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Continuing with the theme of music, pardon the pun, my husband is listening to flamenco guitar right now and I find it virtually impossible to concentrate. The plucking of the stings has a percussive quality that knocks my thoughts aside before they can make their way from my head to my fingers. It is impossible to complain about the virtuosity of the performer, but at this moment I am unable to appreciate this particular music that I would normally perceive to be beautiful.
This observation seems to support the idea that beauty can only be defined as a perception not as an object - that an object, whether physical or auditory or scented or flavored, does not contain anything that can be called beautiful - that maybe beauty can only be described as a feeling like joy, or sadness, or fear.
When we recognize that an object seems to give us feeling that we are in the presence of beauty I question what is it about our relationship with the object that causes this perception?
I have often observed that interactions with objects and situations we call beautiful seem to reveal basic truths to us, truths that we may otherwise ignore while we are going about the business of our days. Often when we experience beauty it is in a moment when we are attending to truths; that life is precious, unique, and ephemeral.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Do you here what I here?
Click on today's title to open a Washington Post article about a unique experiment in perception.
The friend who forwarded the article asked, "If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world, playing some of the finest music ever written, with one of the most beautiful instruments ever made.... How many other things are we missing?" I couldn't sum up my thoughts any better.
The friend who forwarded the article asked, "If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world, playing some of the finest music ever written, with one of the most beautiful instruments ever made.... How many other things are we missing?" I couldn't sum up my thoughts any better.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Waking up (to a truth)
This morning was one of those mornings where nothing seemed to be getting done. Even thinking felt like a laborious physical task. Then came the necessity of answering a friends email and an admission to that friend that I am a Terrible planner. It was embarrassing to admit and yet I found myself smiling and feeling able to face the rest of the day.
Truth may not save the world, but it sure brightened my day.
During my years working with people I have often noticed this phenomena. People are too often weighted down with feelings of inadequacy, fears of letting people down or being discovered to be less than society expects. In our discussions there would commonly come a time when they "owned up" to these feelings, the ones that really were holding them down. You could always tell when they had come to the deepest most ingenuous ones. A smile would begin to push its way up the corners of the mouth, the curve of the cheek. If they were asked to repeat it the expression would deepen and even approach a chuckle.
I hesitate to tell real stories, but there was one man who arrived for an appointment looking like he hadn't shaved or changed his clothes in days. He was a young man but he told me his story with a voice that sounded both weak and old. On Christmas morning his wife came downstairs and announced that she was leaving and taking his two girls with her. The poor man was dumbfounded. His days, all his thoughts, revolved around the girls. They were the reason for getting up in the morning and for just about everything he did.
He arrived in my office three weeks after this incident. He had not been to work since his family left on Christmas day. He had, in fact, done nothing. He had done nothing because he had no habit for taking care of his own needs. His image of the perfect family out there in front of him had been the biggest motivation in his life so that is where we focused, on the image, making it brighter and brighter until it was awash in light, and fading. He no longer saw it as real. He recognized that the family he thought existed was an image that he held like a picture, a representation of something, not the reality.
At that moment of recognition his eyes and his voice became clear and strong. He announced that his wife had no right to prevent him from seeing his girls and quickly pronounced his plans regarding access to them, returning to work, seeking out a lawyer, etc. As he spoke he inclined towards the door and soon left with a sense of being in control of his own life. The impression of such sudden and dramatic change was shocking to observe.
He had been a victim, but not of his wife's behavior. He had been a victim of his failure to acknowledge the difference between truth and desire. But the truth reopened the connection of his body to its spark of life.
Truth may not save the world, but it sure brightened my day.
During my years working with people I have often noticed this phenomena. People are too often weighted down with feelings of inadequacy, fears of letting people down or being discovered to be less than society expects. In our discussions there would commonly come a time when they "owned up" to these feelings, the ones that really were holding them down. You could always tell when they had come to the deepest most ingenuous ones. A smile would begin to push its way up the corners of the mouth, the curve of the cheek. If they were asked to repeat it the expression would deepen and even approach a chuckle.
I hesitate to tell real stories, but there was one man who arrived for an appointment looking like he hadn't shaved or changed his clothes in days. He was a young man but he told me his story with a voice that sounded both weak and old. On Christmas morning his wife came downstairs and announced that she was leaving and taking his two girls with her. The poor man was dumbfounded. His days, all his thoughts, revolved around the girls. They were the reason for getting up in the morning and for just about everything he did.
He arrived in my office three weeks after this incident. He had not been to work since his family left on Christmas day. He had, in fact, done nothing. He had done nothing because he had no habit for taking care of his own needs. His image of the perfect family out there in front of him had been the biggest motivation in his life so that is where we focused, on the image, making it brighter and brighter until it was awash in light, and fading. He no longer saw it as real. He recognized that the family he thought existed was an image that he held like a picture, a representation of something, not the reality.
At that moment of recognition his eyes and his voice became clear and strong. He announced that his wife had no right to prevent him from seeing his girls and quickly pronounced his plans regarding access to them, returning to work, seeking out a lawyer, etc. As he spoke he inclined towards the door and soon left with a sense of being in control of his own life. The impression of such sudden and dramatic change was shocking to observe.
He had been a victim, but not of his wife's behavior. He had been a victim of his failure to acknowledge the difference between truth and desire. But the truth reopened the connection of his body to its spark of life.
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