A-Aesthetician - A Diary from Prague 3/6

A tale of aesthetic proportions, perhaps shed with pure faith, a belief in "she is the one"?

I. Immensa pulchristudo, ubi talis invenitur?

"Immeasurable beauty, where is such to be found?", such contemplative, irreproachable, and tearfully despairing words would only echo from the mouth of the lost poet, a person who has experienced pain to a perilous extent. One could say, he has died the death, yet he still breathes the frosty mornings, bitter afternoons, shrinking evenings, and the silence of the night. However, the mere purity to dare pose such a question indicates that there are at the very least fragments of a fighter spirit left. As Camus put it, even in the midst of winter, within me, there was found an invincible summer. No matter how hard the world pushed against me, within me, there's something stronger - something better, pushing right back.

"There the world began over again every day in an ever new light. O light! This is the cry of all the characters of ancient drama brought face to face with their fate. This last resort was ours, too, and I knew it now. In the middle of winter I at last discovered that there was in me an invicible summer." -- Camus, Retour to Tipasa

The hopeless aesthetician, the one daring to dream amidst the chaos of an indifferent world, undoubtedly has a pathway to traverse. This journey may not lead to the grandiose notion of immortality, but at the very least personal salvation, a certain release from the pervasive dissatisfaction of the prelude to the satisfactory inner chapters. Thus, clearly, we are now not speaking of pure pleasure-indulging freaks, hedonists, masochists, nymphomaniacs, or fellow crop-rotationists, only concerned with the whims of life -- no, on the contrary, we are exposing the value of a higher aesthetician; the Mozarts, Shakespeares, de Goyas, and Socrateses, of our modern world.

II. Fidei superioris esthetician, fatum esthetician, fidei

No matter what, the higher aesthetician is bound to the path of the tragic hero. The hero is beyond ready to sacrifice themselves to the world, a pure universal act, yet, which, is tragical to the medullary cavity of the bone. Thus, this is not perfection, for in this personal commitment, and sacrifice, the only missing ingredient is the absolute, a self relating to itself through God, in essence, the Abrahamic knight of faith.

But a Kierkegaardian distinction is not my desired end for this brief contemplation. My main concern is whether the fate of the aesthetician, or rather of the higher aesthetician—one who flirts with the potential for faith—is ultimately death, a heroic yet evermore tragic demise.  This fate can be likened to that of the warrior, who stands resolute and prepared to sacrifice everything for the nation, wealth, pride, glory, or love. In a similar vein, the aesthetician prides himself in his practice, in other words, he is prepared to die for and unto such beauty—even if his art would be ignored in the illusionary world of tomorrow, even if only two were to read his prose, even if no man were to read his tender poems, even if his final act were to be to draw the landscapes of heaven with his very own blood while watching wrenched and in misery how his life was sucked out of himself alike the way Vlad the Impaler did to his unfortunate victims—he acknowledges and embraces that his very existence may culminate in an act of profound sacrifice. The aesthetician's heart beats in rhythm with the beauty he seeks to convey, and this beauty is worth every ounce of his being. Essentially this is the manifestation of immeasurable beauty. I do not think anything else has to be added.

My boat sailed long ago, empty across the sea, weeping and wailing I was left stranded on the beach, faith I could not muster, bravery even less."Someday" I cried, "someday", I was to be saved, by the grace of the Lord. And here I am now. Can't you see? What have I done, but patiently waited, despairingly prayed for salvation, and what has He answered than in decisive silence - and now I know my prayers, my hopes, my dammable soul has been salvaged - Now I have unweathered faith in your Grace. For you have spoken to me in utter silence, something no man, pagan or unfaithful beast could ever dream of doing. You have shown me immeasurable beauty, even though I have forsaken you. Your mercy has taught me to forgive your silence, and now I have subdued to complete obedience, unquestionable loyalty, and never-ending dedication; I have relinquished pain and anger, I have forgotten resentment and desires, and I have prolonged patience. And finally, I have given myself unto you, I have made my act of immeasurable beauty into an act of faith in you, you my Lord and Saviour, Holy Ghost and Jesus Christ. And you have granted me one more day. For yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. Amen.

~O.K