Jul 22, 2007


I have been thinking a lot these past few days about beauty and beautiful things. Experiences that I have had in SL (in Caledon and outside of her lovely boundaries) and in RL have been on my mind.

Beauty is defined in the Merriam Webster Dictionary in this way:

Pronunciation: 'byü-tE
Function: noun
Inflected Form(s): plural beauties
Etymology: Middle English beaute, bealte, from Anglo-French, from bel, beau beautiful, from Latin bellus pretty; akin to Latin bonus good -- more at BOUNTY
1 : the quality or aggregate of qualities in a person or thing that gives pleasure to the senses or pleasurably exalts the mind or spirit : LOVELINESS
2 : a beautiful person or thing; especially : a beautiful woman
3 : a particularly graceful, ornamental, or excellent quality
4 : a brilliant, extreme, or egregious example

Please allow me now set forward some examples for you.

Sitting in the open air beside a loved one at a summer outdoor concert, enjoying the music, watching the interactions of others around you. As you look up to the setting sun, the colors of the clouds are changing. Orange, peach, pink, purple. The rays of the sun falling through breaks in the clouds. The moon begins to rise. The wind is cool and gentle and you feel the kiss of it on your cheeks. As the sun falls below the horizon, the glow left behind caresses you and your loved one, and all those around you. Things that perhaps were not lovely before, have suddenly be recreated in this glow.


The smile in your lover's eyes as you embrace...as you look at one another unable to fathom how or why this love has come to pass, but oh so thankful that it has.


A Thing of Beauty

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.

Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkened ways
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,
Trees old, and young, sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in; and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling covert make
'Gainst the hot season; the mid-forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
All lovely tales that we have heard or read:
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink.

Nor do we merely feel these essences
For one short hour; no, even as the trees
That whisper round a temple become soon
Dear as the temple's self, so does the moon,
The passion poesy, glories infinite,
Haunt us till they become a cheering light
Unto our souls, and bound to us so fast
That, whether there be shine or gloom o'ercast,
They always must be with us, or we die.

Therefore, 'tis with full happiness that I
Will trace the story of Endymion.
The very music of the name has gone
Into my being, and each pleasant scene
Is growing fresh before me as the green
Of our own valleys: so I will begin
Now while I cannot hear the city's din;
Now while the early budders are just new,
And run in mazes of the youngest hue
About old forests; while the willow trails
Its delicate amber; and the dairy pails
Bring home increase of milk. And, as the year
Grows lush in juicy stalks, I'll smoothly steer
My little boat, for many quiet hours,
With streams that deepen freshly into bowers.
Many and many a verse I hope to write,
Before the daisies, vermeil rimmed and white,
Hide in deep herbage; and ere yet the bees
Hum about globes of clover and sweet peas,
I must be near the middle of my story.
O may no wintry season, bare and hoary,
See it half finished: but let Autumn bold,
With universal tinge of sober gold,
Be all about me when I make an end!
And now at once, adventuresome, I send
My herald thought into a wilderness:
There let its trumpet blow, and quickly dress
My uncertain path with green, that I may speed
Easily onward, thorough flowers and weed.

- By: John Keats


Journeying with a friend and finding new and lovely places to explore.

Somewhere in Metatheria


The grins on the faces of your children as you play Pirate with them. Little do they know how very much you enjoy being "Captain Puffy Pants" or the "Dread Pirate Roberts" as they create the story around you. You enjoy rescuing "Cheerleader Girl" as much as you enjoy capturing her and shooting your cannon at the good guys' ship.



Cygnets in Metatheria


Playing with friends

There is beauty even in being sunk by Miss Virrginia Tombola

Conducting an informal AAR on the iron clad battles with Miss Tombola and Colonel O'Toole



Do not go to the garden of flowers!
O Friend! go not there;
In your body is the garden of flowers.
Take your seat on the thousand petals of the lotus,
and there gaze on the Infinite Beauty.

From: Songs Of Kabir
Translated by Rabindranath Tagore
New York, The Macmillan Company 1915

Sitting on a Lilly Pad in Metatheria


Coming together to fight a terrible disease. A disease which has snuffed out the candles of many beautiful friends, and many more that we cannot know.

The crowd in Loch Avie for the SLRFL Compliments Contest

Sitting and listening to the fine compliments being handed out by Colonel Somme and Mr Drinkwater. Erasmus Margulis, Eva, Shylah Garmes, Zealot Benmergui (and others whom I do not recall - my apologies)


The thrill and beauty of competition

Mr Drinkwater compliments the Colonel's shoes



Colonels Somme and O'Toole, Loch Avie's Own; Mr JJ Drinkwater, and Sir ZenMondo Wormser

Many more friends listen as the turn of phrase leans to the dramatic...but only in a complimentary way


An embrace of a friend

Colonel Somme is declared the winner of the Compliments Contest

Good Sportsmen and good friends


Long-lasting love

My dear friends, (and the humans behind their avatars) celebrate 17 years of marriage. Calli and Exrex


Song of the Mystic - Beauty


And the child spoke unto the Mystic:

"Master speak to me of Beauty, for I have
yet to see the face of Her sacred soul."

And the Mystic answered, saying:

You are wrong my child; many were the
days when She smiled upon you, and you knew
it not.
Many were the nights when She whispered
the song of Life unto your ear, but always were
you asleep.
Be there something of more innocence than
the gentle cooing of a newborn babe?
Be there something of more purity than the
shadow of a woman's alluring smile?
Be there something of more tenderness
than the endearing look held in the eyes of a mother?
And is not the sum of such innocence, purity
and tenderness the essence of all Beauty?
Open the eyes of your soul, and Beauty shall
reveal Herself unto you.
Listen with the ears of your heart, and She
will sing Her silent melody.
And if you see Beauty where all others see
naught but ugliness, then truly do you look through
the loving eyes of God.

Excerpts from “The Prophet’s Candle” by Daniel


Amber_Palowakski said...

Simply put..."Beautiful". Thank you, LAdy Eva!