Beauty as Medicine
Beauty is the invocation that asks for remembrance, even if you have not forgotten it, then it is simply the memory of the miracle to be experienced, a relic of this existence.
Dear All,
I would like to ask you to read these words with attention because they have been carefully chosen, not to be yet another screaming voice in the crowd but to offer a whisper of remembrance. A memory that is present, waiting to be called upon and to come to fruition.
In times when the world seems to harden, when understanding is hard to find, it is the questions that give us answers, that guide us to softness. A softness that is needed to remain hopeful in a world of challenges, or more hopefully put, a world of invitations. For, there is an everlasting invitation that is sent out to us, which comes not as a predefined answer nor as an urgent news item but which whispers in an innocent and often playful question. An invitation that has softly begun to be heard since man began to walk here on Earth, an invitation that reaches deep into the fertile soil, that reflects in the circles on the water, that echoes in the song of the birds, that is felt in the breath of the wind. An invitation that has nothing to do with current affairs or political matters, violence or other issues that place man in an (unnecessarily) insignificant light. What is that invitation? What is actually being asked? It is the question of whether we come to answer the sent-out beauty of life itself, the splendour in which everything is immersed from itself. An invitation to every pair of benevolent eyes to continue to encounter the world in its beauty, to continue to find it even when its paths are muddy with the dirt we scatter over the Earth's crust, to continue to find it then, especially then, in the most innocent of memories, that beauty can never leave us. That we can stubbornly run away when our hearts are torn by everyday reality but that even then there is still a beauty to return to, that beauty always calls us home. And that, that is an enormously reassuring thought that can automatically disarm us, that asks us to lay aside the burdens that we often needlessly carry so that what springs up in our soul bears the eternal fruit of hope.
The intimate blossoming
Beauty is not unambiguous, it does not lay claim to its own form, that is to say, beauty is not limited to blissful aesthetics, traditional arts or romantic notions but precedes the moment we can label it, announces itself in unguarded nakedness. It does not close itself in but facilitates a disarming attitude of openness, in which questions are given space again without the need for the answer. If beauty can be captured in words then this description is equal to its function; beauty is like the stained glass window that channels the light in a rich scattering of colourful shades. Beauty is both the window and the dancing shades on the ground. It is both the portal through which we can pass and the destination we reach by doing so. It has no fixed form but frames certain observations with a glossy edge that makes them leap out in recognition as moments of spontaneous softening. We become permeable, something in our inner landscape is touched and life finds its entrance, as it were, anew. In that softness our eyes open, where before they were frozen because we had been staring too long at the misery of the world, they relax like childlike eyes which behold for the first time the tender dawn. The scope of our encounter with that moment expands and the world flows in. We take a step backwards, as it were, through which the larger surrounding context of our lives gains more perspective, this is paradoxically also a step forward towards a greater felt proximity to it. The horizon that opens up for us simultaneously comes closer, the intimate blossoming of that beauty of which we perceive inwardly is both horizon-widening and distance-reducing. That world no longer seems like something from ‘over there’ but suddenly we recognise that we are standing in the midst of it, that this is the journey for which we have signed up and then we slowly begin to remember that, as David Whyte says: “We sense we are the journey along the way, the one who makes it and the one who has already arrived.”
“When we approach with reverence, great things decide to approach us. Our real life comes to the surface and its light awakens the concealed beauty in things. When we walk on the earth with reverence, beauty will decide to trust us. The rushed heart and arrogant mind lack the gentleness and patience to enter that embrace.”
— John O’Donohue
A sparkling love song
Beauty has the capacity to lift us out of the sleepwalking state of everyday life and merge us for a moment with a greater realisation, one to which we feel we belong. Beauty is the invocation that asks for remembrance, even if you have not forgotten it, then it is simply the memory of the miracle to be experienced, a relic of this existence simply in celebration of it. Beauty is not only our birthright that we may claim throughout our lives, it is the innate ability of man to encounter life and see it reflected in the many fractal reflections in the forms that we normally refer to as beauty. If anything can be rightly said about the essence of human life then our existence is, if I may be so bold as to suggest, an opportunity to come to the remembrance that this life asks to bring existence to celebration. And that celebration, that is the ability to recognise beauty. Beauty is the love letter of life to life itself, like a sparkling love song in which life sings to itself in the mirror. It is there for the sake of existence in honour of existence. The moment we recognise beauty is one of the most intimate moments we can experience as human beings, because beauty does not enter us from outside but actually the other way around, beauty is an imprint of our soul, reflected in the perception of Truth beyond ideas, assumptions or ideologies. It is an inner reflection that radiates outward. Shri Atmananda Krishna Menon says about this: “Beauty is truth itself and that is yourself.” or as the English poet John Keats wrote: “Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all. Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know”. Our life is a walk towards truth, towards the most intimate memory of our existence. This is the pilgrimage we have signed up for, a journey in which we will wander, it turns out, but from which we can never get away. Beauty is a dear companion on this journey, the ever-invited guest who knows how to open the temple doors of our inner garden, in those sacred halls life is experienced again as intimate, so close that it cannot possibly be far away from us.
Through the cracks of your eyelids
To quote the famous words of musician, poet and Zen monk Leonard Cohen: “There is a crack, a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.” So the question is, are you willing to see it, through the cracks of your eyelids? Sometimes it is tempting to close our eyes because they were not made to see so much misery and yet we must make an effort to keep letting that light in, to keep believing with all our heart that beauty is near and to keep wanting to see it. To respond in unguarded moments to the silent whisper by looking with benevolent eyes and wanting to find it, knowing that the destination is not a well-marked location on a map, that it cannot be navigated easily but that there are countless traces, clues and suggestions that hint at how to encounter its whereabouts. Whispering voices that reassure us, that tell us where the tracks are, often the most unlikely of moments such as everyday conversations, passing pedestrians, a leaf fluttering in the wind, a lost whistle concert of a nearby forest dweller, a smile from a stranger. These lead us back to the questions, questions that remain unanswered even if we respond to its call. Can we encounter this world in beauty, not to ignore the suffering of the world but to continue to experience that we are not orphaned by it, not by ourselves nor by each other nor by the world. Can we make our way towards a life in which beauty can be recognised omnipresent, knowing that it is there and can never not be present?
“Out beyond ideas of right doing and wrongdoing, there is a field. I’ll meet you there. When the soul lies down in that grass, the world is too full to talk about. Ideas, language, even the phrase ‘each other’ doesn’t make any sense. The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you. Don’t go back to sleep. You must ask for what you really want. Don’t go back to sleep. People are going back and forth across the doorsill where the two worlds touch. The door is round and open. Don’t go back to sleep.”
— Jalal ad-Din Rumi
The gift that is given
This letter is not in honour of beauty but it is an attempt to describe that beauty itself is the hymn in which we can more fully encounter life and thus fundamentally ourselves. That praise, that trust in life is sorely needed in times when the world continues to be flooded with sorrow. In all this suffering resounds the deep desire to see a shining light again, a beacon of hope, a sign that life is still near. The wounds that lie open ask for delicate care and beauty is a potent medicine, a kind of balm for the soul in which one is confirmed that the world is not a colourless place. Admittedly, it is a medicine that comes with enchanting side effects, be warned, you could easily fall in love again, drunk as a rock at the slightest administration of this vital elixir. Ecstatic like the old Sufi poets, the romantic painters, the troubadours, the bards and the many other artistic souls who were allowed to taste the bittersweet juice of beauty. As the Old Occitan troubadours (related to the modern French word ‘trouver’ meaning ‘to find’) had ‘found it’ so we too have to help each other from time to time to find it, to rediscover the intimate closeness of life. Or as the Celtic bards (which is derived from an old Proto-Indo-European word for ‘he who brings praise’) brought praise, we too have to sing, write poetry or dance simply because the beauty of life calls for it. Every sign of beauty comes as a reminder that life is near, here to be lived through in the greatest (and only) gift that is given to us, namely the opportunity to experience it fully, the complete spectrum of this human experience. Keep your benevolent eyes open, drink in this wondrous creation completely, do not fall into the sleep that keeps you from the gift of experiencing it all, it is here and so near that you cannot possibly get away from it.
To end with the beautiful words of one who in the depths of his being was allowed to realise that he was beauty itself and who subsequently in thousands of verses offered the world rich invitations to experience this for itself, the Sufi poet Jalal ad-Din Rumi: “The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you. Don’t go back to sleep.”
In love and reverence, sven
This written work is part of Seeds of Change.
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Thank you for your words of beauty.
With all the pain & division in the world lately, imagine if we all focused on creating a more beautiful world.
If the farmer just focused on making their farm look & feel more beautiful. Would they pour toxic chemicals on the land? would they plant or cut down trees? Would their animals be happy & healthy? Would the community notice ?
Woukd they contribute?
Imagine the local authorities primary objective was more beauty. Would the infrastructure be complete? Would art & artists be truly valued ?
It is often true that the most beautiful architecture is often the most practical....
Reading this felt like sitting inside a stained-glass window while sunlight moves across the floor. Not as something to analyze, but as something to be slowly steeped in. Beauty isn't a luxury. It's not decorative. It's the language of the soul reminding us we are still here, still capable of wonder, still connected to the sacred thread running through every leaf, every crack, every aching moment.
Thank you for crafting a mirror that doesn't reflect the surface, but invites the inward gaze.