Kansō: The Quiet Power of Simplicity

Kansō (簡素) is a core aesthetic and philosophical principle in Zen. It refers to simplicity, minimalism, and the elimination of clutter — not just visually, but in action, thought, and lifestyle.

This is the first in a series I’m working on to explore the core principles in Zen Buddhism. No fixed schedule, no particular order. Subscribe to receive them as they come.

In a culture that glorifies more — more stuff, more hustle, more optimization — there’s a quiet rebellion in doing less. Not out of laziness, but out of clarity.

The Japanese call it kansō (pronounced kahn-soh).

Kansō means simplicity — the stripping away of ornamentation and unburdening of excess. It’s the art of removing what’s unnecessary so that what is can speak more clearly. It's about being less for the purpose of experiencing more.

This isn’t minimalism co-opted for aesthetic points. It’s a form of spiritual technology. A reminder that true clarity doesn’t come from adding more — it comes from letting things go.

Applying Kansō

In keeping with the meaning of kansō, there's really no need to overcomplicate the way you bring this concept into your life and practice.

Simplify your physical space by getting rid of objects that no longer serve you, stop buying things you don't need, avoid multitasking, and impose limits on the chatter you allow into your mind.

1. Simplify Your Environment

“The things you own end up owning you.” — Tyler Durden

The most obvious application of kansō is through the lens of minimalism — de-emphasizing your need for more things, more stimulation, and more status. Let go of the false idea that more = better.

Minimalism looks different for everyone. You don’t need to move into a tiny house and give away all your worldly possessions to embrace the spirit of kansō. For many, it simply means being more conscious about the things you buy and spending a little bit of effort from time to time to eliminate items that no longer serve you.

Capsule wardrobes, decluttered desks, and mindful purchasing habits are all modern echoes of this principle.

2. Simplify Your Mental Chatter

"Muddy water is best cleared by leaving it alone." — Alan Watts

Even more important is to simplify how we think and act. Multitasking, overthinking, and compulsive planning all add layers of mental clutter — the kind kansō encourages us to let go of. They create fragmentation — a thousand half-thoughts competing for attention instead of a single, clear thread of focus.

Perhaps the most impactful way we can apply kansō to our mental chatter is through a conscious limiting of the way we engage online.

To me, this means setting boundaries with how much noise I allow in from the digital world. The concept of a digital detox couldn’t be more relevant here. Every moment spent on social media, scrolling news feeds, or chasing vanity metrics clutters our minds and drains our attention from what matters.

Even something as simple as switching to a dumbphone or reserving one day a week free of computer screens can work to declutter our thoughts and simplify our daily rhythm. It's not about total disconnection, but simplifying the mental chatter we allow into our minds.

The Great Brain Drain

3. Simplify Your Desires

"Want less. Need less. Suffer less."

Another dimension of kansō is the release of mimetic desire — which is the unconscious force that causes us to want things simply because others do, rather than because they hold any real value for us.

Mimetic desire is a form of psychological maximalism — it creates a pile of new wants and desires from imagined needs that don't serve any real value, thereby diluting the meaning we gain from the things that do.

This example of kansō might be the most relevant to Zen as a whole, which emphasizes the importance of letting go of attachment — a practice that begins by releasing ourselves from the grip of desire.

Before buying something, stop and ask yourself, "Do I actually need this? Does it serve a real, practical purpose in my life that I'm not already getting from something else?"

I’ve found that giving myself a three-week waiting period before buying something helps me answer this question more honestly. If I still want it after three weeks, I can get it — but in about 90% of cases, I realize I didn’t actually need it after all and refrain from buying it.

4. Simplify Your Focus

"The hunter that chases two rabbits catches none."

Doing one thing well is always more powerful than doing five things halfway. To do this, we must commit ourselves fully to the task at hand, casting aside everything else — at least for a while.

This has become essential in my writing practice. I feel as though my best work almost always comes from sessions where I was able to ignore the rest of my never-ending to-do list, turned off my phone, and closed the 50 browser tabs I somehow always have open. It’s only when I remove the distractions completely that I can access the clarity — and the flow — needed to write something that actually makes sense.

Science backs this up, too — despite what many of us believe, we’re not actually capable of multitasking. What we’re really doing is rapidly switching between tasks, and every switch comes with a cognitive cost. It’s inefficient, mentally exhausting, and leads to poorer results across the board. Simplifying our focus is actually the best way to make the most use of your effort.

Kansō Aesthetics

It's impossible to discuss kansō without acknowledging its role as a design principle. In Japan, a country deeply rooted in Zen philosophy, the concept of kansō is recognized as one of the 7 core aesthetic pillars of wabi-sabi that inform both traditional and modern design.

These 7 principles include:

1. Kansō (simplicity)

2. Fukinsei (asymmetry)

3. Shibui (subtle beauty)

4. Shizen (naturalness)

5. Yūgen (mystery)

6. Datsuzoku (freedom from convention)

7. Seijaku (stillness)

In design, kansō means much more than minimalism — it's a conscious effort to emphasize beauty and functionality through a process of elimination, rather than adornment or decoration.

By eliminating aspects that aren't totally necessary to form and function, designers are able to place more emphasis or draw more attention to the parts that matter most.

The result is a sort of quiet elegance. Nothing extra, nothing forced.

The most obvious applications of kansō are things like zen gardens, traditional Japanese tea rooms, or contemporary Japanese architecture.

Outside of Japan, you can find a masterful application of kansō in projects like Mies van der Rohe’s Farnsworth House, The Casa Wabi Foundation by Tadao Ando, or Peter Zumthor’s Therme Vals.

These are all high-profile examples of master architects, but kansō elements can be found all over the place. For example, this simple A-frame cabin — stripped-down, functional, and quietly beautiful. Or something as ordinary as a single-speed bike.

Kansō as a design principle can be applied to anything — clothing (Lemaire, COS), product design (Apple, Bang & Olufsen), furniture (Ikea, Muji), kitchenware (Hasami Porcelain, Heath Ceramics), and much more.

The application of kansō in design carries the same essential purpose as it does in life — to strip away what’s unnecessary so the parts that truly matter can stand out. In design, this means refining form and function. In life, this means reducing friction to create more space for a clear mind and genuine connection to the present moment.

A Simple Practice: Kansō

Before you move on to the next thing, pause and take a look around you.

What’s one thing in your physical space, digital world, or daily routine that’s adding noise instead of meaning?

What would it feel like to let it go?

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