Is There Another Way To Smell?
Practices in Smelling: Olfactory carving.
In ancient China, the most skilled jade carvers had a practice that, to outsiders, looked like they were doing nothing. Every day the carver approached the jade, picked it up, held it up to the light, turned it every which way, then set it down and walked away. He did this for as long as it took.
He didn’t come with a design to impose on the jade. He simply observed, waiting for something in the jade to come out and reveal itself: a color that deepened in one corner, a vein that indicated movement, a curve that showed a softness.
It made me wonder, as it always does, why we don’t approach smelling this way.
Think about the last time you smelled something.
Take, for example, a perfume: your brain naturally starts evaluating what’s inside, looking for familiar notes that can be identified. Immediately you begin to intellectualize: you give the scent labels, you assign categories, and instantly judge.
If you’re confident, you’ll name it yourself: “it’s got lavender, a hint of citrus, with a touch of musk.” If you’re unsure, you’ll look at the pyramid-structured marketing description instead: “peach and red apple form a bright, mouthwatering opening while creamy frangipani adds warmth at the heart. In the dry down, comforting musk melts into the skin.”
It turns out we’re culturally conditioned to approach smelling the “Western” way, through creation. We smell as if we’re an artist painting on a blank canvas. We walk into a room and narrate it. We fill the space with meaning, deciding if it’s good or bad, safe or dangerous, inviting or unpleasant.
So much of how we experience the world is built on the Western philosophy of art, shaped by Greek thinkers Plato and Aristotle: we observe, we interpret, we impose meaning. It’s an individualistic approach that makes us the creator of the experience.
We’re used to projecting a story on the smell.
The jade carver would have us experience it first.
The Eastern philosophy of art, shaped by Taoism and Buddhist thought, takes the opposite approach: the artist doesn’t impose, they receive. For them the form already exists, the meaning is already there. Their role is simply to get out of the way and let it reveal itself.
What if we approached smelling in the “Eastern” way? What if we let the smell lead and we simply received? No judgement, just witnessing. A sort of olfactory carving.
We already have access to this way of smelling. We just rarely choose to use it.
Remember that smell is different from our other senses: it’s the only one that hits both the emotional and thinking parts of your brain at the same time. When you smell something, you feel it and interpret it simultaneously. Sight, sound, touch, and taste go through the thinking brain first, then arrive at feeling. Smell arrives everywhere at once, and that’s its advantage.
When we smell the “Western” way we’re focused more on the information than simply bathing in the experience. And in a time when we’re absolutely drowning in information, what an incredible opportunity we have to use our sense of smell in a different way.
With an “Eastern” smelling approach we listen to what the smell wants to tell us. We don’t judge it. We don’t name it. We let the smell simply reveal itself in all its facets: its tempo, weight, texture, lightness, depth. With patience and openness we close our eyes and pay attention. We bathe in the smell for some time, just like the jade carver approaches his stone.
AN INVITATION
Try this today. Find a smelling opportunity - a flower, a person, a space. Or simply lie down on the grass or sit under a tree if you can.
Close your eyes, open your nose, and for 30 seconds resist labeling what you smell. Now let the smell move through you without immediately deciding what it is.
The art is in staying inside without being drawn to direct. Try not to perform the experience by trying to evaluate what you’re feeling. Don’t lie on the grass thinking “am I feeling something profound yet?” That’s still “Western” smelling even though you’re not labeling it. You’re still performing. You’re still in your head.
Take this olfactory perspective instead: like the jade carver notices a color that’s deeper in one corner, notice where the smell is strongest. Just like he sees a vein that shows movement, notice the tempo and temperament of the smell. Just like he observes a curve that shows a softness, notice how the smell makes a particular part of your body respond.
There is, in fact, another way to smell. I hope you’ll try it.