Pepper Trail | Travels | Chasing Beauty

CHASING BEAUTY

"No reason can be asked or given why the soul seeks beauty. Beauty, in its largest and profoundest sense, is one expression for the universe."

-- Emerson

In March, I stood among the multi-colored stones of Death Valley, gazing at the greatest wildflower bloom I had ever seen, the greatest bloom of a generation. With five friends, I had driven through the night from Oregon to see this spectacle, and now that we had arrived, I found that I was unprepared for the power of its beauty. This deepest valley of the continent was filled with a golden lake of flowers, and we walked upon its shore.

We were not alone in our awe-struck appreciation. We were sharing Death Valley with many, many others; a great multitude, thousands strong. They had traveled from every corner of the United States, and from Canada and Europe and Japan, to experience this moment when everything aligned to create the perfect bloom. We had all come for the same reason: we were all chasing beauty.

Beauty is like love. It exalts and afflicts us all, leaving us happier and more sad, richer and poorer, more foolish and more wise. It is indispensable to the good human life. In its absence, we seek it, often not quite knowing what we seek or understanding the lack that we feel. The rumor of this beauty had been enough to wake me up from the slumber of daily life, and to send me out into the darkness and across the desert.

I found a Death Valley garden filled with wildflowers whose names were as colorful as their blossoms: Desert Trumpet and Snake-head and Turtleback, Honey-sweet and Pickleweed, Pebble Pincushion and Gravel Ghost. I know that many nature-lovers feel that naming flowers robs them of their mystery and prevents pure appreciation. But I have found the opposite to be true. The concentration and clarity of vision required to identify a flower takes me deeper into its beauty, strengthens my awe at its particular perfection. And so I knelt happily among the rocks with my botanical friends, focusing on the details that make all the difference between this kind of evening-primrose and that one. After making each identification, we raised our eyes to the color-drenched landscape and were swept away all over again.

		CHASING BEAUTY "No reason can be asked or given why the soul seeks beauty. Beauty, in its largest and profoundest sense, is one expression for the universe." -- Emerson In March, I stood among the multi-colored stones of Death Valley, gazing at the greatest wildflower bloom I had ever seen, the greatest bloom of a generation. With five friends, I had driven through the night from Oregon to see this spectacle, and now that we had arrived, I found that I was unprepared for the power of its beauty. This deepest valley of the continent was filled with a golden lake of flowers, and we walked upon its shore. We were not alone in our awe-struck appreciation. We were sharing Death Valley with many, many others; a great multitude, thousands strong. They had traveled from every corner of the United States, and from Canada and Europe and Japan, to experience this moment when everything aligned to create the perfect bloom. We had all come for the same reason: we were all chasing beauty. Beauty is like love. It exalts and afflicts us all, leaving us happier and more sad, richer and poorer, more foolish and more wise. It is indispensable to the good human life. In its absence, we seek it, often not quite knowing what we seek or understanding the lack that we feel. The rumor of this beauty had been enough to wake me up from the slumber of daily life, and to send me out into the darkness and across the desert. I found a Death Valley garden filled with wildflowers whose names were as colorful as their blossoms: Desert Trumpet and Snake-head and Turtleback, Honey-sweet and Pickleweed, Pebble Pincushion and Gravel Ghost. I know that many nature-lovers feel that naming flowers robs them of their mystery and prevents pure appreciation. But I have found the opposite to be true. The concentration and clarity of vision required to identify a flower takes me deeper into its beauty, strengthens my awe at its particular perfection. And so I knelt happily among the rocks with my botanical friends, focusing on the details that make all the difference between this kind of evening-primrose and that one. After making each identification, we raised our eyes to the color-drenched landscape and were swept away all over again.