Beauty is Practical
Steve had called us from a payphone on the edge of Bryce Canyon National Park. He and Alex had camped on some nearby BLM land, and Isaac was thrilled to hear about hoodoos -- the unique rock formations throughout the canyon that look like tall rock giants. It's a silly sounding word, and all boys like silly sounding words.
Later that afternoon at Granna's house, Granna got out a LIFE magazine book featuring our national parks. We showed Isaac pictures of the hoodoos.
On one of the first pages in the book, I read a quote by Teddy Roosevelt which stirred me to my bone. Days later, I'm still thinking about it.
"There is nothing more practical, in the end, than the preservation of beauty."
~Theodore Roosevelt
Amen to that!
It reminded me of another reason why I love the Pacific Northwest: the abundance of public land.
Here in Texas, everything is owned. Parks are tiny and sparse. There is absolutely no BLM land, and very few plots of "wilderness" are open to the public (Of course, there is no real wilderness in Texas, as everyplace you'd want to go has maintained roads going through it). In Oregon, BLM land was abundant, along with a host of other kinds of public lands. It made it easy to explore nature.
But can the preservation of such beauty be considered practical? Was Teddy Roosevelt right?
"Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where Nature may heal and cheer and give strength to body and soul alike."
~John Muir
Taken in this light, the dead president's words make sense. Without beautiful public spaces for us all to share, without a space for Nature to heal and cheer and give strength to us, who are we? We become sick, sad, and weak. Our virtues become fragmented. Our society falters, and we lose touch with what ennobles us. In Muir's mind, everyone had a right to beauty, even the poor among us. The need for beauty was as real as the need for bread to eat.
How do people live in ugly places without themselves becoming ugly?
This is a very real question of mine, and it speaks to one of my fears in staying here. This is a place where the only real beauty is beauty you cultivate for yourself. Just about everything else around is ugly: the houses, the suburban sprawl, the concrete, the traffic, the heat, the shriveled up dry heap of flora and fauna that passes as "the outdoors." If you can't afford to cultivate it, you are without it. If you are too lazy to cultivate it, you are without it. There are tiny, tiny glimpses of it here and there -- the shade of sky at sunset, the canopy of trees overhead as you lay in a hammock. But it's not like out West, where an all-consuming Beauty hits you in the face as soon as you walk out of doors.
Steve's postcards from his three week trip are tacked to the cork boards next to my computer desk. He has been to some truly beautiful places: narrow slot canyons, the rocky summits of Colorado mountains, national parks like Zion, Mesa Verde, and Bryce Canyon. He has climbed waterfalls using on his bare hands, stood atop cliffs lit bright red by the afternoon sun, camped under Cottonwood trees in mossy forest valleys, and watched clouds sail past below him.
Why can I not live in a place like that? This is America, after all -- a mobile country full of opportunities, many self-made. It wouldn't be that hard to do.
Later that afternoon at Granna's house, Granna got out a LIFE magazine book featuring our national parks. We showed Isaac pictures of the hoodoos.
On one of the first pages in the book, I read a quote by Teddy Roosevelt which stirred me to my bone. Days later, I'm still thinking about it.
"There is nothing more practical, in the end, than the preservation of beauty."
~Theodore Roosevelt
Amen to that!
It reminded me of another reason why I love the Pacific Northwest: the abundance of public land.
Here in Texas, everything is owned. Parks are tiny and sparse. There is absolutely no BLM land, and very few plots of "wilderness" are open to the public (Of course, there is no real wilderness in Texas, as everyplace you'd want to go has maintained roads going through it). In Oregon, BLM land was abundant, along with a host of other kinds of public lands. It made it easy to explore nature.
But can the preservation of such beauty be considered practical? Was Teddy Roosevelt right?
"Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where Nature may heal and cheer and give strength to body and soul alike."
~John Muir
Taken in this light, the dead president's words make sense. Without beautiful public spaces for us all to share, without a space for Nature to heal and cheer and give strength to us, who are we? We become sick, sad, and weak. Our virtues become fragmented. Our society falters, and we lose touch with what ennobles us. In Muir's mind, everyone had a right to beauty, even the poor among us. The need for beauty was as real as the need for bread to eat.
How do people live in ugly places without themselves becoming ugly?
This is a very real question of mine, and it speaks to one of my fears in staying here. This is a place where the only real beauty is beauty you cultivate for yourself. Just about everything else around is ugly: the houses, the suburban sprawl, the concrete, the traffic, the heat, the shriveled up dry heap of flora and fauna that passes as "the outdoors." If you can't afford to cultivate it, you are without it. If you are too lazy to cultivate it, you are without it. There are tiny, tiny glimpses of it here and there -- the shade of sky at sunset, the canopy of trees overhead as you lay in a hammock. But it's not like out West, where an all-consuming Beauty hits you in the face as soon as you walk out of doors.
Steve's postcards from his three week trip are tacked to the cork boards next to my computer desk. He has been to some truly beautiful places: narrow slot canyons, the rocky summits of Colorado mountains, national parks like Zion, Mesa Verde, and Bryce Canyon. He has climbed waterfalls using on his bare hands, stood atop cliffs lit bright red by the afternoon sun, camped under Cottonwood trees in mossy forest valleys, and watched clouds sail past below him.
Why can I not live in a place like that? This is America, after all -- a mobile country full of opportunities, many self-made. It wouldn't be that hard to do.