In Beauty It Is Finished

I loved reading people’s comments on my Yorkshire Dale photos—“Beautiful!” “Gorgeous!” “Lovely.”  Testimonies as to how hungry we are for beauty in our lives. 

 

It is not incidental. It is central. 

 

When we settle for utility bereft of beauty, forced-air malls over open-air markets, hotel breakfasts of stale muffins and bad coffee in Styrofoam cups with views of the parking lot, we are diminished. 

 

First in the English countryside, now in the Tyrolean Alps, splendor is all around. The magnificence of the natural world, the care taken in architecture, the food carefully cooked and attractively presented— it makes a difference. Seeps into the soul and reminds us that we are made for beauty. If we can remember that, then it makes sense to preserve it, to cultivate it, to create it, to savor it— in the way we live, the way we love, the things we make, the things we cherish. 

 

The arts, of course, are part of the landscape, but more important is the sense of artistry in everything we do, everything we are. I’ve heard that the Balinese have no word for “art” and simply suggest that everything they do (a lot!) that we call “art” is simply doing things well, with care and attention. So here I am, with six others, about to begin our 10-day bike trip in the spirit of one verse in the Navaho Night Chant:

 

“May it be beautiful before me. 

May it be beautiful behind me. 

May it be beautiful below me. 

May it be beautiful above me.

 May it be beautiful all around me. 

In beauty it is finished. 

In beauty it is finished.”