a magpie tale of being knocked upside the head by beauty

And he, with many feelings, many thoughts,
Made up a meditative joy, and found
Religious meaning in the forms of Nature!
~Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Fears in Solitude

 

I can find beauty in the seediest parts of any city.  Beauty is easy to find if, if you believe as I do that it has many more layers than that which sits on the surface of a thing or a person.

But then there is the kind of beauty that transforms you, the kind the Romantics explored.  I’ve experienced this kind of transformative beauty a number of times in my life, and it’s always the product of me encountering some work of art or some aspect of the natural world.  I valued beauty even as a kid, and it’s probably why I found such power in studying Romantic literature in university.  When I found these poets writing of sublime experiences in encountering beauty, I got it, because I’d been there. 

I was about sixteen when I sat in an art history lesson and saw slides of Michelangelo’s Pieta.  It was the first seed of an idea that I’m now certain of: that great artists channel a source that moves beyond the confines of human understanding.  I experienced a similar conviction about witnessing the transcendent when I studied John Keats and his achievements during his short stay on this here planet. 

Encountering divine splashes in nature has had even more startling impact on my sensibilities.  A northern Ontario forest floor carpeted with trillium; the ancient rocks on the shore of the Manitoulin Island; great masses of bluebells covering the rolling, lusty landscape of mid-Wales; farm fields of yellow mustard radiating a colour you wouldn’t believe existed if you didn’t see it with your own eyes. 

The most arresting encounter with the sublime in nature was in a forest next to a monastery I visited in Finland over the Orthodox Easter weekend some years ago.  Saturday night church services ran all night, and most of the visitors to the retreat had attended.  I awoke with the sun, feeling some regret that I didn’t attend any of the services, feeling shy and out of place in my Presbyterian upbringing and largely secular sensibility.  When I walked outside Sunday morning I felt very alone – everything was closed up tight, everyone was asleep but me.  So I went for a walk.

I headed into the woods adjacent to the monastery/retreat compound.  Not far in, I was stopped by the sight ahead of me.  The sun was spilling its pale, shimmering ribbons through the dark contrast of the trees, landing in golds and pinks on the snowy forest floor.  The picture was so stunningly beautiful I cried, knowing for certain I was being presented with a divine gift.  I wondered for a moment if I’d found heaven. 

Perhaps some would say it’s simply a way of feeling, of exploring sensibility and one’s ability to pay attention to the experience of encountering magnificence.  I am not a religious person, though I have experienced transformative moments of beauty in churches.  I suppose I find more certainty in the tangible, finding the divine in great artistic accomplishments and the spontaneous magic in nature rather than through any strictures of organized worship or scientific rationalizations. 

For me, these spontaneous experiences and the subsequent emotion and inspiration that result are the most convincing evidence that we are living in a magical world.  Really, you couldn't convince me otherwise.

Beautiful thing number 22: Willam Wordsworth's Daffodils, read by Jeremy Irons.

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

~William Wordsworth

This is a response to 's latest Magpie Tales visual creative writing prompt.  Visit Magpie Tales to find other fine poets and writers responding to the same prompt.  Give it a try!Willow

Comments

[Selma]

I have often thought the same thing myself when examining works of art or listening to pieces of music - there is a divine component to them that is unmistakable. It is even there in science. A friend of mine teaches physics at university and I asked him about his string theory and all that and what it does for him. 'It brings me closer to God', he says. It blew my mind when he said that.

One of your best posts. Fantastic!

[Catalyst]

Oh, Jennifer, thank you for bringing your thoughts and for bringing this splendid poem read by a splendid actor. Thank you!

[Jennifer]

Yes, I believe that too Selma. Anyway, what is science without imagination?

[Jennifer]

Thank YOU Cat!

[Angie Muresan]

That is a beautiful poem read in such a serene voice. I felt as though I were floating on the breeze.
As you, I've felt heaven in the midst of nature.

[Stephanie]

One can't help but think of the Divine when in the presence of natural beauty.

[Eric S.]

A lovely poem yes, but more lovely is your thoughts on natures artistic wonder. I find myself lost in astonishment such sights. Natures canvas hold such varied visions splashed in amazing colors.

[Jennifer]

Old Bill was really good at it wasn't he? Thanks for visiting Angie.

[Jennifer]

Stephanie - AGREED.

[Jennifer]

Thank you Eric, and for stopping by. Nature is a wonder...

[Peter Goulding]

A salutory lesson to go around with your eyes and mind open. Often I find I'm not looking for beauty, yet it is there right in front of me. That Finland experience seems surreal.

[Susannah]

"The sun was spilling its pale, shimmering ribbons through the dark contrast of the trees, landing in golds and pinks on the snowy forest floor. The picture was so stunningly beautiful I cried, knowing for certain I was being presented with a divine gift."

Wow! so, so beautiful! Thanks to your delicious and eloquent words. . . I saw it too.

[Jennifer]

So true Pete - I tell writing students that all the time: Look at the world through a writer's eyes. Be a writer all the time.

[Jennifer]

Aw thanks Susannah - so glad I managed to share it.

[Lyn]

Beauty and the everlasting "eye of the beholder"...
"Encountering divine splashes in nature"..indeed! Thank you...

[willow]

Okay, I'm in heaven. Between your touching post and Iron's mesmerizing voice reading the Wordsworth, I am floating on a cloud.

I'm not a religious person either, but I am certainly a spiritual one. I look for devine gifts every day and find them.

[Jennifer]

Thank you!

[Jennifer]

I know you do Willow.

[Pat Morrison]

Beautiful stories....I like your blog header and was drawn in to read all about the daffodil and more. Excellent writing. I had forgotten thatWordsworth poem, glad you resurrected it...

[Jennifer]

Thank you Pat, I really appreciate you stopping by and leaving such a nice comment. Best motivation ever!

[Vicki Lane]

Your description of the moment in the woods is lovely!

Ramakrishna relates a similar transcendental experience on seeing a white crane flying against the backdrop of a purple storm cloud.

[Jennifer]

Thank you Vicki. I would like to read of that Ramakrishna story...

[joanny]

Jennifer:

I am lost in the magic of transcending thoughts -- having those "peak" experiences you know you have been touched by the Grace of God. A prayerful moment walking mediation call it what you will but it is seeing the 'Divine ' in all things that is your gift of beauty.

Beautiful,
Joanny

[Little hat]

Damn, my sound card isn't working. I went to Wordsworth as my first stop for this Magpie and then chose to go in the opposite direction. I couldn't compete. Your thoughts took me back to my first exposure to great art. Shakespeare's Hamlet and a brilliant teacher at high school and then later the sculptures of Henry Moore on my first trip overseas. Nature has this same power to awe me, most recently on a trip to north west australia where the form and colours of the rock formations were hypnotising.

[Jennifer]

Lovely of you to be lost Joanny. It sounds as if you know all about it.