Beauty
- Feb 20
- 6 min read
Beauty
[An excerpt from our friend Sergio Antonio’s new book, A Map to Awakening.]
As with every student in the school of which I am a part, much of my work is devoted to absorbing higher impressions.
I used to live in Rome, a city overflowing with beauty. I was lucky enough to find an apartment in a central area that was walking distance to many of the city's churches and museums, for which I have an annual pass. Wherever I have lived I have visited and revisited the same museums, every month, dozens of times, for years, accompanying visitors, deciding to spend my time primarily that way. I have seen Egyptian and Mayan pyramids, temples in the Far East and small Romanesque churches in Southern Italy, mosaics in Monreale and in Ravenna, the Parthenon and the Taj Mahal, prehistoric towers and sacred wells in Sardinia and megalithic temples in Malta, the great museums of the world and small exhibitions in tiny countries.
It is hard to say what a higher impression is. Even more so, what beauty is. It is easier, perhaps, to describe the kind of work that is done in front of an art form.
On the one hand there is, in my opinion, a preparatory activity of gathering information. Not too much of it. I try to tune in to those that are most relevant in relation to the possibility that the artist is a conscious being or that the tradition is from a school.
But the main work takes place in front of the artwork. It could be said to consist of inhibiting random associations, staying focused—remaining present.
At first I pause in front of the work, familiarizing myself with it. I try not to think too much. The right rhythm is: one short thought, one long pause. Another short thought, another long pause without ‘I’s.
It starts with the very mundane, such as what are the colors and shapes? There is a circle here. The painting has predominance of blue. Things like that. Only after that, a look at the story, the event, the characters. Then one is left to absorb, in Presence. One becomes familiar with it as in front of a stranger, one creates a relationship with the work of art—old favorites even become “friends.” One should not be afraid to stay too long; waiting and remaining exposed to that energy, details gradually emerge. It is there that one can fully perceive where there is beauty, unity, harmony, and energy.
One fact in our favor is that the artist—whether it was an unknown prehistoric genius who painted the caves of Lascaux or Chauvet, or someone whose biography we know, such as Rembrandt—put great energy and attention into that work. Perhaps, conscious attention, from world 12 or 6. And so we can receive a lot from it in turn.
What hampers this process is always the same: imagination. Every impression will prompt associations, and in two or three seconds my mental habits will take me away (I think I have already mentioned the humiliation I felt when I realized that the thing I mostly paid attention to at a museum was the beautiful female visitors).
This state of passive reception, where one tries to inhibit imagination, can be an intolerable torture for some. There are those who just cannot concentrate (rather than concentrate, try letting impressions flow in). There are those who cannot do without their bookish or learned associations; without Presence these are nothing more than just elaborate forms of imagination. There are also those who just cannot absorb even a minimal amount of information that would allow them to relate or connect to the work of art—they remain like bored children, not knowing how the game is played.
We need to see the obstacles in us and find exercises or techniques to stay here. The form of imagination that prevents us from standing in front of this picture now are the same difficulties encountered in trying to be present to any moment of our lives.
As members of the school, several of us may gather in front of a painting or sculpture and quietly, one after the other, share our observations in a way that does not lead us away from the moment. These exchanges show how different our respective approaches are and from how many angles we can approach anything. We access a work from very different entry points. I often notice with wonder in a museum what attracts me and what attracts other friends. For me it is often the symbolic aspect that grants me access, as in archaic Greek, Romanesque, or Byzantine sculpture. For others, it is the so-called mastery or alchemy, the refinement of composition, juxtapositions, and materials, or notable techniques and effects, as in a painting by Raphael or Titian. There are different routes of entry, depending on what kind of machine and method of working on oneself, but same point of arrival. It is a great opportunity to be here, present, with an active and inquiring eye and an open mind, interested in what is in front of us rather than in the flood of imagination that ceaselessly draws us away from what is before us.
On a recent trip to India, I had the opportunity to visit the Taj Mahal, a grand and extremely fine monument of Mughal art, i.e., it is from the Muslim tradition that came to India from Persia.
Because we are in the Islamic domain, there are no statues or depictions of men or deity in this palace of fine white marble: only floral motifs and geometric shapes. The snow-white exterior rises out of the fog like a ghost, contrasting with the red buildings that surround it. It seemed to me to represent Higher Centers, while the red stone of the other structures appeared to manifest the normal human level of functions. It reminded me of the white stone lacework that can be seen in Venice, also often emerging from the fog like the genie from the smoke of a lamp. Once inside, the decorations are mainly floral inlays: petals, leaves, and stems of colored marble set into white marble with exquisite precision. Throughout India I have seen prodigious works of craftsmanship, especially textiles, employing incredibly complex techniques such as the dyeing, inch by inch, of weft threads in a loom, which only once tightened will reveal the design; and others where a single mistake, a single oversight would destroy the work of months or years. It was clear to me that these crafts were originally conceived by schools, to practice mindfulness and Presence—and also how much these practices have been destroyed by the advent of the industrial age. Nevertheless, the remaining traces of the craft traditions are still capable of producing small wonders.
In the Taj Mahal with a student friend, we began to notice the details of certain flowers, where petals, stems and leaves were made of different colored stones set in white marble. They were arranged symmetrically yet maintained a very natural softness. Each of the plants was tilted to the right or left, forming closely symmetrical groups. The group on the right equal to that on the left, what is on the top equal to what is on the bottom. Where a door or window opened, creating an obstacle to the pattern, the ingenious symmetry solutions left us amazed. Thus, the central flower was not perfectly vertical, as absolute geometric symmetry would have it, but tilted to one side. We slowly realized that there were larger symmetries—a second block of flowers on the opposite side where, this time, the central flower was tilted to the other side. Pushed forward by observation after observation into a kind of perceptual vertigo, it became a meditation in this geometric labyrinth. All the attention poured into the marble by these unknown artists inspired and guided us; everything we noticed, someone had thought out. We were present, interested in the symmetries of the flowers more than in our own little ‘I’s. Meanwhile, other visitors were quickly bored with these endless flowers, and I realized how many years of effort it had taken for my attention not to give way after just a few minutes, how school discipline had given me deep access to another dimension of beauty.
Beauty, wisdom, goodness, and everything of that sort nourish the Soul’s wings, which grow best in their presence. ─ Plato
Sergio Antonio’s “A Map to Awakening” is available from Amazon, at this link:
Taj Mahal, white marble floral exterior (detail), Agra, India
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