Filed under: LOVE, Parents, Relationships, Single life, philosophy | Tags: beauty, boyfriend, character, colour, partner, philosophy, psychology, quirk, relationship
The best thing about my philosophy class is the opportunity to see things from other people’s points of view. There’s one guy in particular that fascinates me. He’s in his mid twenties, has a head of unruly dark hair, loves torn jeans and orange knitwear. He reads a lot and often quotes interesting and relevant material. A few weeks ago he said that while knowledge is about learning something new every day, wisdom is about letting something go. And last Thursday, as we discussed beauty, he made a really valid point:
Once we give something a name, we stop seeing it as beautiful. An example – a simple concrete block, to someone who had never seen one and had no idea what its function was, would see it as an object of interest and beauty. The clean lines, the rough material, the solid form. But when we see a concrete block, we know it’s a concrete block, and because it’s familiar we see past its beauty.
I think most people would agree that we forget to see the beauty that surrounds us. New belongings are a thrill to begin with, but the shine quickly fades and we lose sight of the qualities that attracted us to them in the first place. As far as I can tell, the same thing happens with relationships.
When you first meet someone you enjoy learning all about them. About their interests, their history, their quirks and character. You enjoy the attraction, the chemistry, the conversations. Over time, however, you can easily begin to see past their redeeming features, noticing instead the negative things you have learnt or recalling the not so wonderful experiences you have endured together. That person that once gave you butterflies slowly becomes the person who never takes the rubbish out, who is incapable of replacing the toilet roll, or who infuriates you with their inability to fold towels.
The Pirate and I, after months of single living, get on better than ever before. He’s stopped being the disappointing boyfriend, the unreliable chauffeur, the uninspiring confidante, and instead, he’s just become himself in my eyes. I can see him, unhindered by the expectations of love. He is who he is, and he’s wonderful. Now is probably the time to admit that there have been moments of romance since the breakup. They too are somehow more meaningful than ever before, possibly because the relationship we have now is open and honest in a way I couldn’t have previously imagined.
I think we’ve all had some experience of this. Moments when you realise that yes, your parents are human. That someone you’ve known your whole life is capable of things you never realised. That your partner or spouse is truly wonderful and incredibly beautiful, only you’re not always aware of it.
Ah, philosophy. Did I mention the guy in question is particularly cute? I think it’s the ripped jeans, and the fact that he’s not afraid of colour. And the wisdom, of course.
Open yourself up.
Filed under: philosophy | Tags: aesthetic, beauty, happiness, heart, help, insight, opinion, philosophy, potential
Thursday evening is often the highlight of my week. It’s Philosophy night, and each week proves to be more thought-provoking than the last. Yesterday the main topic of conversation was Beauty – absolute beauty, or beauty itself, as opposed to the fleeting beauty of physical things.
Our tutor put forward the proposition that beauty is everywhere, in everything, and eternal. He made the point that beauty is everywhere, but sometimes we don’t see it. He gave an example of a septic tank - not generally recognised as an item of beauty, but certainly something that might be beautiful if seen through, for example, the eyes of a microbiologist.
I’ve been thinking about beauty a lot today, and I’m finding it difficult to simply accept his propositions as facts. That’s the wonderful thing about philosophy – instead of learning things that are scientific or true, we’re encouraged to explore all the possibilities of those things that can’t be measured or tested.
Beauty IS everywhere, as it is something that exists inside us and is reflected in the things around us. Beauty affects us by invoking an emotional response, creating happiness and opening our hearts. Beauty IS eternal, it has always existed and always will. But septic tanks? Even to a microbiologist, isn’t a septic tank more admirable due to its functionality, or interesting because of it’s content, than it is beautiful?
An interesting comment was made last night – that by defining things, and giving them names, we make the things around us less beautiful. An example was a simple concrete block – because we all recognise it, understand its function, and can name it, we are distracted from its true form. We might consider it beautiful if it was something we had never seen before. If this is true, then surely a septic tank is even less beautiful to a microbiologist who has an in depth understanding of its workings?
Just because beauty itself is everywhere, does that neccesarily mean that it is in everything? I can think of reasons why even disgusting things are of value in certain situations, even how things that strike us as ugly can be aesthetically pleasing to others. But Beauty – that beauty that opens the heart – I can’t imagine that it is present in everything.
Even if that beauty IS present in everything I’m not sure that I want to be able to recognise it. To see beauty in roadkill as easily as I see beauty in a sunset, or hear beauty in chaos as naturally as I hear it in a symphony. Wouldn’t that detract from our experience of beauty?
As I sit here with my laptop on my knee the sun is streaming through the sitting room window. This room, rarely recognised as a beautiful place, is lit up, the wooden chair across from me glowing in the late afternoon light. As the sun sets later this evening the view from that window is truly beautiful, as every day slowly ends in a subtly different way. The stars I can see from here on a clear night and the silhouette of the trees on the other side of the car park make me pause for a moment, aware of that happiness within, feeling my heart open up to the world.
I think everything has the potential to be beautiful. I think we could all begin to recognise the beauty around is if we simply took the time to see our surroundings with new eyes. I think by recognising beauty in the world around us, we become more beautiful ourselves, as our hearts open and fill with happiness.
I’d love to hear your views and thought on this… any insight is appreciated!
The mirror in the bathroom of my parent’s house has ‘Hi Beautiful’ etched in soft seductive cursive on it’s top left-hand corner. It’s taller than any of us are, so when we stand in front of our reflections the words appear above our heads.
I’ve never questioned my beauty – I have days when I wish I were slimmer, or my skin was clearer, or I owned an entire new wardrobe, but I’ve never once doubted the fact that I’m attractive. My parents gave me two great gifts, and my self-confidence in one of them.
The other is a love of literature, of the written word, of the touch and feel and smell of books. A beautifully bound, perfectly weighted, sympathetically illustrated hardback book will have my hand reaching for my credit card and my heart lifting to the skies.
It’s rare to find a man who can interest me as much as a good novel.
