What ever happened to Beauty? Where does it come from? How do we recognize and keep it? Is beauty created or discovered, or both? What is meant by beauty? What is anyone's definition of beauty? And why not go looking for beauty? That is my quest. The quest for beauty; every day. Bits and pieces of beauty can add up to the whole picture. Beauty can be observed in so many ways, and missed so easily.
So what is beauty. It is that which pleases you. Aesthetically it tells you that it is intrinsically good and true. It could be a sight, a sound, or anything which can be but perceived, and appeals to your sense of right, or happiness, or inner peace. Perhaps it is something which has a sense of 'order'. Perhaps it is only a concept or is merely abstract.
How about the word itself. How many words in the English or French actually have three vowels sequentially aligned. And who can recollect the marvelous way Bert (Dick Van Dyke) describes Mary Poppins (Julie Andrews) as bee-utiful, in the classic movie? In other languages the word sounds great as well: belleza, beauté, Schönheit, bellezza, schoonheid, beleza, skjønnhet. The symbols for beauty in Chinese and Japanese are beautiful. For example, observe the symmetry of the character for beauty:
and a beautiful life:
A flower is usually thought of as possessing beauty. Yet how fleeting is a flower. They bloom every year, every season, every week or even every day. But any one flower blossom lasts, to us, such a short while. That beauty comes and goes, but in our memories is stored a lifetime. That beauty we never forget. And many often strive to revive those memories as often as possible. We grow flowers merely for the enjoyment they bring us. Visually striking, flowers are so colorful and radiant. They smell so sweet. When I think of beauty, I often think immediately of flowers. Nature's compact definition of beauty might be the perfect icon for the concept.
But what about sounds. Beauty to hear is more abstract, perhaps, than to see or smell. When one hears music, right away, it starts to suggest beauty. A singing voice may posses more beauty than a simple speaking voice. The variation of tone, in a rhythmic fashion lends some hint of composition which develops into a beautiful sequence. Variation of an atomic theme in a regular pattern tends to be a simplified definition of beauty.
Even now as I write these words, I perceive beauty all around me. I occasionally look up from by screen to look out the window. In winter, I see the sun break through the clouds. My peripheral vision detects the change in the scene outside. The light increase immediately distracts my attention, I look up this time to see the sun shining on the bare trees. These trees most would consider beautiful in summer. I find them beautiful all year round. The sunshine bounces off their bark in radiant splendor, turning gray to brown and beaconing me to take a walk amongst them. So now I go, knowing I'll soon return to this task, once the beauty is observed, for now.
Upon return from my walk I am full of ideas. The only problem is: I hope I can remember them all. In time I am confident I will. Briefly, I will condense some of those thoughts here: After having been slightly delayed by the awakening of my 8 year old daughter, I fixed her pancakes for breakfast. This activity brought another source of beauty, selfishly doing for others, because I gain enjoyment from seeing their delight in the receiving. Note I don't say selflessly.
My daughter tells me I'm crazy, and laughs. What a delight.
Now the sun has returned again, bringing me back to my original train of thought. As I embarked on a short walk on a warm winter's day, the first day of the year, I find that the sun has again become obscured by the clouds. Direct sunlight for me has always been a source of pure gladness. With its absence I feel a slight sense of wanting, but now the beauty takes over with my knowledge that it will return. I distribute pieces of bread for the birds and deer, again rejoicing in my doing for others, and proceed on my walk.
The trail is damp and wet, but feels good under foot. I walk between a patch of clubmoss, a beautiful source of green on an otherwise gray and brown day. The terrain is hilly and wooded, just like I like it. Aha, the sun returns this soon, as if it were a passing hole in the clouds, floating slowly across the adjoining side of the ridge I traverse, across a row of white pine trees, generously illuminating the woods with a radiant glow, sharpening the aspects of the trees and casting shadows across the ground, with parallel lines converging upon infinity. And when that hole in the clouds has passed, I see the light too pan down the ridge and off into the distance across a field then out of my sight, only to have another return soon to recreate the entire animated display as if just for me.
A huge oak tree, long since living, had previously fallen across my trail, and I know to get around it I have to stray up a steep embankment and around the large area of fallen sticks and trees which were taken down as well. Yet in this divergence I find beauty in thinking of the ways I can re-route my trail. At the top I stop to observe more of what's around me. Standing perfectly still I hear a bluejay squawking loudly, and the calls of a chickadee and a nuthatch. Even in winter the beautiful sounds of nature never fail to enchant.
Now I feel a cool breeze blowing softly across my cheeks, and smell the freshness in the air. I make note to add two more perceptions to my catalogue of sensations. Is it beautiful to feel a fresh breeze on one's skin? When sitting at a desk doing one's work, or inside one's home, is it not a gentle diversion to imagine oneself with a pure invigorating draft of the clean fluid we call air? I take one more deep breath and continue on with my quest for beauty, hoping not to miss a single bit of it.
Soon I glance up, again alerted by a subtle movement acknowledged by my peripheral vision, to see first one then multiple deer bounding through a group of hemlock trees across the valley. The most charming aspect of a deer is its exquisite white tail extended to the sky as it leaps away. In my mind I wonder why the deer dislike me so, they always run away when I approach, but my heart tells me that this is only their instinct. So even the running away of deer brings beauty to me. If deer never ran away I'd hardly ever see those beautiful white tails. So I take comfort in knowing that their instinctual fear of man will always deliver to my eyes a beautiful sight.
I now hear a hawk in the distance, toward the edge of the field. I note that the other bird sounds have disappeared. How do I find beauty in this knowledge. At first I try to make an instant correlation: is it the arrival of a hawk that makes the other birds grow quiet? Is there a statistical connection to this event? Or am I trying to bring beauty to the data by making a rule in my mind which might not exist? Is there beauty in extrapolating data that my senses have perceived? Does my mind find harmony in cataloging all things in a way to fit defined patterns or rules? Can there also be beauty in realizing that things may just simply be coincidence? Is it Correlation or Coincidence?
There are two realities, the real reality, and the model in one's mind of that reality. Trying to keep these two in synchronism is often a feat replete with beauty. And sometimes its beautiful to forget all our rules and preconceived notions and simply see the world through a child's eyes.
Aha. Now I find I have forgotten a few of the topics I was going to write about. They are still there, I am sure, but I just can't find the link to them which lets me bring those thoughts to the surface of my consciousness. I find that at times I store things in memory in a graphical manner. So on my walk, at each juncture or feature, I had a certain topic I wanted to discuss. For the first part of my trip I have been able to recall each of those items. For instance, at hemlocks I recalled the deer; at the juncture of two streams at the halfway point of my trail I recollected the sound of the hawk, and the point I wanted to make about coincidence versus correlation. The next stop on my journey through the woods I have a cognitive point of association which has become temporarily disconnected. At this place I now search my memory for the topic I wanted to discuss. I visualize the aspects of this locale. There is a fallen tulip poplar tree which I walk upon, as if it were part of the trail.
There are wild grape vines stretched in triangular fashion because of the falling of this tree. There is beyond that a creek with several tiny waterfalls. Most would not call them waterfalls, as they are only about 6 inches tall.
The waterfalls brings back one of my notions to portray: Imagination. Would most people find beauty in a babbling brook or creek: yes. Would they imagine a portion of that creek to be a waterfall: likely no, but hopefully yes. It is with imagination that we can mould alluring bits of nature into grand canyons of beauty. And not just nature per se, but with anything we can think of. Building beauty where it may not readily be seen is fitting endeavor for anyone. Make beauty.
One way to make beauty is with photography or art. What does a picture or painting give you. A snapshot frozen in time of beauty. In real time one sees beauty, but it is hardly ever frozen to be viewed by many for more than a passing instant. Usually once you have passed it by, you have only your memory to keep it. With a picture or painting it is preserved and can be viewed in a context which freezes that beautiful thought for all. It goes back to the notion that there is a model of reality. The picture fills in as the model in an 'external to the mind' extension.
