A Little Beauty Everyday
For the last several months vases of flowers have graced the table in our kitchen where we work every morning. Sometimes they are vases of wildflowers, sometimes bunches of local flowers from the small grocery store downtown, and still other times are bouquets my husband, Austin has picked up to surprise me. The flowers’ presence fills the room with a sense of beauty and calm, so much so that I’ve shifted from working at my desk to working at the kitchen table, if only to have the flowers within eyesight.
“Why do you love flowers?” Austin, asked me the other day, as I arranged yet another bouquet for the table.
I answered automatically, without much thought, “Because they’re pretty!”
After answering, however, I had to think that answer through more deeply. Surely it had to be more than just that I thought flowers were “pretty” — right? What was I? 8 years old? So I started to think through what it was about the beauty of flowers that entranced me so.
This wasn’t the first time that I found myself dwelling on the concept of beauty and it’s importance in my life. When I was in college I spent the better part of two years studying the concept of beauty in (primarily) Sufi theology. Sufism is a form of Islam that is deeply mystical in nature and is predicated on the imminence of God. It ended up being about a third of what at Marlboro College was known as my Plan of Concentration, and intensive 2 year thesis process culminating in an a defense before a committee of professors and outside examiners that all students must accomplish in order to graduate. In short, I read a lot of Sufi philosophy on the concept of beauty. During this time, I found myself intrigued by this conception of beauty, one that was both specific in what it is and vague on what it is not. Through this lens, beauty is that which draws one closer to God and is found in God. As a lifelong Christian, I found myself resonating with this same idea. It reminded me of a part of the Catholic Catechism: God created the world to show forth and communicate his glory. That his creatures should share in his truth, goodness, and beauty - this is the glory for which God created them. (No, I’m not Catholic. I’m an Episcopalian and huge theology nerd) The psalms themselves are full of praise for the beauty of God’s creation. And the heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork, proclaims Psalm 19:1. And while this Christian understanding of beauty points to the natural world as evidence of God’s presence, if God is the creator of all things, then there is no reason to think that the beauty of the natural world is the only kind of beauty that has it’s origin in the divine.
“Everything that is made beautiful and fair and lovely is made for the eye of one who sees.”
This is a thought that has struck my husband recently, too. In his blog post on beauty in the natural world, he, too, grapples with what beauty is. He talks about it being transcendent. It is something beyond our human understanding, something felt, something known, but never truly explained. Why is it that both he and honeybees marvel at the delicate nature of flowers? Beauty. It is something that is universally known, but we have no idea as to why. Moreover, he found himself reminded that beauty is a gift from God universally given for all creation to experience. As St. Augustine says, “Beauty is indeed a good gift of God; but that the good may not think it a great good, God dispenses it even to the wicked.” Beauty is a kind of grace, as like grace it is never something earned but always and freely given, in all its forms.
And, like grace, beauty isn’t just something we see and enjoy and move on from. Beauty is experiential, regardless of the form it takes. Whether it appears as music that breaks your heart, photography that awakens your creative spirit, or the simple view of a baby’s smile, beauty changes us. It warms our hearts and touches our souls. It inspires us, challenges us, reminds us. Recently Austin told me about a podcast in which the host talked about how the proximity of death to life is what makes life worth living. We both firmly rejected this interpretation. For me, it’s beauty that makes life worth living. Through the grace of beauty we see into the deeper beauty of God himself, and a promise of the world to come, one that is perfectly and only pure and beautiful.
There is no denying that the last year and a half have, at times, been bleak. As I reflect on the last year, it was encountering this bleakness that set me on my quest to appreciate beauty all the more. This beauty I sought took many forms - art, nature, faith, family, love - and each time I encounter beauty it changes me. In the beauty of art I discovered a new confidence, in nature a renewed sense of wonder. In faith I found healing and in family I found hope. And in the beauty of love, the greatest beauty of all, I found sheer, insurmountable joy.
The other evening I was at my parents’ house for dinner, and I noticed this bush of roses that had taken root within the old, unkempt lilac bush. The white garden roses caught the evening light within itself, and somehow took the original beauty of the lilacs and made it more so. This is the nature of beauty. It grows, changing that which is ugly around it to become beautiful as well and taking that which is already lovely and makes it more so. In this thought I think I have come to understand that concept in Sufism better, that beauty both draws us closer to God and is found in God.
As for my quick response that flowers are pretty? I realize that this is a perfect reason. Their beauty may be a simple, humble one, but they remind me of a deeper truth. Through beauty I find peace and am reminded of the constant presence of God, a presence that is constantly changing me, shaping me, and making me whole. So, I’ll keep them on my table and continue to fill my life with all the beauty I can find.
