 – a less common variant, literally “ball of plants,” sometimes used interchangeably when the kokedama is not covered in moss but other vegetation
It also happens that in colloquial speech the word kokedama is written entirely phonetically, without kanji, emphasizing its functional and contemporary popularity. Even in the phonetics of the word, there is something soothing — ko-ke-da-ma are syllables perceived in Japanese as soft, rhythmic, “lacking sharp edges.”
Kokedama is more than a plant. It is a delicate, living form that fits in the palms of your hands — a miniature garden, a spherical planet of greenery, an intimate world of roots and moss enclosed in a simple yet enchanting shape. In its most classic version, a kokedama is a plant whose root system is wrapped in a ball of moist soil, then carefully enveloped in soft moss and tied with natural string. This creates something resembling a green jewel — humble, yet refined.
Kokedama can be placed on a flat surface — on a bed of stones, a ceramic saucer, a wooden board — or suspended in the air by a thread or string, becoming part of so-called hanging gardens — a sky garden full of light, floating spheres. In this suspended form, kokedama acquires an almost poetic dimension — as if hovering between earth and sky, swaying with the breath of the wind.
The process of creating a kokedama combines craftsmanship with ritual. It requires focus, gentleness, and attention, but it is not difficult — one can learn it independently. First, an appropriate soil mixture is prepared. Traditionally, peat and akadama clay are used — the same as in bonsai cultivation. Peat provides moisture and lightness, akadama — structure and form retention. The mixture is moistened gradually until it gains a consistency suitable for shaping into a ball.
The plant’s roots, previously gently cleaned of soil, are wrapped in this prepared soil ball. The entire sphere is then covered with green moss — nowadays, dried moss is most commonly used, though live moss may also be used if available. In Japan, popular varieties include suna-goke or arai-shiraga-goke, but outside Japan, other types, including cultivated ones, are successfully used. In urban conditions, where natural moss may be difficult to obtain, coconut fiber is used — coarse, brown, less delicate, but equally durable and breathable.
Once the moss or coconut fiber is carefully fitted to the shape of the ball, the whole is wrapped with natural string or thread — linen, cotton, sometimes hemp. Colored threads can be used to add a personal touch, or one may choose traditional white or subdued brown. Finally, if the kokedama is to hang, a supporting string is attached and its balance is checked. If it is to stand, it is enough to place it on a decorative dish, stones, or even a piece of wood — letting it appear as if it grew directly from tree or earth.
Kokedama is not an industrial product. Each is made by hand, with consideration for the specifics of a given plant — its size, weight, type of roots, moisture needs. This process can become a quiet ritual, repeated in silence or to the sounds of nature, reminding us that the work of the hands can also be the work of the heart. In this simplicity lies the secret of its charm — in the tactile feel of soil and moss, the attentive weaving of threads, and the shaping of life itself.
Although kokedama may appear to be a modern invention, its roots reach deep into the past — to the Edo period (1603–1868), a time when Japan enjoyed centuries of peace, and everyday life and the arts flourished in rhythm with the seasons and a spiritual love for nature. It was during this era that the nearai (根洗い – literally “clean roots”) technique emerged — a variation of bonsai involving growing plants in such a way that their roots filled the vessel almost entirely, forming a compact, dense structure. When such a plant was removed from its pot and placed on a tray of stones or moss, it held its form — appearing as an independent being, a miniature tree that no longer required a frame to exist. This practice, described in horticultural treatises of the Edo period, was not only a technical innovation but also an expression of the wabi-sabi philosophy — the contemplation of impermanence and the beauty of simple things.
Over time, the nearai technique evolved. Among bonsai enthusiasts, a movement arose in search of cheaper, more accessible forms — alternatives to expensive, handmade ceramic pots. From these ideas emerged what we now call kokedama. Initially, it was sometimes referred to as “bonsai for the poor” (binbō bonsai) — not in a derogatory sense, but rather with appreciation for its creative simplicity. Instead of a ceramic pot — a ball of earth; instead of a form imposed by a vessel — organic freedom. This minimalist alternative fit perfectly into the Japanese understanding of beauty — restrained, close to nature, focused on essence rather than outward appearance.
The modern revival of kokedama is credited to Isao Umiji (海地 勲), born in Kōchi Prefecture, who began creating and promoting his moss compositions as early as the 1990s. Umiji — now also known as Koke-jii, or “Uncle Moss” — spent decades conducting workshops, demonstrations, and exhibitions throughout Japan, introducing people to the art of making kokedama in an accessible and intuitive way. In interviews, he recalled that he initially wanted to name his creations kokemaru (苔丸) — “moss ball” — but ultimately the more poetic form prevailed.
At the beginning of the 21st century, kokedama began gaining recognition outside Japan — initially among niche circles of florists, interior designers, and bonsai enthusiasts. A particularly significant role in its popularization was played by the Dutch artist and botanist Fedor Van der Valk, who created the concept of “string gardens” — gardens composed of kokedama suspended in the air, forming ethereal green compositions resembling a miniature universe. His works were exhibited in galleries and public spaces throughout Europe, and the media dubbed him “the creator of plant clouds.”
Today, kokedama is found both in private homes and in garden art exhibitions. In Japan, it appears in tea pavilions, minimalist hotels, but also at gardening fairs and in craft stores. For example, the British organization National Trust included kokedama in the design of a Japanese garden at the historic property A la Ronde, creating an installation that fused European landscape with Asian aesthetics. Likewise, in modern floral boutiques — from Sydney to Berlin — kokedama appears as a living, organic work of art.
The history of kokedama is a tale of how ancient traditions can take on new form. It is a journey from bonsai techniques four centuries old, through the humble alternatives of impoverished garden masters, to contemporary galleries and homes where green moss balls become symbols of mindfulness, simplicity, and a return to what is real.
When looking at a moss sphere hanging in the air or resting on a stone, we instinctively slow down — as if we were recognizing something primordial and true. It’s curious that such a small, unassuming object can have such power — to transport us back into the real world from the fantasies of smartphone and computer screens, even if only for a moment.
Kokedama is a faithful expression of the wabi-sabi philosophy — one of the most important Japanese aesthetics. Wabi-sabi does not seek beauty in perfection or symmetry. It teaches us to see value in what is transient, what bears the marks of time, what is subtle and unassuming (more on that here: How to Stop Fighting Yourself at Every Turn? Wabi Sabi Is Not Interior Design but a Way of Life). The moss covering a kokedama is nothing more than life itself clinging to moisture and shadow. Over time, the moss may turn slightly brown, the soil may crack, the roots may break through the sphere — and this is precisely the point: beauty that does not strive to remain in artificial perfection.
Interacting with a kokedama is a lesson in observing life’s cycles. The plant grows slowly, seemingly unchanged, but each day it reflects light differently, bends its leaves in a new way, smells differently in its dampness. Its presence is a reminder of rhythms that elude calendars — of subtle transformations occurring incessantly, though invisible to the inattentive eye. Kokedama is a microcosm — an intimate zen garden that fits in the palm of a hand, yet leads us inward. One only needs to look at it in silence to feel that it is more than a decoration. It is a space of contemplation — a physical inscription of harmony between the earthly and the ephemeral.
The spherical shape that kokedama takes on is also significant. In Japanese tradition, as in many cultures, the sphere symbolizes wholeness, perfection, and unity. It has no beginning or end, no better or worse sides. It simply is — a closed totality. In kokedama, it is the sphere that becomes the home for life. It is a symbiosis of interior and exterior: soft moss, moist earth, the quiet pulse of roots, the breath of leaves. Nothing is superfluous here. Nothing is merely decorative.
Finally — the process of creating a kokedama is, in itself, ritualistic. Kneading the earth, selecting the right moss, wrapping the string tightly yet gently — this is not quick work. It requires presence. It requires attentiveness. That is why kokedama is often described as a form of meditation. In a culture where speed has become a measure of value, kokedama restores the value of slowness and focus. It becomes a daily ritual of care — not just for the plant, but for one’s own inner life. That is where its cultural and spiritual strength lies.
Creating a kokedama requires neither a garden nor prior gardening experience. All it takes is a desire to make something with your own hands — something living, delicate, that not only decorates a space but also becomes part of a daily ritual of mindfulness. More and more people are choosing this form as an alternative to traditional potted plants, seeking not so much a decoration, but a way to connect with nature.
You can purchase a ready-made kokedama — at floral studios, plant boutiques, online shops with Japanese accessories, or simply in well-stocked garden centers. Some places offer made-to-order compositions, allowing you to choose the specific plant, type of string, and even the style of presentation — from classic moss balls to more modern suspended forms or those placed in vessels.
For those who wish to try their hand at making one, DIY kits are also available — containing the appropriate soil mix, dried moss, string, and step-by-step instructions. But even without special kits, you can gather the necessary components on your own — peat, akadama clay (or a substitute), moss (or coconut fiber), cotton string, and of course, a plant.
Learning to create kokedama can be an enjoyable process — almost meditative. One can start by attending a workshop. In-person courses are increasingly held in botanical gardens, cultural centers, or plant galleries, especially in large cities. Online workshops are also growing in popularity — with kits shipped in advance and live sessions guided by an experienced instructor, who walks participants through the entire process step by step.
For those who value independence and quiet evenings at home, books and guides can be a great resource — not only on kokedama but also on bonsai, ornamental plant cultivation, and especially on wabi-sabi aesthetics, which offer a deeper understanding of the spiritual dimension of this practice. The internet is full of video tutorials, blogs, and photo guides that teach everything from scratch — helping you find your own rhythm of creation. Most often, information about kokedama can be found while looking up bonsai guides — many of them include dedicated sections on moss balls.
Not every plant takes well to life in a spherical world. Ideal are those with small and compact root systems, those that don’t require frequent repotting, and tolerate moist soil well. Ferns — especially Nephrolepis and Asplenium — are classic choices: not only beautiful but also well suited to shade and higher humidity. Fittonias enchant with their leaf patterns, and sansevierias — known for their resilience — allow for longer intervals between watering. Succulents, ivies, certain species of dracaena, and epiphytes like bromeliads and orchids also work well.
It’s better to avoid plants with very extensive, delicate, or brittle roots — such as rosemary, eucalyptus, or certain orchids with large pseudobulbs. Likewise, plants that grow too large or too fast may deform the ball and present care challenges. It's best to start with low-maintenance species and only later experiment with more demanding ones.
Although kokedama is based on a single principle — a spherical form made of soil and moss — its stylistic diversity is vast. The most classic version is a tightly wrapped green moss ball, bound with natural-colored string. It is minimalist, serene — as if taken straight from a Japanese garden.
Increasingly, however, versions wrapped in coconut fiber are appearing — especially practical in urban environments, where access to natural moss is limited. This texture adds a bit of wildness, a raw character to the composition.
The so-called “string garden” — a hanging kokedama garden — is also gaining popularity. These gardens consist of kokedama suspended at varying heights, creating not only an aesthetic effect but an almost dreamlike one — floating green spheres that resemble planets suspended in a tranquil domestic universe. Others prefer more “grounded” forms: kokedama placed on stone trays, in glass vessels, or on wooden coasters. Each of these arrangements gives the plant a new context — it can be the focal point of a room, a subtle detail, or a living amulet by the entrance to a home.
To begin the kokedama journey is, in truth, to invite a ritual into your life — a simple, down-to-earth, calm, and quiet ritual. A ritual in which our hands shape a space for life, and life — with all its persistence — responds by growing.
Although kokedama may appear delicate, with proper care it can be surprisingly resilient. The key lies in careful observation and attunement to the plant’s rhythm — it doesn’t demand daily attention, but it rewards regularity and gentleness.
Watering is most often done by submerging the entire ball in a bowl of lukewarm, soft water (preferably filtered or rainwater) for about 10–15 minutes (though not all plant types like this — it's important to check!). This is usually done once a week, though in the summer or in heated rooms, watering every 3–4 days may be necessary. A helpful indicator is the weight of the kokedama — if it feels light, it likely needs water. Another sign is the color of the moss: if it’s too pale, dry, or brittle, the kokedama is probably dehydrated.
Lighting should be bright but diffused. Kokedama does best near eastern or northern windows, or behind a sheer curtain on southern exposures. Direct southern sun can damage the leaves and dry out the moss, while placing it above a radiator or near heat sources leads to rapid drying of the root ball.
Fertilization is also done through “bathing” — simply add a few drops of liquid fertilizer to the water used for soaking. This is usually done every 3–4 weeks during the plant’s growing season (spring–summer); in winter, fertilization should be reduced or stopped altogether.
Over time, it’s worth trimming dry leaves and stems, and every 2–4 years — depending on the plant species — consider cutting and expanding the ball or completely repotting the plant. This is also a good opportunity to refresh the moss, which may lose its elasticity and color over time. Monitoring humidity and preventing rot is also essential — kokedama should not remain constantly wet nor be placed in sealed containers without drainage. After each “bath,” it’s important to drain excess water and allow the ball to dry slightly before returning it to its spot.
In a concrete world of screens, plastics, and noise, kokedama becomes a quiet reminder that we are part of nature — not its owners, but its children. Just one ball of moss hanging in the corner of a room can change the atmosphere of the entire space. It is not merely a decoration — it is a presence, a living being that breathes alongside us.
Made entirely from natural materials — soil, moss, string, and roots — kokedama places no burden on the environment. Its life cycle aligns with the rhythm of nature: it produces no waste, requires no plastic, and after years can return to the earth without a trace. Moreover, properly chosen plants — such as ferns, Epipremnum, or dracaenas — help purify the air, absorbing toxins and releasing oxygen, acting as small, biological air filters for the home.
But it’s not just the body that benefits. Equally important — if not more so — is kokedama’s effect on the mind. Its care teaches patience, tenderness, and presence. Daily watering, pruning, observing — these small gestures can become a form of quiet meditation, a return to oneself amid the noise of everyday life. Contact with the plant, the touch of moss, the rhythmic winding of string — all of it slows down time, quiets the mind, and reminds us that life doesn’t need to be fast to be full.
Kokedama is a gesture of care — for the plant, for the space, for ourselves. It is a way to let a fragment of the forest come live with us at home.
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未開 ソビエライ
An enthusiast of Asian culture with a deep appreciation for the diverse philosophies of the world. By education, a psychologist and philologist specializing in Korean studies. At heart, a programmer (primarily for Android) and a passionate technology enthusiast, as well as a practitioner of Zen and mono no aware. In moments of tranquility, adheres to a disciplined lifestyle, firmly believing that perseverance, continuous personal growth, and dedication to one's passions are the wisest paths in life. Author of the book "Strong Women of Japan" (>>see more)
"The most powerful force in the universe is compound interest." - Albert Einstein (probably)
未開 ソビエライ
An enthusiast of Asian culture with a deep appreciation for the diverse philosophies of the world. By education, a psychologist and philologist specializing in Korean studies. At heart, a programmer (primarily for Android) and a passionate technology enthusiast, as well as a practitioner of Zen and mono no aware. In moments of tranquility, adheres to a disciplined lifestyle, firmly believing that perseverance, continuous personal growth, and dedication to one's passions are the wisest paths in life. Author of the book "Strong Women of Japan" (>>see more)
"The most powerful force in the universe is compound interest." - Albert Einstein (probably)
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