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Who are you? Who am I? | Week 42

October | Music and Art | Week 42 | 10/22/2023 
Talk about the place that beauty and expression have in your life

When I was 14 I stood at the gates of Buckingham Palace, flipped coins into the Trevi Fountain, and strolled through the Italian countryside among thousand year old grape vines. At 16 I walked the halls of the famous Neuschwanstein Castle in Germany, stood atop the great Mt. Pilatus in Switzerland and walked in silent observation at Dachau. I was naïve, unappreciative and mostly emotionless, somewhat to be expected from a child but inexcusable by my modern standards. I didn't have a conception of beauty because I didn't have a conception of life. I didn't understand, truly, deeply understand, the nature of the human experience, the long arc of history, or the struggle and strife of an individual or of our species. I'd memorized facts, aced tests, read books and recited great speeches. But I had no knowledge that was informed by experience. And I had no suffering that could only be ameliorated by beauty.

After I became incurably ill at 17, the color wheel of life transformed from monochromatic to trichromatic and my reality deepened. I understood suffering at the level of experience not at the level of anecdote. It turned out beauty was all around me. The smell of coffee in the air from the nearby Maxwell House, as I stood at the outdoor deck of the hospital. The occasional dolphins to be spotted in the St. John's River from my hospital bed. The cute kid being discharged with a balloon from Wolfson's, where I was staying. I'd begun to understand beauty because I understood suffering. I began to weep in private listening to music. I wept watching movies. I wept thinking of life. I wept thinking about the struggle of others. And suddenly the world unveiled. After a decade of fighting back death, depression and chronic pain, each moment becomes more beautiful than the last. Music, cinema, literature, art, dance, it now satiates a deep longing for beauty and creativity that sits intertwined with my soul. I marvel at the sounds of vocal geniuses. I'm elated by the beautiful portrayal of characters in movies. And I'm struck to stillness by architecture, nature, creation, and human achievement. 

At age 27, my friends and I walked slowly down the stone path leading up to the Great Buddha Hall at the Todaji Temple, deer all around us, the rain subtly and consistently falling. The smell of a deep green forest surrounding us and sound of the wind rustling through it was cinematic. The feeling of the fresh air in my diaphragm was mixed with extreme gratitude and excitement. As we entered the largest wooden structure on earth, I gazed up at the Great Buddha, imagining the ancient Japanese who labored over its construction. I contemplated their rationale for building such an homage. And I went over the tenets of the Buddhist Eightfold Path in my head. I hugged my friends, grinning from ear to ear and fought back tears of appreciation and gratefulness. All around me, the quiet whispers of school children making their way from station to station on their field trip, pointing up at various structures inside the Hall, respectful and playful. We eventually made our way to the outer rims of the temple, and walked the paths of the monks, observing the intricate and durable stone work of the various buildings used for prayer and congregation, occasionally hearing faint instruments and soft chanting. Beauty was so obvious to me in that moment it was almost palpable, as if I'd gained an additional sense beyond touch, taste, sound, sight and smell. It felt similar to the feelings I had looking out at the Grand Canyon, the Na Pali Coast and El Capitan. A similar feeling to hearing Andrea Bocelli, Lane 8 and Rufus Du Sol perform live. A similar feeling to seeing the poverty in Medellin, the beauty of Banff, and the awe of the Sydney Opera House. It was a similar feeling to hours spent listening to the angelic voices of women I once loved. Beauty is necessary, beauty is everywhere, and beauty is available, to those who seek it, who appreciate it, who long for it. It is the universal language and it captures the magnificence of life. It is everything. 


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