Shrouded Mountain Morning
Let the beauty we love be what we do. There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground. Rumi
In a sense, all the contemporary crises can be reduced to a crisis about the nature of beauty. … When we address difficulty in terms of the call to beauty, new invitations come alive. Perhaps for the first time, we gain a clear view of how much ugliness we endure and allow. … Much of the stress and emptiness that haunts us can be traced back to our lack of attention to beauty. Internally, the mind becomes coarse and dull if it remains unvisited by images and thoughts which hold the radiance of beauty. … the Beautiful offers us an invitation to order, coherence and unity. John O’Donohue (Beauty: The Invisible Embrace)
This blog morning finds my eyes kissing the beauty of wet ground, mountain fog, and lichen robust with moisture. Thankful for the blessed rain that fell much of the day yesterday, as my ears embraced the beauty of abundant drops falling on the roof.
In the early dawn I resist flipping the light switch and settle into this writing spot gazing toward the shrouded peak. My familiar friend is behind a foggy veil. Beauty to behold. Stress-dissolving, heart opening, pure, radiant Beauty.
Beauty calls too in the birdsong as the woods slowly waken, basking not in morning rays of sunlight, but in the infrequent moisture of our arid climate.
I wonder what other beauty is stirring unseen beneath the ground, and I’m drawn to pause the pen and venture out to walk in the woods. To feel what I see. As I prepare to head out, The Ink calls me back. I jot a few notes but strongly feel the call to be in the woods. Surely a feast is waiting.
Indeed, the woods are rich with beauty for all the senses. Plump lichen invite a gentle touch. The aroma of woodland moisture abounds, and I experience subtle aromatic differences between the pines I approach and sniff. Moisture softened earth beneath my feet as I feel my bare skin soak in the dampness. A doe rests peacefully under a pine as three friends wander nearby. I stop. We observe each other for a time. Perhaps we notice the beauty in one another. I continue to saunter about savoring the bountiful feast of Beauty.
Returning to the pen, The Ink, my notes remind me about the absence of beauty and our mistaking glamour for Beauty. I think of the absence of beauty in our political discourse, wondering how we might call for our leaders to bring beauty into that discourse. If, as O’Donohue suggests, the Beautiful offers an invitation to order, coherence, and unity, then perhaps it’s time for us to expect and insist that they do so. I notice where glamour is confused with beauty and the harm that follows in its many extractive forms. Abuse of Life, both human and not.
How might we call Beauty forth into the hearts and minds of those who do not yet know its power?
And how do we nurture those who do know? Those who listen to the beauty in Nature and in Life as they engage in their unique ways of kissing the ground. For example, farmers, ranchers, gardeners who are building soil, regenerating earth. Perhaps if we open more deeply to Nature’s innate wisdom and beauty, we will recognize the power of the dollars we spend on food and ‘vote’ for the regenerators rather than the corporate conglomerates that confuse the glamour of more money with the beauty of healthy soil and the food it produces.
We experience Beauty beyond the five senses as well. Beauty’s vibrance flows in the synchronicities of events flowing with ease. A thought about someone and the ding from their incoming text a short time later. A ‘chance’ encounter with someone creating a new, beautiful regenerative initiative. A community of friends coming together with ease to meet the needs of another.
Beauty abounds when we call it forth, observe, and serve from that place. Beauty answers our call.
Lichen Come to Life Out the Kitchen Window