To experience beauty is to feel a deep, spiritual, joy, because beauty is the recognition of a transcendent quality in life, a flash of truth breaking through the dense clouds of egoism in our mind.
Beauty has nothing to do with art, aesthetic pleasure, or attractiveness, but it may occasionally be given some art – or any other human endeavor; a scene in nature, or any other scene, indoors or outdoors – to spark the emotional experience of beauty.
Whatever evokes beauty, or whoever experiences it, cannot take any credit for it. The experience is subjective, of course, but beauty is not. Beauty makes the distinction between objectivity and subjectivity totally irrelevant.
Art, all forms of pleasure and attractive appearances can be produced by man, but beauty cannot. Beauty can only be accepted freely as a gift of joy, beyond understanding.
The cause of beauty is the absolute perfection of our innate reality. We may be hiding from it here, for the time being, in a crappy dream world of our own making, but being only an illusion it’s definitely not a defense built to perfection. The roof of our tumbledown refuge often leaks and we run the serious risk of experiencing some encroachment of real beauty upon our deluded mind.
If an artist – at times, for a moment – can accept herself as the truly innocent, beautiful, being that she really is, no external motivation for practicing art is found necessary anymore. The experience of beauty will be its own reward.
It’s not that in an experience of beauty the particular colors, shapes, sounds, words, or thoughts, are in themselves more true, more real, than other appearances; it’s that they trigger off the emotion of remembering something good, and dearly loved, but long forgotten, a sense of our reality beyond all times.