Contemporary composer John Tavener said beauty can save humanity. I think the difficulty is defining beauty, because it's different to everyone. So is god.
Contemporary composer John Tavener said beauty can save humanity. I think the difficulty is defining beauty, because it's different to everyone. So is god.
"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder," but I would go beyond that aphorism to add, beauty is what we love.
And love is mysterious, fickle, inexplicable. I remember falling in love, then telling a friend about the man and how handsome he was. After introducing them I asked my friend, "Isn't he handsome?" The reply was a shrug and a noncommital, "Well, he's cute." In hindsight, my new beau had several physical attributes I liked, but the whole package was ordinary, which was part of the attraction for me. His beauty had more to do with how I felt than how he looked.
I've fallen in love with nature, too. Let me tell you its wonders!
This is the first sunny morning in three weeks. I know, because three weeks ago I lay in a hospital bed recovering from surgery. That day I noticed a sunbeam through the window by my bed, and it was the last.
How I've missed my walks by the river! But my strength is returning, so this morning I plodded to the park. Leaves along the sidewalk were bordered with frost. The air in the street was frosted with mist, set aglow by rising light. Jeeps and minivans along Kingsmill Avenue billowed breaths of white exhaust, warming themselves and waiting for their families to board. Moist sunbeams angled through the maple branches. In the woods, green leaves still clung to understorey shrubs. November is lush and golden with nostalgia.
My heart stirs with exuberance, but I realize the next man might be immune to this beauty. When the mottling of gold light in an oak tree stops me in my tracks, and I stand admiring the deep earth colours, I know it's only infatuation. So is my admiration of a tall elm standing naked and elegant agaist the clear fall sky.
For us to perceive beauty, there must be complexity and mystery, but at the same time we need some hints toward understanding. I appreciate Tavener's music because I can begin to grasp its meaning. To someone else it must be bewildering, just as heavy metal remains opaque to my mind.
It would be easy for me to cast judgment on those who hold too dearly to humanity's bare creations: glaring steel, dependable machines, teeming cities, raucous electronic light and sound. Such things are less to my taste.
Yet people with different values might criticize me just as easily. My attachment to green things, wild animals, delicate music and art from times past might seem quaint and foolish to them.
Again, it's like god. We don't all believe the same things. We never will.
I want to be an evangelist for nature, preach the good news that beauty and wonder lie just beyond your doorstep. You can welcome the Earth into your heart, worship its majesty.
But my gospel will always be incomprehensible to some. I don't want to alienate myself from them by assuming I have nothing to learn from them. In my way of thinking, we all need one another. We're part of a valuable whole.
So I hold this beauty to my own heart, hoping others will see it, and for me that is enough.
All written material and images are ©1997-2002 Van Waffle. This page updated Nov. 20, 2002.
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