Schools > Students > Ages 17-18 > Buddhism and the natural world > Beauty and inter-connectedness BEAUTY WILL SAVE THE WORLD
In September 1915, the philosopher Albert Schweitzer was travelling on a steamer along the Ogooue
River in French Equatorial Africa (now Gabon).(footnote 39)
He was turning over in his mind the question of what might be the
soundest basis for ethics. Just then, the boat passed close to a herd
of hippopotamuses. As he paused to watch them, a phrase flashed into
his mind that was to become the basis of all of his future work: 'reverence
for life'. This phrase came to him quite unexpectedly and unsought.
It was not so much a logical deduction as a leap of intuition, a heartfelt
conviction that arose in response to the beauty around him.(footnote 40)
We all have some experience of natural beauty - perhaps
a passing sense of being stirred by a particular sight, or an unexpected
peace and oneness with nature while out walking in the
countryside. Sometimes these experiences can have a deeper feel to
them, as if they concern the meaning and purpose of life itself, as
if they are showing us something of how to live our lives. If, like
Schweitzer, we are able to learn from them, our lives will naturally
be richer and more purposeful. We will live not on the basis of moral
codes or assumed ideologies, but from a heartfelt experience of truth.
Natural beauty, it seems, can be a gateway to wisdom.
But how can we learn for ourselves from such experiences? We can't
seek the unsought, or even expect something unexpected. We can, however,
be open to the experience of beauty. We can learn to see nature with
a warm heart. We can spend more time with nature. And we can reflect
on it. I'll say more about each of these in the following paragraphs.
Being Open
We need to be open in a number of different ways. We need
to be open-minded enough to see the world not only through facts and
figures, and to recognize that we don't have all the answers. And
we need to be open-hearted enough to want to seek - even long
for - higher levels of truth and value. (In Buddhism, the word
'faith' denotes exactly such openness and longing,
rather than referring to any sort of intellectual belief.)
We also need to be open-handed, because beauty will resist any attempt
at appropriation. The truth of this struck me a few years ago. As
I was setting off for a week in Scotland, a friend of mine, whose
writing workshops I had been attending, set me an exercise. He suggested
I write a poem about the loch in front of the retreat centre where
I was staying. When I arrived, I looked and looked at the loch, but
all I could see was an expanse of water occupying the glen, nothing
inspiring at all. The loch was just a loch. It was only after a few
days, when I'd given up in exasperation, that I was finally able to
experience something of the beauty of the surroundings and write my
poem. To appreciate beauty, I first had to stop grasping after it.
Sometimes, natural beauty can be difficult to resist. The majesty
of a mountainous landscape, or the night sky, is such that it resists
all attempts at appropriation. Not even a Sibelius or a Van Gogh can
really capture them - all they can do is try to share their own
sensibility to them.
Seeing with a Warm Heart
Appreciating the beauty of nature is too important to
be left entirely to artists, poets, and musicians. Appreciation
means seeing the world with a warm heart, which is essential if we're
going to sustain our efforts to save it. There are two things that
are likely to get in the way of this kind of seeing. One is seeing
the world in a utilitarian way - seeing nature
just as an economic resource. The other, which as environmentalists
we are likely to be more prone to, is seeing the world in a problem-oriented
way. The rainforest becomes just another issue to be angry about,
and the sight of a blue whale is just another occasion for anxiety.
The utilitarian view can be likened to that of a gardener who creates
one big vegetable patch, cutting down hedgerows, trees, and anything
else that gets in the way so as to save some money on the grocery
bill. The problem-oriented gardener, on the other hand, is one
who can't look out of the window without worrying about when they'll
find time to mow the lawn, or remarking on how pernicious the bindweed
is. For both of these types, actually working in the garden is likely
to be a matter of grim necessity. But for the gardener who takes time
simply to enjoy the garden for its own sake, the hours spent working
will melt away unnoticed. Their warm appreciation of the richness
of the soil and the unique qualities of different plants will turn
their work into pleasure.
With the same warm appreciation as the happily absorbed gardener,
our work in the world will be enriching and invigorating. As we have
seen, we can cultivate warm appreciation of people through meditation
and the practice of ethics. We also need to cultivate a warm appreciation
of all of nature.
Time with Nature
In practice, this means that we need to take some time
away from the usual business of life to enjoy nature. The Buddha
himself did this in his own life. Much of his time was spent instructing
his own followers, or in walking from village to village to share
his understanding with as many people as possible. He also spent time
cultivating individual friendships and urged his followers to do likewise.
But at other times, he would just enjoy being alone with nature.
On one occasion, feeling hemmed in by the crowds of followers, kings,
ministers, and other visitors, the Buddha took off alone to spend
some time in a forest. Once there, he came upon a great bull elephant,
who, also feeling hemmed in by his herd, had left to find some solitude.
It seems that the two recognized in each other a kindred spirit. And
so, for a few months, they lived, of one mind, each delighting in
the unclouded waters and tranquil solitude of the forest.(footnote 41)
Reflecting on Nature
We can get a little closer to the truths of nature through
active reflection. This won't, of course, be just an
intellectual exercise, but will involve feeling the truth as well
as thinking it. To illustrate what I mean by this, let's try to imagine
what the Buddha might have been thinking and feeling in the forest.
The Buddha taught that all things are part of inter-dependent networks of causes and effects. When
he looked at a tree, he wouldn't just have thought 'here's
a tree,' or even 'here's a beautiful tree'. You can imagine that his
understanding and warm appreciation would go deeper than that. He
would have seen the tree as the product of conditions - the seed
of another tree, the rain, the sunlight, the nutrients in the soil
around the roots. When a leaf or a branch falls, it ceases to be part
of what we call the tree. If a woodcutter were to come along, the
tree might be turned into a pile of firewood, leaving only the stump
in the ground. So 'tree' is just a label that we attach to an arbitrarily
defined part of a much bigger process. It is not a separate or permanent
feature of reality, but a temporary arrangement in a flow of energy
and matter. From an atom's point of view, the tree is just a stage
on the journey from the atmosphere, to tree, to firewood, and to ashes.
This is not to say that the Buddha would necessarily have analysed
the tree in a scientific way. Perhaps these insights would have been
contained within a more intuitive appreciation of the tree's beauty.
Just as he felt a natural sympathy with the bull elephant, so he would
have understood what united him with the tree. A tree is made up of
the same air, water, and sunlight as a human body. A mango picked
from its branches one day might be a part of the human body the next.
People, trees, elephants, and mangoes are not ultimately separate,
they are merely labels that we attach to different parts of a greater
interconnected process.
If trees are not separate and permanent features of reality, then
by applying similar logic we can say the same for individual atoms,
for the earth as a whole, and for ourselves. Perhaps much of the anxiety
that attaches to the survival of the planet arises from a reluctance
to think about one's own death. Thinking about the inevitability
of death forces us to question life's meaning and purpose. It forces
us to look beyond what we arbitrarily label as our self towards the
mystery of whatever greater process it is that unifies all life and
all things. Thinking about the inevitability of the end of life on
earth - whether in a hundred years or in a hundred million years
- prompts us to ask the same question all the more deeply.
In looking at a garden of roses at the height of summer, or the play
of light on the sandflats as the sun goes down, one might catch a
glimpse of reality. Would a rose be as beautiful if it
wasn't so delicate and didn't fade in the autumn? Would the light
from the sun setting over the sandflats be as beautiful if it stayed
the same all day and night? In experiencing their beauty, one knows
that any words one might try to attach to them will pale into insignificance.
To find ultimate meaning, according to the Buddha's teachings, one
needs to see this same fragile, evanescent beauty not just in roses
and sunsets, but in oneself, in other people, in all living beings
and, indeed, in everything. As the 'Diamond
Sutra' concludes:
'As stars, a fault of vision, as a lamp,
A mock show, dew drops, or a bubble,
A dream, a lightning flash, or cloud,
So should one view what is conditioned.'
Indra's Net
We can learn to see this beauty not only in things viewed
individually, but also in reality as a whole. As nothing is fixed,
it is not ultimately separate from everything else. The Avatamsaka Sutra, another ancient Buddhist text, illustrates
this unity in diversity by means of the simile of Indra's net. Indra, the king of the gods in Indian mythology,
owns a net made of strings of jewels. Each jewel perfectly reflects,
and is reflected by, every other jewel. Thus each jewel shares in
the existence of every other jewel yet does not lose its individual
identity.
Indra's net symbolizes an aspect of beauty that has increasingly come
to light through the environmental crisis. It shines through the delicate
balance of ecology, the interconnectedness of
all life from the coral reefs of the Pacific Ocean to the open horizons
of the African savannah. This vast net of life, which contains more
species than we have yet counted, is worth cherishing not just because
it is useful, but because we are part of it and it is part of us.
Just as we see our selfishness reflected in the despoliation of the
environment, so, in its rich beauty, we see an intimation of our own
potential.
Indra's net is also a symbol for the unity of humanity. Here, spread
out across the surface of a living blue-green planet, we are the universe
aware of itself - each person individual and unique, yet inextricably
connected. We are all in the same boat. We are in the human race and
the human race, in all its beautiful diversity, is in us.
It is not just a question of seeing beauty, or talking about it or
writing about it. Beauty has failed if it doesn't change us. As part
of the intricate, delicate web of life, forever changing beneath the
blue sky, our perspective shifts. We see living things and the world
as forever changing but all the more to be cherished and revered -
not from an anxiety to preserve things as they are, but from simple
compassion. In losing the world, we save it.
Reflection
Try this exercise somewhere in a natural landscape,
perhaps one that is familiar to you or where you have spent some time.
Look all around you. Take in the shape and form of the
land, its texture, the weather, the water flowing or standing on the
earth's surface, the kind of vegetation, any animals you can see.
Note the forms, colours, patterns of sunlight and shade.
Feel the earth beneath where you are standing or sitting.
Be aware of gravity - the solid matter in your body being drawn
to the greater solid matter of the earth. Reflect that the food from
which your body is made comes from the earth and will return there.
Look at the rivers and streams. Their form changes only
slowly, but the water that flows through them is constantly changing.
Be aware of the flow of liquid through your body - through your
digestive system, your bloodstream, your skin. Water comes in and
goes out, just like a stream.
Reflect on the forces that brought the earth into being,
the vast energy of the expanding universe. Imagine the earth coming
into being, its surface solidifying into a crust. Imagine the forces
that have shaped the landscape over millions of years - the movement
of the earth's surface, being worn down by ice or rivers. Feel your
own physical energy - your movement, the warmth of your body.
Reflect that this energy has come from the same source. The same energy
that you feel inside has brought into being the landscape around you.
Watch the clouds or the wind, changing from second to second.
Feel the air on your skin. Feel the air entering and leaving your
body, filling your lungs and sustaining your life from moment to
moment.
Reflect how dependent you are on the landscape around you,
on the extent to which your body has evolved to survive on the earth's
surface. Try to still your mind and sit in silence, simply experiencing
yourself as part of the landscape rather than as a detached observer.
Footnotes
39:The chapter title is paraphrased from Fyodor Dostoevsky's The Idiot.
40:Quoted in Peter Marshall, Nature's Web: Rethinking Our Place on Earth, Cassell: London 1992
41:Udana iv.5
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