This is the result of a rather random tangent the mind chose for itself a few days back... as are most new-ish ideas I guess... Escaping that little logic-trap auto-set by & for myself, I shall proceed onwards.
I, am tired.
(Speaking of which, you may want to figure what this is up to)
Digressing back to the point at hand.
I, am tired... of many things around me.
Actually I'm not really affected on those lines at this point, come to think of it. So yeah.. what were we talking about?
The world...
We have always found it most natural to appreciate that which is beautiful; pick the flowers most perfect... gorge on food that is most appealing to the little tastebuds (such poetry laden on a word named with such prose!)... appreciate the most picturesque of sunsets... you get the idea.
We have in fact not fallen short of downright worshipping the very conception of beauty. I shall link back to Scott Adams when I can, for his views on this.
But that is where this thought train commenced its trip.
The sunset today did not feature a perfect circle of orange; nor an amber lining in purple; nor anything one would associate with such perfection. But it was a sunset nonetheless - the king did still retire for the day; the sea still opened up to its most faithful companion; the birds still took the sign to fly back home.
And these very routine, very ordinary, very matter-of-fact brush strokes must also suffice for the artist's eye. They don't owe us anything at all. Beauty must exist in the infiniteness, and the potential inherent in every single instance of every single thing. It is by virtue of their very existence, or the lack of it, and the place that holds in an endless opera of endless roles, that their beauty comes alive.
I am thus, in effect, just bored of the obsessively unilateral perception of beauty that the world seems to hold. Bored, to the point of taking up the cudgels for the countless other flavours to 'beauty', made even more beautiful, to me, by their quaint, calm, unaffected silence. Not that they need an advocate for their existence, but more to open up myself and my people to that which is scarcely seen, heard or felt.
When this sentiment had first come to me, all I could make out from the haze, was a rather odd sounding signboard saying "War against beauty!". That it was still rather dust laden from all the chaos all around, gave me some hope for further clarity to emerge, for confusion raises the chances of rising towards understanding, no?
The other day, the sign seemed to have morphed into "Affirmative Action for Ugliness". This seemed a bit more palatable, and perhaps closer to that which the elements wished for me to gauge.
And from there, we are gathered here today, as we round off another day in the office.
And where do I find myself today?
I know for sure, that this particular thread isn't over yet (when does one ever get 'over'?!). But the best I can put it just now would be...
Beauty is not the result of supernatural thought or effort... It is the thought and effort itself. Beauty does not confine itself to that which the senses perceive to be 'good', for words mean nothing in the endless cloud of consciousness (which incidentally hovers over a bottomless ocean of the unconscious)... Beauty is in the essential nature of everything. An artiste approaching perfection at his art, a crow picking away at a rat that was killed the previous night, a child realizing the rudimentary meanings of being, the 64.3% moon singing listlessly to an audience too caught up in dying...
Beauty, is a limitless force that weilds its power only with consent. It is far beyond, and far above anything one can grasp, for it is everything, and some may say, thus, nothing. A benevolent dictator it is, that charms us with its frills, not caring to ever revel in its glories... Glories that we are ill-equipped to even comprehend, let alone sing.
Beauty... is such a thingamajig... My words are too, too frail.
I, am tired.
(Speaking of which, you may want to figure what this is up to)
Digressing back to the point at hand.
I, am tired... of many things around me.
Actually I'm not really affected on those lines at this point, come to think of it. So yeah.. what were we talking about?
The world...
We have always found it most natural to appreciate that which is beautiful; pick the flowers most perfect... gorge on food that is most appealing to the little tastebuds (such poetry laden on a word named with such prose!)... appreciate the most picturesque of sunsets... you get the idea.
We have in fact not fallen short of downright worshipping the very conception of beauty. I shall link back to Scott Adams when I can, for his views on this.
But that is where this thought train commenced its trip.
The sunset today did not feature a perfect circle of orange; nor an amber lining in purple; nor anything one would associate with such perfection. But it was a sunset nonetheless - the king did still retire for the day; the sea still opened up to its most faithful companion; the birds still took the sign to fly back home.
And these very routine, very ordinary, very matter-of-fact brush strokes must also suffice for the artist's eye. They don't owe us anything at all. Beauty must exist in the infiniteness, and the potential inherent in every single instance of every single thing. It is by virtue of their very existence, or the lack of it, and the place that holds in an endless opera of endless roles, that their beauty comes alive.
I am thus, in effect, just bored of the obsessively unilateral perception of beauty that the world seems to hold. Bored, to the point of taking up the cudgels for the countless other flavours to 'beauty', made even more beautiful, to me, by their quaint, calm, unaffected silence. Not that they need an advocate for their existence, but more to open up myself and my people to that which is scarcely seen, heard or felt.
When this sentiment had first come to me, all I could make out from the haze, was a rather odd sounding signboard saying "War against beauty!". That it was still rather dust laden from all the chaos all around, gave me some hope for further clarity to emerge, for confusion raises the chances of rising towards understanding, no?
The other day, the sign seemed to have morphed into "Affirmative Action for Ugliness". This seemed a bit more palatable, and perhaps closer to that which the elements wished for me to gauge.
And from there, we are gathered here today, as we round off another day in the office.
And where do I find myself today?
I know for sure, that this particular thread isn't over yet (when does one ever get 'over'?!). But the best I can put it just now would be...
Beauty is not the result of supernatural thought or effort... It is the thought and effort itself. Beauty does not confine itself to that which the senses perceive to be 'good', for words mean nothing in the endless cloud of consciousness (which incidentally hovers over a bottomless ocean of the unconscious)... Beauty is in the essential nature of everything. An artiste approaching perfection at his art, a crow picking away at a rat that was killed the previous night, a child realizing the rudimentary meanings of being, the 64.3% moon singing listlessly to an audience too caught up in dying...
Beauty, is a limitless force that weilds its power only with consent. It is far beyond, and far above anything one can grasp, for it is everything, and some may say, thus, nothing. A benevolent dictator it is, that charms us with its frills, not caring to ever revel in its glories... Glories that we are ill-equipped to even comprehend, let alone sing.
Beauty... is such a thingamajig... My words are too, too frail.
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