My Thoughts on Beauty

My dear readers,

It's been far too long, I know.
Life's been keeping me very busy - but I haven't forgotten you! Countless times I've sat down with the fervid resolve to write, only for my inspirations to escape me, intimidated by the blank white page. 
But though I am to some extent guilty of desertion, I cannot be accused of laziness, for my pen (or I should say keyboard) has been far from idle. I've been applying for scholarships, dabbling in the art of poetry writing, and have the makings of a short story.
Believe me, it was painful trying to choose only ONE topic for this post! I moved through four very diverse drafts before settling on this one (the equivalent to scribbling ideas down and accumulating a mountain of crumpled papers in the wastebasket!).

This post will also serve as a kind of farewell - not forever I trust, but only in expectation of what the near future holds! 
In a few months time I will be leaving on an adventure - stepping out into the grand wide world!
Am I terrified? Yes! But ready and oh so excited!

~

In the Renwick Gallery in Washington, DC, there stands a clock draped in a sheet. Unobtrusive, yet awkwardly out of place, surrounded by noble sculptures and colourful paintings, its something you'd expect to find covered in dust and cobwebs in your grandparent's attic, not displayed in the centre of an art gallery.
"I guess they haven't removed the sheet yet. That's embarrassing." Was one man's reaction. "Oh I see, this is some experimental art project where we're all supposed to pretend this makes sense. Whatever." 
In one word: unimpressed.
But upon closer inspection this hokey "art experiment" is revealed to be the creation of the highest imagination and craftsmanship. It is in fact a single, hand-carved piece of mahogany. The polished clock, the white sheet, the cinched rope - everything is wood!  

As the same observer remarked, there was great risk involved in such a carving for the artist, "created a masterpiece that would likely go unnoticed."

What is beauty?

It's a question that has perplexed every generation and every age. Movies and magazines endeavor - and fail - to answer it; Aristotle and Socrates debated greatly on the subject.
But whether we disagree that "beauty is above the useful" or that something's "usefulness" defines its beauty, or whether we argue that beauty can be found through things or whether the things themselves can be beautiful, I think we can all agree that beauty is and that it is an important if not essential part of life - it is certainly one of the most misconstrued and warped, let alone misunderstood aspects of humanity. 
We often say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and though this may be true in some respects, it doesn't account for true beauty which encompasses far more than we can behold, awes us with its mystery, and demands the use of every sense. 
What about the things we deem "beautiful" without seeing?
Crystal caverns deep within the earth, never to be discovered, never to see the light of day? What about the flower that blooms in a sequestered vale? Is it any the less beautiful because it's not destined to be smelt or admired by man? 

And music. We cannot see it, but we can hear it. The heavenly myriad of the orchestra, the jazzy rhythm of the band, the vibrato of a powerful voice - all are capable of stirring the soul! Our tastes in music may differ, but we all know what it means to be moved by it. We come away from a concert with flushed cheeks and bated breath, or from a sojourn with our songs and headphones with our hearts filled, a dance in our step... maybe even tears in our eyes, and pronounce what we hear as beautiful. 

Beauty is embedded in the very foundations of the earth, and demands, not only the use of our emotions, but of our intellect.
When speaking of science and mathematical formulas Aristotle said, "the chief forms of beauty are order and symmetry and definiteness."and Marie Curie stated that, "a scientist in his laboratory is not only a technician: he is also a child placed before natural phenomena which impress him like a fairy tale." 
The structure and poetry of language, whether in the written or spoken word can also be included in that "beauty of order," for its grammatical rules, and symmetric shapes and sounds give voice to beautiful thought.  
And just as poetry and literature can be a dazzling domain of knowledge and adventure for those who choose to enter, true beauty is replete with realms of unexplored depth.
Take for example a garden. Its beauty is evident from its parameters, but its purpose is only fulfilled once we walk through it and smell the fresh, earthy perfume, touch the fragile petals, or rest in the dancing shade of its trees.

The great minds of ancient Greece discussed these things on a philosophical level and with a certain professional aloofness, but the overarching question of beauty impels, even haunts the very hearts of women. Aristotle wanted to find the answer, but when a woman asks or hears: What is beauty? she want to be the answer.
At its root this is a natural desire created by God, although our estrangement from him through sin can warp it into selfish ambition and as a weapon used by the world for our demise. But the universal truth remains: God has endowed Woman to be his special vessel of beauty.

Shakespeare penned:

From women’s eyes this doctrine I derive:
They are the ground, the books, the academes,
From whence doth spring the true Promethean fire...
For where is any author in the world
Teaches such beauty as a woman’s eye?"
(Love's Labour Lost)

And the poet, William Blake, spoke reverently of the woman's body as "too much of eternity for the eyes of man."

With this passionate beauty comes the desire to be acknowledged, known and valued - all of humanity, men and women alike share this desire, yet just as with beauty, our concept of "being known" has become distorted...
We crave beauty. To be it. To see it. To have it. But we look in the wrong places: in the luring song of the Sirens, the flashing lights, the slick and the sensual, the struggle against time - in short, the places the world tells us to look. But these things are fickle and only skin deep, poor substitutes for true beauty. 
Yet even the purest human creation and the most breathtaking view of nature will fall short of our lofty, longing expectations.

“The books or the music in which we thought the beauty was located will betray us if we trust in them; it was not in them, it only came through them,and what came through them was longing. These things—the beauty, the memory of our own past—are good images of what we really desire; but if they are mistaken for the thing itself they turn into dumb idols,breaking the hearts of their worshipers" (The Weight of Glory, C. S. Lewis).

I think we often overlook the sheer beauty of God. 
Almighty, Everlasting, Provider, Good Shepherd - these are words and names we associate with Him. 
But beautiful?

"Over the heads of the living creatures there was the likeness of an expanse, shining like awe-inspiring crystal, spread out above their heads. And under the expanse their wings were stretched out straight, one toward another... And when they went, I heard the sound of their wings like the sound of many waters, like the sound of the Almighty, a sound of tumult like the sound of an army... there was the likeness of a throne, in appearance like sapphire ... I saw as it were the appearance of fire, and there was brightness around him. Like the appearance of the bow that is in the cloud on the day of rain, so was the appearance of the brightness all around. Such was the appearance of the likeness of the glory of the Lord. And when I saw it, I fell on my face, and I heard the voice of one speaking" (Ezekiel 1:22-28).

In order to describe his vision, Ezekiel repeatedly uses the words "likeness" and "appearance," as if he is wracking his finite mind for words to express the overwhelming glory of God in the heavenly realms. Ezekiel's efforts and descriptions are incredibly hard for our imaginations to grasp, but still they are something to ponder... Like the sound of rushing waters or a great army, sapphire, fire, brightness like a rainbow...

Truly, the definition of beauty can be nothing short of God. 

Mankind's deep desire to be known is an echo of the God who says, "you will seek me and find me, when you seek me with all your heart" (Jeremiah 29:13). He has revealed himself in Christ who conquered sin on our behalf - the same sin that warped beauty and desire - but still we must seek him in order to know him. 

True beauty must be sought. It is not there for anyone's taking, nor is it easy to grasp. Hidden and precious, it takes, above all else, a quiet soul to appreciate. So I adjure you - myself just as much as you - to reflect and allow yourself the time to behold true beauty. 

May God open our hearts to his unveiling.

A soul at rest in Christ is a beautiful thing. Gentle, not striving, yet breathtaking and full of strength. An epic on the grandest scale! Yes, there is risk involved, for the majority of the world will not recognize or acknowledge such beauty, but it is a masterpiece of greater, eternal value. 
Know that you are a priceless work of art and have beauty to unveil... just like the clock standing patiently and unobtrusively in the gallery. 

I can imagine the clock personified: Aware of its maker's intent and it's own purpose, it aches to reveal its beauty and mystery, but it is content to wait to be discovered by those who are worthy of its artistry. 

"It is the glory of God to conceal a matter; to search out a matter is the glory of kings" Proverbs 25:2.

Resources:

Rodgers, Joshua. Where Have All the Beautiful Women Gone? http://www.boundless.org/relationships/2015/where-have-all-the-beautiful-women-gone?utm_source=fb_focus&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=blog_beautifulwomengone_apr_12

Palmarium Magazine. Aristotle and Socrates on Beauty. http://www.palmarium-magazine.com/w1-aristotleandsocratesonbeauty.html

Eldredge, John and Stasi. Captivating. 2005. Print.

The "Alien Invasion" of 1938

"They're bombing New Jersey!" declared a frightened Bronx citizen to a passing Patrolman.
"How do you know?"  Was the incredulous response.
"I heard it on the radio!" 

This is the true story of how an American radio drama ignited doomful terror of an alien invasion in the hearts of thousands of listeners.
Its been dubbed the "Panic Broadcast" - "the greatest invasion that never happened."

~*~

1938 was a year of tension and tribulation.
The Great Depression persisted to hold America in its iron grip, and Nazis Germany had "annexed" Austria, continuing to grow in power and hostility. Hitler's obdurate speeches, given in a state of fanaticism, and the realities of the economy were heard not just as distant threats in the papers, but as undeniable events welcomed over the airwaves by American (and Canadian) citizens into the intimacy of their family circles and homes. News bulletins were daily increasing, interrupting the soothing rhythm of the radio programs. 
Radios were a sensational pieces of entertainment and information. Despite the United State's economic low, its been calculated that 80% of American's owned a radio! People were finding it extremely difficult to buy the necessities of life. They were searching for work and pawning off valuables, and yet they zealously treasured their radios.

In Germany, Hitler had recognized the potential - the controlling power - that this machine could have over his people, and was manipulating it for his propaganda purposes.

 

In New York, The Mercury Theatre on the Air was preparing something special for their eager listeners under the astute direction of one of its founders, Orson Welles, the twenty-three year old "Broadway theatrical prodigy."

The Theatre's radio productions had thus far been one hour shows based on popular literature, including Treasure Island, A Tale of Two Cities, and Around the World in Eighty Days. This latest one - to be aired October 30, the eve of Halloween - was to be no different. But as the writers and directors prepared the script, some argued that it would fail to capture the audience's attention. That it was boring.
So they brainstormed some more, and it was in the frantic last few days before the deadline, that Welles suggested that it be performed as a series of news bulletins, recounted seemingly from the eyewitness accounts of journalists and reporters.

The story was based off of H. G. Wells' 1897 novel, The World of the Worlds, about a Martian invasion of England. 
They had Americanized the setting and liberally altered the characters and conversations, but the pith of the story was left untouched.
As the theatre group went live on air, the announcer introduced the story, obviously stating that the show was a drama, and then Welles himself commenced the story with a narration. Then...

"Ladies and gentlemen, we interrupt our program of dance music to bring you a special bulletin from the Intercontinental Radio News... Professor Farrell of the Mount Jennings Observatory, Chicago, Illinois, reports observing several explosions of incandescent gas, occurring at regular intervals on the planet Mars."

An interview with another Professor about these abnormal occurrences further interrupts the music, and a news bulletin takes the listeners to the scene of a strange landing. A place which the script writers chose at random on a map of the U.S.

"We are bringing you an eyewitness account of what's happening on the Wilmuth farm, Grovers Mill, New Jersey. Ladies and gentlemen, this is the most terrifying thing I have ever witnessed! Something wriggling out of the shadow like a gray snake. Now it's another one, and another. They look like tentacles to me."

To put it simply, the War of the World's was a genius radio production with exceptional acting and directing.
The aliens begin their attack...

"Now the whole fields on fire - the woods, the barns, the - the gas tanks of the automobiles. It's spreading everywhere. Its coming this way now, about twenty yards to my right - " 

And just like that, the mic went dead. All you could hear was static.This was a brilliantly improvised moment! Welles shot his hands up in the air like a conductor, and the actors and orchestra went silent.

No one in the recording studio knew the affect they were having on their fellow countrymen.
Its interesting how the human mind works. People heard that aliens were attacking with poison gas, so they saw and smelt gas. The aliens were beginning to bomb the area surrounding Grover's Mill, so they heard and saw bombings, no matter how far away they lived from the supposed catastrophe. 
Fear is an irrational thing - but it also reveals truth about the times, and the hearts of individuals. Roosevelt understood this when he spoke his famous words in his inaugural address in 1933 - the very doldrums of the Depressions.

"Let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself... nameless, unreasoning, unjustifiable terror which paralyzes needed effort to convert retreat into advance."

Many people hadn't heard the drama's announcer introduce the theatrical nature of the story, the majority has been listening to another station featuring a ventriloquist and his puppet Charlie McCarthy, and after some dial twisting during a musical interlude (much like channel surfing during advertisements), had stumbled upon a "news flash" informing them - it seemed in all sincerity - of a martian landing and attack. They missed the introduction, or they dismissed the important opening words in light of the realistic quality of the play, and by the time Welles paused for the interlude and reintroduction of the performance, people were fleeing for their lives!

Between 8:30 and 10:00 pm on the night of the broadcast, a Jersey Police log recorded "at least 50 calls...persons inquiring as to meteors, number of person's dead, gas attacks, militia being called..."
On the morning following the broadcast, the Trenton Times were overflowing with accounts of hysteria. There were (tragically) reports of suicide, nurses were seen praying in the streets, "one Hamilton Township woman vowed she had stuffed all the doors and windows with paper and wet rags but that the fumes were already seeping into her living room," whole families packed up their precious belongings and drove into the countryside or hid in their cellars, and ironically, a town in Washington State suffered from a power outage on the same night, causing everyone to believe it was a result of the alien's assault.

"The panic reached its peak in the metropolitan New York section. Unaware of the fiction of what they had heard, thousands rushed into the streets and parks, spreading their infectious alarm as they milled around, waiting for destruction to overtake them."

We learn about these seemingly idiotic responses and laugh at the people's naivety, but I doubt whether we would have been laughing in 1938.
The broadcast demonstrated the power of radio and propaganda. Journalist Dorothy Thompson states it well:

"Hitler managed to scare all Europe to its knees a month ago, but at least he had an army and an air force to back up his shrieking words... Mr. Welles scared thousands into demoralization with nothing at all..." 

The following cartoon sums it up perfectly! 

With the conclusion of their live production, Houseman, one of the theatre's founding members says, "the following hours were a nightmare." Swarmed by police and the press, an investigation was put in place. Though Welles was sorry for the damage to the morale and livelihood of his fellow Americans he couldn't help but be pleased with his success. His radio show had made front page news all over the country (and beyond)!

The War of the World's broadcast aired over seventy years ago to listeners of a very different generation, but it's intriguing historical events like this one that remind me of our common humanity, and, unfortunately, our tendency to fear first and think after. We still listen and watch world events with trepidation, and wonder diffidently what the future may hold. But we don't have to live in fear, for we are not alone; we have a conqueror in Christ! "In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world" (John 16:33).

I highly suggest listening to the original broadcast! I've included a link to it here!

Resources:

American Experience - War of the World's: http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/americanexperience/films/worlds/player/

The War of the World's script: http://www.sacred-texts.com/ufo/mars/wow.htm

Trenton Times newspaper articles: http://www.war-ofthe-worlds.co.uk/documents.htm#orson

Franklin Roosevelt's speech: http://historymatters.gmu.edu/d/5057/

My Thoughts on THE BOOK THIEF

I don't often write reviews about the books I read because my "writing time" is filled with blogging, poetry, or short story writing, and I prefer to share my thoughts in person (my family can attest to that!). But there was something about this book that gave my hand that irresistible "itch" to write. 
So I did.

This is a beautiful book...
Not only do the characters and setting exude a "realness," but the sentences and words themselves breath with life.

"She ran the back of her hand along the first shelf, listening to the shuffle of her fingernails gliding across the spinal cord of each book. It sounded like an instrument, or the notes of running feet. She used both hands. She raced them. One shelf against the other. And she laughed. Her voice sprawled out, high in her throat, and when she eventually stopped and stood in the middle of the room, she spent many minutes looking from the shelves to her finger and back again.
How many books had she touched?
How many had she felt?" (pg 135)

Its rather paradoxical then, that such beauty and depth can also be home to such foulness.
Swear words.
There were dozens of them - thus only the four stars.
But isn't that one of the themes this book reveals concerning humanity? The question: how can the same thing be "so ugly and so glorious?" (pg 150)

I have read many books dealing with these devastating times, but none have moved me, or narrowed the gap between history and reality for me, like this one. I was overcome with sorrow for the Liesel's, Max's, Han's, and Rudy's of the Second World War, and will not deny that I shed a few tears after the story was concluded and I had time to sift through my swirling thoughts and impressions. And yet, I've received much hope from this fictional account of suffering and death. For buried within the dark, lonely basements, boxing matches with the Fuehrer, bombings, and book burnings, are the accordionist's with gentle, silver eyes, "bread givers," thirteen presents for a dying friend, library havens, and snowmen -

"CHRISTMAS GREETINGS FROM MAX VANDENBURG: Often I wish this would all be over, Liesel, but then somehow you do something like walk down the basement steps with a snowman in your hands." (pg 313)

The Book Thief has left me with a lot to ponder and discuss (it is hard to put my thoughts into words), but there is one sentiment that rises again and again in my reflections: radiant hope and beauty come from ashes, and not simply because of the endurance of the human spirit, but because of the God who created that spirit, and gives purpose to life.

Have you read The Book Thief (or even just watched the movie)? What are your thoughts and impressions? Please share below!