Today, as I sat beneath a stand of palm trees blowing in the
strong sea breeze, I saw beauty. First, a completely bald woman walked past me.
She was bald like an egg…completely. Her head was tanned and her face was
aged, but she had a very nice demeanor; she seemed fit, which had me wondering
why she was bald. If she had stopped to talk to me, I would have told her it
was a good look for her, although I’m thinking that might be sort of
condescending or something. I was very pleased for her that she did not look
sickly, like I would expect of a completely bald woman. I was glad she did not
have a wig; maybe she realized this was a good look for her.
I was thinking about the bald woman as I looked out on the
sea, and an ugly couple walked by. They were like two trolls. She was a lumpy, sallow woman, squeezed in a dress that was too small. The man was short, squat,
wearing a buttoned-down checkered shirt and shiny nylon basketball shorts, with
dark shoes. It’s a good thing there really aren’t fashion police—I shudder at
their fines. The couple walked slowly, chatting to themselves as they took in
the gorgeous scene. Believe me, it was just an amazing day by the water today.
Their mutual regard for each other was evident from the touching and eye
contact. These were no newlyweds, but I like to think they were much in love,
as they walked along the docks. It struck me—these two ugly people were the
most beautiful couple I’d seen all day.
I smiled as I realized this. Then I started to think other
thoughts: Truth, Beauty, Love…these things that people have contemplated so much.
Are they eternal? Are they constants? Are they objective? I have recently read
that beauty can be objectively measured and scientists have catalogued the
various facial ratios, and can measure the symmetry in a person’s face and
score them for beauty. How would these two trolls in love score? I’m betting
they would be on the Ewww-end of the scale, and yet I thought they were
beautiful. I must be wrong.
Truth, ah Truth with a capital “T”. Is it objective? Writ
small, of course, Truth is easier to handle. When the chicken crosses the road,
there is a road, a chicken and a crossing…voila! But more complex things have
their own Truth, and one must examine various perspectives. Truth, then,
becomes a slippery thing—something that needs some thought before a declaration
is made. Is Truth objective? Can there be more than one Truth? Can they
conflict with one another? I don’t think I am smart enough to know the answers.
Love. Love has always given me trouble. Ask someone to
define love and there is confusion and consternation, yet most people can point
out love when they see it. Hmmmm, something ill-defined, but readily
identifiable? That just reeks of ambiguity to me, and ambiguity bugs me
mightily, like sand in my swim trunks. There’s a passage from the Bible, of all
places, that starts with “Love is…” Sure there are probably many like that, but
I’m thinking of the passage that is read at many, many weddings, “…love is
patient, love is kind…” blah, blah, blah. It tells me many of the ingredients for love, but the
recipe seems a little scant on detail. If you baked that recipe, you might get
a cake, or a muffin, or an iguana sandwich. Is love constant? Almost certainly
not; I don’t even think I need to go into it. Is love eternal? Oh, hell no. Is
love objective? I’m going to go out on a limb and say no. I have no fantastic
argument, but anything that is so slippery to define almost has to be
subjective.
So, in a world where Truth and Beauty and Love are
inconstant, and fleeting and subjective, what is there to hold onto? Well, the
beautiful moments, the flashes of truth and the magical nuggets of love. Sure,
they may have a beginning and an end, but they do exist. Perhaps like life, I
shouldn’t fret about the end of them, but revel in the here and now. To seek
them out like sunsets, marking them, and be thankful.
