Beauty—go after it
Oct 9, 2011
‘A man should hear a little music, read a little poetry and see a fine picture every day of his life, in order that worldly cares may not obliterate the sense of the beautiful which God has implanted in the human soul.’
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Jeannie and I recently returned from a trip to southern Italy...the Amalfi coast and Sicily. Several had told us before we left that the Amalfi coast is one of, if not the, most beautiful places on earth. They were right. I have been sorting through almost 2400 photos I took on the trip posting some on Facebook, printing others for a photo album, transferring the best of the best to canvas. I took pictures of the cities and country sides, buildings, flowers, ironwork (lamp-posts, gates, etc), doors, statues, paintings and mosaics, and more. Photography as a pastime is redemptive for me. I relish capturing a moment---the personality of one of my grandchildren, a landscape or the handiwork of an architect, sculpture or painter. Beauty---in its many forms---moves me; it impresses
view of Capri from Anna Capri
me. It lifts me up. Reading is also redemptive. Writers take me places I have never been...places in the world---be that countries, cities or landscapes. They also take me places in my own mind and soul. Wordsmiths like Barbara Brown Taylor or Richard Rohr shed light on my path...better said, they shed light on THE path. In turn, I enjoy sharing my photos and my truth that I know for the moment. It helps me to balance the meanness and evil I also see around me.
I am thinking today of the woman I walked by a few days ago on a street in Sorrento, Italy. I was rushing by to a 'farmacia' or pharmacy to find Jeannie some nausea medicine. This tiny woman was sitting on the sidewalk, her back against the wall with a baby cradled in her arms. She was begging. As I glanced her way she looked up. I was taken back to see the she had no nose or ear on the side of her head visible within the hijab she wore. I was so shocked by her mutilation that I quickly turned away. I had not too long before read a story about these women who were mutilated by their husbands or the Taliban for trying to flee or improve upon the extreme abuses women suffer. But I had never met such a woman with my own eyes. I could see that she had been an attractive, beautiful woman. I began making excuses for myself rushing past but none of them worked, let alone offered her any compassion. As I slowed down still asking myself
Faraglioni of the isle of Capri
"what can you do? You're in a foreign country. How could you begin to help? to alleviate her situation in the least”. I turned around feeling the least I could do was drop some of the euros in my pocket into her hand. I crossed the street and went back. That experience was much more for me than it was for her.
Maybe it's the life I've experience as a social worker, after all, we have been described as the 'bleeding hearts' of our society. Or, just maybe it is that I see things, or better said, feel things, that others often don't. My career has exposed me to scores of foster children abused by their parents, to pregnant women in the confusion of what to do about an unplanned pregnancy. In the early days of the AIDS epidemic, I worked with gay men living—and dying with HIV. As a therapist, I’ve seen marital battlefields that often leave both combatants scared for life and to adult children of either alcoholics or angry parent(s) that struggle and long as adults for safe places in this world. My heart did and does still bleed for all these people. I am overwhelmed at times with the evil and darkness that I see...so much so that it is the pursuit of beauty and truth that is a balm for the wounds of my own soul.
To bring it even closer to home, I have learned that the evil not only resides 'out there' but also within me. I, like all of us, struggle with seeking the light rather than dancing in the shadows of my own being. Some days are better than others. But some days the darkness can role in like a thick fog. When I can, I listen to music---all kinds, I let my screen saver scroll through thousands of photos of beautiful family, friends and places, or I go to one of my journals where I have recorded pieces of the truth I've stumbled across on my journey. And, like I said, the beauty and truth lift me up.
It was at St. Meinrad abbey many years ago when I ran across Reinhold Niebuhr's serenity prayer. I have prompted many others to use the lines of this great prayer for meditation and contemplation. It was the line "to take this world, just as Jesus did, as it is, not how I want it to be" that resonates in my mind right now as I write. Taking this world means the whole of it, the darkness and the light, the evil along with the beauty and truth. It is even more shocking when it is the darkness that leads me to the light. A fairly frequent occurrence it seems. Jesus said that ALL is being redeemed—yet I struggle to believe in a truth as wonderful as this.
Some have said that I have a good eye with the camera. It is ‘the eye’, the camera is just a medium. I am grateful for the ability to see the beauty of this world. Maybe I see the beauty because it stands out against the ugly, the evil. Whatever it is, life is a strange mix. I don't need to go looking for the evil or meanness, it plentiful enough. I just need to keep an eye open for the other...and I, we, are all surrounded by it.
What a paradox. One that, I for one, am very grateful for.