The Importance of Seeking “Small Moments Of Beauty”
At the Thanksgiving table this past week, my guests took turns naming one thing for which they are particularly grateful. A close friend who moved from Italy to central Illinois a few years ago offered an intriguing response. She said she is most grateful for “small moments of beauty.”
My friend grew up in the Abruzzo region of south-central Italy in a home that sits amid pine-studded mountains. On clear days, it is possible to see the stunning blue of the Adriatic Sea. She explained that in her town of Guardiagrele, the Medieval architecture of the stone buildings and churches provide a constant feast for the eyes.
Vibrant paintings and elaborate sculptures line church walls. This is the everyday beauty — both natural and artistic — that the people of Guardiagrele enjoy.
It’s somewhat different in central Illinois’ flat land of prairie grasses, corn and soybean fields. There is beauty here, too, but you sometimes have to look harder for it. That’s especially true at this time of year. My friend talked about taking in the changing colors of the sky at sunset on her evening walks here with the dog, and of learning to appreciate the intricate architecture of our bare-limbed trees. Her “small moments of beauty.”
I had a similar experience driving from Illinois to Minnesota this past week. Farmers have cleared the crops — only the husks remain — and our deciduous trees have shed their leaves. The once colorful wildflowers that grow along the roadsides are gone, too. What remains is a variegated palette of gold, brown, amber and gray gleanings. With careful observation, you can perceive subtle differences in color.
I was struck by the beauty of these late autumn colors, muted as they are. I felt gratitude at how the land keeps on giving, year after year, how it knows when to rest so it can rise renewed again in the spring.
The poet Mary Oliver writes, “Maybe the desire to make something beautiful/ is the piece of God that is inside each of us.”
In the Academy-award winning film “American Beauty,” a troubled young man obsessively videotapes the world around him. He marvels at the sight of a plastic bag dancing in the wind. He sees something transcendent in the eyes of a dead pigeon. When his girlfriend asks him why he makes these recordings, he responds, “It helps me to remember — I need to remember — there is so much beauty in the world.”
St. Benedict, the founder of western monasticism, understood that the pursuit of beauty is also a spiritual practice. He insured a place for artisans in the monastery, recognizing that art is another way in which God may be glorified. The poet Mary Oliver writes, “Maybe the desire to make something beautiful/ is the piece of God that is inside each of us.” She often found her small moments of beauty in the most unlikely of places.
As we lean into winter in the coming weeks, let us look for “small moments of beauty,” as my Italian friend does, even in unlikely places. Wherever we go, let us seek to “make something beautiful,” as Mary Oliver urges, however simple, however small.
