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Archive for the ‘beauty’ Category

Beauty and Perception

05 Jan

Before reading the rest of the post, please watch this video (it takes less than three minutes):

The video in question was shot on a January day in 2007.  The venue was a subway station in Washington D.C. during the morning rush hour.

As you can see from the video, almost everyone ignored the young violinist.  They were in a hurry, and street musicians are a dime a dozen. In three-quarters of an hour only seven people stopped what they were doing to listen to the music for at least for a minute. Twenty-seven gave money, most of them on the run — for a total of $32 and change. That leaves 1,070 people who hurried by, oblivious, many only three feet away, few even turning to look

Only one woman recognized the performer: Joshua Bell, perhaps the greatest violinist of this generation.

Joshua played that morning a violin handcrafted in 1713 by Antonio Stradivari.  It is worth 3.5 million dollars.  He performed an incredibly difficult piece. And no-one listened.

A few days earlier Bell had sold out a large Boston theatre where good seats went for $100.  But in the subway, people walked within three feet of the great musician playing the Stradivarus, and would not even break pace.

If you look at the video again, you may find yourself feeling what someone called “a certain soul shattering sadness” as you see the people totally oblivious to the beauty right in front of them. 

It makes one wonder: what incredible, beautiful, mysterious things do I pass by each day, simply because I was not expecting to find beauty there?

Lord, open our eyes!

 
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We Murder to Dissect

23 Nov

The other poem by Wordsworth I have also chosen to follow up on some thoughts last week.  It is one of my favorites. Wordsworth regarded it as something of a compliment to the poem I shared yesterday.  It is called, The Tables Turned (1798)

  Up! up! my friend, and clear your looks,
  Why all this toil and trouble?
  Up! up! my friend, and quit your books,
  Or surely you’ll grow double.

  The sun, above the mountain’s head,
  A freshening lustre mellow
  Through all the long green fields has spread,
  His first sweet evening yellow.

  Books! ’tis dull and endless strife,
  Come, here the woodland linnet,
  How sweet his music; on my life
  There’s more of wisdom in it.

  And hark! how blithe the throstle sings!
  And he is no mean preacher;
  Come forth into the light of things,
  Let Nature be your teacher.

  She has a world of ready wealth,
  Our minds and hearts to bless–
  Spontaneous wisdom breathed by health,
  Truth breathed by chearfulness.

  One impulse from a vernal wood
  May teach you more of man;
  Of moral evil and of good,
  Than all the sages can.

  Sweet is the lore which nature brings;
  Our meddling intellect
  Mishapes the beauteous forms of things;
  –We murder to dissect.

  Enough of science and of art;
  Close up these barren leaves;
  Come forth, and bring with you a heart
  That watches and receives.

In the haunting warning, we murder to dissect, Wordsworth captures the essence of the romantic movement more clearly and briefly than any other poet.  It is not a protest against science and rationalism per se, but rather recognition that science and rationalism can lose the forest for the trees (to use a cliché).  This reflects my own worries about living in an age where science now reigns supreme.  It’s not that I don’t respect science.  Rather, I fear lest we murder all the majesty and mystery of life by dissecting it to ever deeper levels.

 

A Wise Passiveness

23 Nov

Today and tomorrow I want to share two poems that reflect on some of my posts last week.  They are both by Wordsworth.  In the first, he hears and responds to a friend, Matthew, criticizing him for communing with nature instead of studying the books.  It is called, Expostulation and Reply (1798).

 

 

“WHY, William, on that old grey stone,

Thus for the length of half a day,

Why, William, sit you thus alone,

And dream your time away?

 

 

“Where are your books?–that light bequeathed

To Beings else forlorn and blind!

Up! up! and drink the spirit breathed

From dead men to their kind.

 

 

“You look round on your Mother Earth,

As if she for no purpose bore you;

As if you were her first-born birth,

And none had lived before you!”

 

 

One morning thus, by Esthwaite lake,

When life was sweet, I knew not why,

To me my good friend Matthew spake,

And thus I made reply:

 

 

“The eye–it cannot choose but see;

We cannot bid the ear be still;

Our bodies feel, where’er they be,

Against or with our will.

 

 

“Nor less I deem that there are Powers

Which of themselves our minds impress;

That we can feed this mind of ours

In a wise passiveness.

 

 

“Think you, ‘mid all this mighty sum

Of things for ever speaking,

That nothing of itself will come,

But we must still be seeking?

 

 

“Then ask not wherefore, here, alone,

Conversing as I may,

I sit upon this old grey stone,

And dream my time away,”

 

Communing with the natural world brings its own wisdom, that Wordsworth called, a wise passiveness. How many times I recall sitting and staring at some mountain pool, or fiery tree, and how it has brought such a wise passiveness and calmness to the stress of my soul.  It taught me not how to think about my life and about God, but how to feel about these things.  It has reminded me of the two greatest truths needed for mental health: there is a God, and I am not Him.

 

What Do You See? (part 3)

19 Nov

What I have been trying to get at in these last few posts is that there is a way of looking at the world around us that goes beyond the data from our senses.

I want to conclude with a poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning:

Earth is crammed with heaven,
and every common bush is on fire with God;
but only he who sees takes off his shoes;
the rest sit around it and pluck blackberries.

 
 
Random thoughts on life, the universe and everything