Beauty In The Skies

I’ve always enjoyed flying, in a sense. As a dual British-American citizen, I love the fact that I can get on a plane in one country and within less than a day be standing on the ground of another country. And despite the frustrations of security, and the endless waiting, and being squeezed into a seat between strangers that (despite the cheerful predictions of friends) do not lend themselves to sleep – it still amazes me that I can go such a distance in such a short period of time, relatively speaking.

One of the things I love about flying that far above the earth is the sudden surprise views that appear – I’ve settled in, started reading or watching a film, maybe adjusted my ipod to listen to music, and then I glance out the window and there is a vista that appeared out of the clouds. I’ve seen majestic sunsets and glorious sunrises, clear views of the land below – I remember an incredible view of the Grand Canyon once that impressed me almost as much as seeing it ‘live and in person’.

Today it was a combination of clouds that made me feel I was looking at a different world. That’s one of the aspects of airline travel that you get nowhere else on earth – the feeling that you have transcended one world and have been given access for a moment to another. A science-fiction feeling, almost: it could be anywhere, and nowhere, and somewhere all in one. Pale gauzy clouds drifting lazily above…a thick stream of cloud just above what appears to be a horizon…mountainous clouds that could be land, or sea, or cloud…and a flowing sea of cloud that looks like waves, rolling and tumbling and yet making no sound at all. And a glimmer of light shining in from the side, as though to light up this eerie world from a source I knew not.

It was an unearthly beauty, and I drank it in. It disappeared so quickly – clouds rolled in and we flew on and soon there was nothing of general interest at all, and I went back to my book or my music or whatever had captured me before. But I won’t forget this beauty of the heavens – because for me it’s a reminder that there is another world, high above this one that we live and move and work and walk on. There is a heaven that can’t be imagined, and sometimes we get a little glimpse of it.  "It has always seemed to me, ever since early childhood, that, amid all the commonplaces of life, I was very near to a kingdom of ideal beauty. Between it and me hung only a thin veil. I could never draw it quite aside, but sometimes a wind fluttered it and I caught a glimpse of the enchanting realm beyond -- only a glimpse -- but those glimpses have always made life worth while."  (L.M. Montgomery, Alpine Path)  Flying is one of those privileges we have that reminds us that we are actually quite small and insignificant, and our little world that we think so much of is quite insignificant, also, when compared with all the other worlds we’ve forgotten about – and the greatest new world that we will one day be catapulted (or drawn slowly) into. It’s hard to believe, when I’m tired or sick or weary or weighed down with cares, that this world is so short and will one day disappear – and it will all be the new world, the impossible-to-believe world, the new heavens and new earth for those who have seen beyond this one. Because if this life is the best you can imagine, there’s not much waiting for you. But if this world pales in comparison to the possibilities, what beauty will one day be seen!

Beauty of Bailey's

A few weeks ago I stumbled across the Bailey's Facebook page, on which they were offering free samples of their new 'biscotti' flavour. I'm a big Bailey's fan, so I ordered mine and then promptly forgot all about it.  Recently my little sample arrived in the post, and it made for a beautiful morning - and a beautiful blog post!

It came with a little postcard  saying "With love from Italy".  I loved the picture, and just sat staring at it for a few minutes...one of the places I've always wanted to go is the Amalfi Coast in Italy, and this reminded me of it.

Blue skies, warm sunshine, turquoise waters, ancient crumbly buildings, green grass, and everything covered over with a sort of amber haze, like the entire country is steeped in romance and history and sepia-coloured photographs, even today.  I haven't been to Amalfi, but I've been to Rome, and it's one of my most favourite cities in the whole world.  The richness, the 'flavour' of the whole city just capture your heart and your senses all at once.  The colours of the Bailey's bottle and the drink itself just goes so well with it all - a creamy, vanilla-brown, smooth and thick and sweet. 

Bailey's is an amazing drink because it's so versatile. You can have it on its own (poured over ice in a pretty crystal glass); added to coffee (I don't usually like anything in my coffee, but Bailey's makes everything beautiful); poured into cheesecake or another kind of dessert - even chocolate chip cookie dough! Try it!  I went with the simple beauty of just pouring it out - and I've made my one little tiny sample bottle last for a week or more that way.

I'm realising, again - still? - that beauty truly is everywhere.  You can find beauty in a sample that arrives at your door - a small bottle - a warm drink - a photograph - anything.  It hides in secret places sometimes, and others it's right before your eyes, you just need to look.  If you would see beauty all around you, you must...

Stop.  Stop what you're doing and even what you're thinking. If necessary, physically stop and just stand there for a moment.

Set Aside. Now put down (physically or mentally) everything you're carrying around. If your hands are full, put things on a counter or desk. If your head is full, tell yourself you will set all that down and you will pick it up later. (It will come back, never fear.)  We don't want to set down because we fear we will forget something hugely important - but if your mind is at rest you will remember more, not less.

Focus.  On the beauty, on the world around you for the beauty in it.  It may be a person (your small daughter dancing, your sister trying on a dress; an object (a flower, a bee, a bowl of strawberries); a place (a beach, rock formations, a creek).  Whatever it is, now that you've stopped and set aside, turn all your mental energy to this beauty before you. And...

Investigate. Go deeper. Often the greatest beauty is in the detail. Flower petals. Stitching on a dress. Your daughter's tiara, or brown eyes, or the colour of her hair.  Pebbles sparkling on the beach. This is what children do - they go deeper. And they call us to beauty. "Look! Look!"

Stop and look today.

The Beauty of London

I love London. I always have, since the first time I visited it, tired and footsore and riding around on the top of a double-decker red bus even though it was cold and grey and windy and raining hard. I love the magic and mystery of it, the old-world beauty, the coming-to-life of Dickens and his ilk, the glamour and sophistication meeting the poor and downtrodden, the museums, the Tube, and the people – oh, the people! Frothing about in a mass of humanity such as is rarely ever seen. Brushing past each other with blank stares, slipping into and out of the stream of people with hardly a touch. Cycles, taxis, buses, and walkers. Men in dark suits with comfortable white trainers; women in fur coats; homeless men in rags; small children with balloons; tired mothers pushing prams; posh mothers having left their children behind; important-sounding businessmen talking, it seems, to nobody at all, staring straight ahead and seeing nothing. The way people walk directly under Big Ben or Westminster, or through St James Park, without even seeing it. The constant movement, lights, motion, sound, beauty.

There are particular beauties I see often in London – but I love that I always see new ones. This time it was an immense and sparkling array of gemstones in the Victoria & Albert Museum; the huge Christmas tree standing at Covent Garden, and the matching baubles hanging from the ceilings inside; the shadowy image of Sherlock Holmes at the Baker Street Tube stop; the incredible intricacy of autumn leaves frozen into the South Kensington ice rink; and the ever-changing beauty of the Harrods window displays. I stopped to stare at each one – it’s as good as shopping to walk around the entire Harrods store, and to me is a thank you to the artists who spent hours and days and perhaps even weeks preparing each display. The sheer extravagance and sparkle and expensive-ness and creativity compacted into one display was enough for me to stop and stare; and there is an entire city block of these to enjoy.

It seems, then, that the beauty I love in London is its marrying of consistency and variety. Like the seasons, which every year are the same, and yet every year just a little bit different, London as a city is also reassuringly the same, and yet with new glories to discover around every corner. I love going to the same shops, or to the Camden Town markets, with joyful expectation of a particular place that is there every time, and yet getting surprised by something new I’d passed several times and never before seen. Or looking out on the Thames to see it look as I’ve never seen it before.

Or people-watching on the Tube and being never-endingly fascinated by the variety, the faces, the hair, the shoes, the things they are carrying. Quite calmly, a man with a large potted plant pushes his way onto the Tube. Or a woman with a massive bouquet of flowers; a small child with two stuffed animals; a student reading a book and not even looking up as he navigates the doors. Sometimes I choose just one thing – like shoes – to look at on my journey. Tall brown boots; black patent leather shoes; sandals; fur-lined parka boots; little white ballet shoes; comfortable trainers; pointy alligator shoes; impossibly high heels, in varying colours; little kitten heels; and a plethora of others that go by in rapid succession, standing and sitting and shifting and stepping and sliding and every other kind of movement you can imagine. I also like trying to guess the face that goes with the shoes – and I’m very often surprised by the results. The patent-leather black shoes belong to a student, or the impossibly high heels to an older woman. Once again, London has been consistent, and surprised me at the same time.