Re: MD Notes on Beauty, Art and DQ

From: Platt Holden (pholden@sc.rr.com)
Date: Sat Jun 26 2004 - 13:09:42 BST

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    More notes on Beauty, Art and DQ:

    Beauty is a fact, a fundamentally reality.

    Beauty is culturally universal,. a unique human characteristic that arose
    with self-consciousness.

    Beauty creates a holy hush, a moment where you hardly dare breath, a
    moment of reverence to mysterious, majestic wonder.

    A tuning fork within us hums when we encounter something beautiful.

    In the presence of great beauty, one feels fully present in the now
    moment.

    When something works well it has a rightness about it that we call beauty.

    The present moment is our ocean which, at best, is beauty all around.

    The pleasure of beauty is a reward that the brain is designed to give
    itself for the accomplishment of certain creative tasks.

    Science chooses the beautiful theory because beauty is the way the world
    works.

    The only means we have for recognizing the difference between creative
    evolution and its destructive parodies is the sense of beauty.

    Reason has it limits. It cannot tell the difference between a finger
    painting and a Rembrandt.

    We reserve the word beautiful for that which pleases us to the highest
    degree and most exceptionally.

    Most other goods like food drink health and wealth which pleases us please
    us only on being possessed. They please us when they satisfy our desire to
    have them, not just contemplate them. In contrast, we may be quite content
    simply to contemplate or behold and object of beauty. If in addition we
    desire to possess it, we do not regard it as beautiful because of that
    fact.

    The body dies; the body's beauty lives. -Wallace Stevens

    Do not stand at my grave and wee; I am not there, I do not sleep.
    I am a thousand winds that blow; I am the diamond glints on snow.
    I am the sunlight on ripened grain; I am the gentle autumn's rain.
    When you awake in morning's hush, I am the swift uplifting rush
    Of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft star that shines at night.
    Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there.

    Best,
    Platt

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