This thought occurred to me while I was walking my familiar path in the University Parks. First of all, I love the University Parks. In the middle of this very busy, fast moving metropolis of Oxford there are these sacred 91 acres of beautiful, green wilderness. Of course, it's not really wilderness. There are paths and beautiful benches scattered about, but in contrast to the city, it's a wilderness. There's a beautiful river which flows through part of it and a duck pond in one corner of it. There are big open cricket fields, and parts where thick underbrush and trees grow wild. There are flower beds full of flowers with colors you cannot even imagine, and it's all so peaceful. What a beautiful retreat from the busyness of the city.
As I was walking this familiar path today, it hit me how strange it was that there was such a distinct difference between my feelings in response to the park at that very moment in time and my feelings when I first adventured through the parks down that path. The Beauty had somehow evolved. (Sidenote: Dear conservative friends, please do not be offended that I'm using the world evolution. It is not an evil thing, and I'm just using it to mean the gradual change of something overtime. I love you a lot.)
So what was the difference? Well, when I first walked through the parks, there was a certain Beauty in the newness of it all. Every field had exciting potential, every tree possessed a secret, every path took me to a new world. It was thrilling, and adventurous, and undeniably beautiful. I knew it was Beautiful in and of itself before I reacted to it. I just brought the adventure and thrill with me in my experience. But then my feelings today were much different. Today the path wasn't exactly thrilling, and it certainly didn't feel like it was an adventure. Today the path was Beautiful because it was familiar. I knew the path. It knew me. It was like walking with an old friend. There was Beauty in remembering, remembering the excitement of the beginning, and there was Beauty in feeling like I belonged there.
I'm realizing that this is almost always how I experience Beauty. There's always a point when I'm first introduced to the Beauty and I love it for its thrill and adventure, but then as I become familiar with it, it changes completely. I react to it differently; I perceive it differently. I think sometimes we make the mistake of letting the familiar stage be the stage when we stop appreciating Beauty. When the thrill wears off, so does, in our minds, the Beauty. But I'm convinced that Beauty is a constant. If something is truly Beautiful, then it remains Beautiful for as long as it remains (though that's not to say that when it changes, it's not possible for the changed object to be Beautiful as well. It certainly might be. It would just have to be reassessed). I want to continue to see the Beauty in things even when the newness wears off. I'm so glad I've been able to do that here in Oxford. Everything here is so overwhelmingly Beautiful. I can't stand to think I could ever take it for granted.
I wrote in a post a couple weeks ago that Oxford has become "normal for me but not exactly." I'm thinking now that Oxford's Beauty has just evolved, or rather, my perception of the Beauty of Oxford has evolved. At first, it was Beautiful, new, thrilling, and adventurous, and now it's familiar, comforting, almost homey, and still Beautiful. Ah, I live in such a Beautiful world. And ya know what? This is the same world I lived in back in the States. Amazing that I had to fly halfway across the world to realize the Beauty of my home. God is so good. There is Beauty everywhere, sometimes we just have to look intentionally to find it.
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| Here's the view from the bench I sat on today: The duck pond! |
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| The sky was magnificent. The sun was super bright. |
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