The Pilgrim and His Guide

We are displaced people, always looking for a home yet never quite finding one.  Oh we may very much feel at home when we step into our leather-trimmed cars and are wafted away to our warm brick houses in the middle of autumn, or when we sip pumpkin-flavored-something in front of a crackling fire in the company of those we love.  Yes - it is easy to feel at home.  

Yet how quickly is man reminded of his place in the universe when he gazes upon the sun falling into the sea against a golden sky, or when he hears the serenade of a violin over a solemn piece played on a piano, or of course, when the eyes of the beloved meet his for a split moment in time.  The comforts of the world begin to fade as his focus is moved upward, higher, above and beyond his very self, so that he wants to escape the material fetters that bind him and soar to the caller, to unite himself with the falling sun, the saddened song, and the very body and soul of the beloved.  

In all of this, there exists a painful truth: as long as man is living within his mortal coil, he cannot fully unite himself to the Beautiful.  This is why we are pilgrims.  This is why we cannot call planet Earth as we know it our home.

Do not misunderstand me - there is much delight to be had in the journey, and it is very good indeed to live in the present and enjoy the company of loved ones while sipping pumpkin-flavored-whatever in front of a crackling fire.  The people we love are not a means to an end, nor is food and drink merely sustenance for our journey.  Such a view is utilitarian and saps the joy out of living.  Nevertheless, man exists as homo viator, a pilgrim man, and will always live in angst until he reaches the very heart of Heaven itself.  In fact, unless we realize that we are sojourners, we can never truly live peacefully and joyfully in the present, for the man that denies that he is made for another home painfully grasps at material goods to no avail.  It is only the homo viator that can truly love the created world.

And thus we are on the move.  Yet we move only because we have been disturbed by Beauty.  And as we follow the path that Beauty guides us along, we notice that she serves a threefold purpose: she is the pointer, she is the sustainer, and she is the goal.

As the pointer Beauty makes us aware of our displacement in the world, and thus begins our journey.  As the sustainer she lets us rest in her bosom, giving us motivation upon motivation, manifesting herself among and within the universe (the sunset, the song and the beloved point us beyond themselves, yet are also beautiful in their own right, and can therefore be loved on their own accord).  And lastly, as the goal, we consume Beauty entirely as it consumes us.

Once contained and containing, we will dance with the Beautiful and her two sisters, the Good and the True.  The three who cannot be trichotimized, the three who cannot be described as a single element, are the final resting place for the tired pilgrim.

Good reader, you have seen her, you have heard her song.  Now let Beauty be your guide.