بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم
By the Name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful
I look at the blue vast sky, and I think it is beautiful. I wonder why I think that. I read a piece of writing, awhile ago, where the author argued that aesthetics are standardized, just like scientific facts are. Guess what? I disagree. Aesthetics and beauties are not standardized. May be there are ideas that people agree on, but they are not standards. Some people look at a piece of art and speaks to them; it tells them a story, and reminds them with an experience that they have been through. Others look at them and think, “what a piece of trash.” Both things happened to me.
I was finishing my homework in applied math course, where we had to draw the phase diagram of some differential equation, which is just a graph if you want to know. It was ugly and unpleasant to the eyes–wavy lines and arrows that are scrambled together– but only from one angle. From the other angle, it is a beautiful piece of art that represents a seemingly lifeless equation; it was also the off spring of my mind, the product of my efforts, and the end of my pursuit. I felt happy, regardless of its insignificance–well I’m childish, and I don’t care. But that gets the mind thinking, “why is the blue sky beautiful?” I think because it represents life and freedom. Everybody loves to be free and alive. I guess that is it. Ideas that are provoked, consciously or not, are what makes beautiful things beautiful. I went one step ahead of myself. To see where that can go from here.
I have ugly friends. Not all of them are ugly, but I do have some. I’m, too; I’m ugly. However, when I see them, they are beautiful–not really, but I’m very happy to see them. I guess that what happens. When we love someone, they become the standard of beauty. They are beautiful, perfect, and flawless. Whatever isn’t them, is not as beautiful. Yes, we would see flaws in them, sometimes, and try to correct them, but upon a glance, there is nothing but beauty. This is how I examine whether I love someone or not. If they have a clear flaw that my little brain can see, I conclude I don’t love them. But, hey, most people are beautiful–to an extent. I guess I love them all–to an extent. That reminds me with something else. There is am Arab poet who once said something that is along the lines of “If you love, love to an extent; for you don’t know if you are tearing it out. If you hate, hate for an extent; for you don’t know if you come back.” So, be careful whom you love. You don’t want to beautify an evil thing.
If I made a mistake, it’s due to me and the shaytan. If I was correct, it’s due to Allah.
In fact, all thanks are due to Allah, the Merciful.