The Necessity of Beauty

Every now and then I'm struck with the overwhelming feeling that everything is going to be alright. It's an uplifting, I believe quite spiritual, experience that leaves me with a deep sense of connection to everything. Why it should strike me now, generally - I'm disturbingly busy trying to balance the (all self-inflicted!) demands of work, prospective work, study and life - and why, on Sunday afternoon in particular, which I usually find a very unsettling time, I'm not sure, but it's a welcome feeling indeed, and very calming.

In light of this I was reflecting this afternoon on our need for beauty. I've been reading a lot about nationalism of late and therefore wondering about people's attachment to their homelands. Theorists often argue that the sense of belonging (surely a very powerful psychological need) is often carefully cultivated as part of a nationalistic movement. I don't doubt it. But I think we must do a fair whack of the convincing for ourselves.

I was born and raised in this country and I think it must be the most beautiful place I will ever know. Like anywhere it has its horrible patches, and in my travels and in the pictures of others I have seen more spectacular, more breathtaking landscapes than exist here. And I long too for other climes - there are many places in the world I would love to visit and would be happy to live in. But this one is the most beautiful to me, because this is home. I could be away from it for 30 years and this would be home.

I think we need beauty to survive, and so it's relative. Your home will be the most beautiful place, because you need to see its beauty to survive in it. And when your home is associated with all your other formative experiences, that idea will stick. I remember watching a documentary a while ago that said if our planet was a big ball of bubbling mud we would see beauty in it all the same - we would find some patterns of bubbles, some colours, some textures of mud more beautiful than others. You couldn't find it all disgusting, because you'd self-destruct. I guess the same goes for physical beauty and for ideals.

Now feel free to tell me I'm talking pants : ) I'm off to the ironing.