Paying for beauty

I went backpacking last weekend. We started after a deluge flooded the area we were walking in. The rivers were overflowing their banks, making lakes across the path and in some places, washing the path away. The power of water and the residue of the massive rainfall was spectacular. Little creeks were now raging rivers. The roar of the water was breathtaking. It created obstacles, but the overall effect was a fierce form of beauty.

The bugs were worse than I EVER have experienced before. They flew around my face, bounced between my face and my glasses, flying into my eyes. And then there were the bites. They were relentless. You couldn't stand still. My son built a fire and the choice as stand away from the smoke and be ravaged by the bugs, or stand in the smoke and tear up.

I started thinking about beauty and pain. There is a price exacted for viewing beauty, like an admission fee. Maybe the more we are willing to pay, the more beauty we are permitted to see. Remembering my friend, Nancy, her beauty radiated in proportion to the direness of her condition. I was able to see more of her beauty as I was willing to enter into the sadness of her loss.

Now a week and a half later I struggle to refrain from scratching my bites, I think back on the beauty I saw. Was it worth it? I think it was. I wouldn't have seen the beauty if it wasn't for the obstacles.

I see real beauty when I am willing to experience the pain that goes along with it.