The value of beauty

At least today the weather is a delight although, as usual, I could do with a gentler breeze, unless, of course, I’m trying to burn some of our dead, broken branches in the fire pit. Then a stronger breeze from a consistent direction is helpful. There I go again, reducing nature to its utility function.

Perhaps I’m just displaying my crass, self-centered side, but it seems to me that trying to value, in non-economic terms, the multiple values of nature, including other people, makes more sense than reducing ecosystem services to a dollar value. Where’s the dollar value of beauty? Seeing something beautiful, such as a flock of swans emerging from a cloud-filled sky, makes me feel good, makes me happy. I don’t have to put a dollar value on it. In fact, “paying" for beauty in terms other than time, effort, and attention, might well diminish its value to me.

Recently, I’ve been reading a book by Jackie Morris, The Quiet Music of Gently Falling Snow. It’s one of a number of books she’s written and / or illustrated, including several done to illustrate Robert MacFarlane’s writing, including The Lost Words and The Lost Spells. Each, and work based on them, have had a magical, transformative affect on me and many others.

The pleasure I’ve derived from reading those  books and ...Falling Snow is far greater than their purchase price. Meanwhile, back in the world that could use more magic these days, Morris’ web site shares a current posting about a different kind of purchase price, that for housing and the problems gentrification can create for artists in rural locations. (I suspect many of us are more familiar with the issues associated with urban gentrification.) The entire question of attaining any sort of balance between urban and rural, rich and un-rich, tinkers, tailors, soldiers and spies, seems to become more complex by the day. What ecosystem services do humans provide that there should be so many of us, and why do we keep reproducing at a rate that can’t be sustained? See what the past 50 years look like:

Project Drawdown: Setting the stage

In America, we often teach  children that they can grow up to be anything they want. Now, perhaps it’s time to teach them that they can’t grow up to be everything they want. Maybe, actually, we need to begin by teaching that to the  adults. We’re all in this together, like it or not.

The Lost Words Blessing

Composer & Copyright

Original song by Julie Fowlis, Karine Polwart, Seckou Keita, Kris Drever, Rachel Newton, Beth Porter, Jim Molyneux, Kerry Andrew.

Enter the wild with care, my love
And speak the things you see
Let new names take and root and thrive and grow
And even as you travel far from heather, crag and river
May you like the little fisher, set the stream alight with glitter
May you enter now as otter without falter into water

Look to the sky with care, my love
And speak the things you see
Let new names take and root and thrive and grow
And even as you journey on past dying stars exploding
Like the gilded one in flight, leave your little gifts of light
And in the dead of night my darling,
find the gleaming eye of starling
Like the little aviator, sing your heart to all dark matter

Walk through the world with care, my love
And sing the things you see
Let new names take and root and thrive and grow
And even as you stumble through machair sands eroding
Let the fern unfurl your grieving, let the heron still your breathing
Let the selkie swim you deeper, oh my little silver-seeker
Even as the hour grows bleaker, be the singer and the speaker
And in city and in forest, let the larks become your chorus
And when every hope is gone, let the raven call you home

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