Blog Dis
Truth and its beautiful brutality... Part 2
2024-09-05
I'm delighted that you've returned to the other half of this thread. And so, the second part of my digression continues the debate on the validity of truth vs beauty and whether or not it's wise to embrace one, while neglecting the other. I shall hang myself out further on this ledge of opinion, and wade deeper into these murky waters, completing my breast stroke with eyes closed, for the waters are dark and deep and crawling with creatures. You are welcome to jump in with me.
Beauty and truth are naturally perceived as separate entities, seemingly two disparate elements that cannot be reconciled. For in truth, lies the ugly and the unwanted, the brutality of evil and the eventuality of lost innocence. Whereas, beauty, the counterpart to truth, embodies the perfection of all things young and untouched, that have escaped being sullied by the eventuality of truth. It is a painful fact that in my attempt to differentiate between these two subjects, I find myself drawn nearer to their similarities.
Summer is regarded by many as the most beautiful period of time in the year. I often think otherwise as the dulling and annoying sounds of construction tear up the streets and highways to improve ugly roads with crisp, newly laid, paved road. The distraction of the endless construction rarely brings a smile to my face. Ask any small business operator trying to stay alive when the road to their door is closed off. Summer should be filled with the beauty of bronzed bodies and taught muscle and form, yet it is rife with the truth of imperfect bodies, some of whom parade around town without shirts, when perhaps they should cover up for the sake of others. But who am I to tell anyone that while their bodies may not be described as beautiful, it is nonetheless their truth and nothing but the truth?
The truth of the matter is that what begins as beauty often transforms into truth when you observe it for too long. Are you still swimming alongside me? I feel my arms are showing signs of fatigue and I can barely see the shore now. Seems the powerful undercurrent is pulling me deeper into these dark waters. Best thing is to ride it out, to give into the journey and let it take me where it wants to go.
"We shall some day catch an abstract truth by the tail, and then we shall have our religion and our immortality," said Henry (Brooks) Adams, an American historian who died in 1918.
The early 20th Century by all rights was an easier time than the 21st Century. The farther we move away from the past and cherish the future, the farther we take ourselves from the beauty of simplicity associated with uncomplicated living. Yet, truth is complicated. Beauty is skin deep. Truth is mathematics and music. Beauty is poetry and nature. Truth is change. Beauty is a photo that captures youth forever more. Truth is words and their formation into well-formed prose. Beauty is the ideal of setting out to write the all-great novel. Truth is the brutal knowledge that everything has already been written in some other shape or form.
One day when I'm old and grey and my eyes can barely see, I shall catch a tiger by its tail and pull its fury face close to mine, to ask with pleading eyes, "Can there be truth in beauty?" The tiger will open is very large jaws, displaying its menacing teeth, before it reveals its ravenous appetite. The tiger will say nothing that could possibly explain the value of truth vs beauty. The tiger will simply behave as it was pre-ordained to behave in the world of nature, to tear my flesh into bite-sized pieces as it devours me whole, devours the wholeness of my beautiful tasting flesh, behaving as every tiger should, like a predator of power, living truthfully with no regard for beauty.
Oh my word! These are surely dark and dangerous waters and tigers love to swim! But we've all got to go sometime, right? Ain't this the bloody truth!
Beauty and truth are naturally perceived as separate entities, seemingly two disparate elements that cannot be reconciled. For in truth, lies the ugly and the unwanted, the brutality of evil and the eventuality of lost innocence. Whereas, beauty, the counterpart to truth, embodies the perfection of all things young and untouched, that have escaped being sullied by the eventuality of truth. It is a painful fact that in my attempt to differentiate between these two subjects, I find myself drawn nearer to their similarities.
Summer is regarded by many as the most beautiful period of time in the year. I often think otherwise as the dulling and annoying sounds of construction tear up the streets and highways to improve ugly roads with crisp, newly laid, paved road. The distraction of the endless construction rarely brings a smile to my face. Ask any small business operator trying to stay alive when the road to their door is closed off. Summer should be filled with the beauty of bronzed bodies and taught muscle and form, yet it is rife with the truth of imperfect bodies, some of whom parade around town without shirts, when perhaps they should cover up for the sake of others. But who am I to tell anyone that while their bodies may not be described as beautiful, it is nonetheless their truth and nothing but the truth?
The truth of the matter is that what begins as beauty often transforms into truth when you observe it for too long. Are you still swimming alongside me? I feel my arms are showing signs of fatigue and I can barely see the shore now. Seems the powerful undercurrent is pulling me deeper into these dark waters. Best thing is to ride it out, to give into the journey and let it take me where it wants to go.
"We shall some day catch an abstract truth by the tail, and then we shall have our religion and our immortality," said Henry (Brooks) Adams, an American historian who died in 1918.
The early 20th Century by all rights was an easier time than the 21st Century. The farther we move away from the past and cherish the future, the farther we take ourselves from the beauty of simplicity associated with uncomplicated living. Yet, truth is complicated. Beauty is skin deep. Truth is mathematics and music. Beauty is poetry and nature. Truth is change. Beauty is a photo that captures youth forever more. Truth is words and their formation into well-formed prose. Beauty is the ideal of setting out to write the all-great novel. Truth is the brutal knowledge that everything has already been written in some other shape or form.
One day when I'm old and grey and my eyes can barely see, I shall catch a tiger by its tail and pull its fury face close to mine, to ask with pleading eyes, "Can there be truth in beauty?" The tiger will open is very large jaws, displaying its menacing teeth, before it reveals its ravenous appetite. The tiger will say nothing that could possibly explain the value of truth vs beauty. The tiger will simply behave as it was pre-ordained to behave in the world of nature, to tear my flesh into bite-sized pieces as it devours me whole, devours the wholeness of my beautiful tasting flesh, behaving as every tiger should, like a predator of power, living truthfully with no regard for beauty.
Oh my word! These are surely dark and dangerous waters and tigers love to swim! But we've all got to go sometime, right? Ain't this the bloody truth!
