The Psychology of "Smells and Bells"
There is an appeal in simplicity, in sparseness, in the few beautiful things of a Japanese teahouse, the joyful tidiness of Marie Kondo; this is the “classical” beauty, of bare white marble, free of pigments. (A historically inaccurate view of those once-garishly-painted Roman statues, but an accurate account of how they live today.) Taken to its extreme, there are the starkly nude walls of a Calvinist church, of “thou shalt not make unto thee any grave image” distilled to its highest proof, of (paradoxically) angelism incarnate. Yet, like most things, when not taken to such an extreme, there is a truth in simplicity and sparseness. This denuding, for instance, is a key to meditation, of any kind, from the clearing of the mind prior to lectio divina , to the imageless noetic prayer of the Greek Fathers, to—again, an extreme—the absolute mind-emptiness of Buddhist meditation. There are times when distractions must be cleared away, when a well-swept room is needed for focus. ...