The question crossed my mind when skimming various news stories about the feeding frenzy of shopping that precedes Christmas. Where there is no space, no room, there is likewise no beauty in my book. Beauty requires space and Christmas stuff creates less of it. Stuff is seldom, if ever, beautiful.
What is beauty? To me, it is just what melts me. It is not something I have control over. Music, art, a cocked eyebrow, the touch of a single finger -- it can come from anywhere at any time. Suddenly I am somehow 'gone' and 'home' simultaneously. Whooosh!
If all of this sounds self-centered and piggish, well, so be it. I remain a sucker for beauty both in its particulars and in its spaces. It is not something that requires a philosophy or the agreement of others. Like the Supreme Court observation about pornography, "I may not know what it is, but I know what it is when I see it."