On Sublimity: religion and nature (Zizek, 228-30)
“The prince says that beauty will save the world!” One of Dostoevsky’s famous phrases with various interpretations. The transformative nature of beauty or the picturesque projection. Such optimism in the hedonistic outlet is overhauled. Beauty will instead destroy the world. Sublimity will save the world.
Burke distinguished between beauty and the sublime as the small and the big things. Kant added overwhelming to the sublime as opposed to the nice beautiful things. For Zizek through a Lacanian lens sublime is boundless while beauty is bound. Beauty is harmonic while the sublime is chaotic. In the footsteps of Kant, sublime is the overwhelming terror. Beauty is the material as it is perceived to the naked eye while the sublime is the unutterable in the face of aspiration. Unable to voice the experience. The encounter overwhelming. Engulfed in the absurd breath of serenity. A matrix of sonic melody. Possessed by the experiential horror. It is the great force over the feeble finitude. The mortal gasping at the unutterable. Incapable of grasping its prowess. Beyond his comprehension perplexes his prefrontal cortex. Firing endorphins but cannot deduce their messages. Bound to the encounter with no explanation.
Beauty doesn’t elevate to the prestige of the sublime. The sublime is a special place, a heaven of sorts that beauty only dreams of reaching. It is the surface level everyday niches. The niceties in the routine. It stands out against the ugly. It is no sewer rat. Beauty is poised. Crafty, well dressed and firm. Attractive to the passerby catching his gaze and she continues. She doesn’t look back but feels the gaze on her neck. She feels the stares and smiles. She looks good and she knows it. She is not obtuse nor ignorant. She is a masterpiece held with grace. Eyes lingering unable to tear away from his coercive sight. She is truly special. No doubt about her uniqueness. There is much to praise about her. She is sure enjoyable to observe. She enjoys all the fame that accompanies her appearance. She radiates light and chanting for her reciprocates her confidence. A projection of perfection fond to the eye. Caught up in her picture. She is truly amazing. Wowed by presentation. Jaw dropping and fascinating.
She is respected to a degree. She is marvelled at but is passed by. She is a static projection that is forgotten after a few moments. Her memory is lost in the neurological tanks. Beauty is invading but is only so powerful as the stares persist. Beauty is powerful, she is captivating but her will is received. She wanders and hopes that people look. A slow day and there is nothing. A good day may receive grand gestures and applause but then the visitors leave. Beauty makes her way down busy streets but is just a face in the crowd. She does not amply receive the necessary looks she desires. Her shiny personality is infective insofar as the onlooker is concentrated on her, his phone rings and his focus gone. She has lost his attention. He is out of her sight and unaware of her presence. Sometimes she is on display other times disregarded. Her beauty is unparalleled but she must be noticed. She relies on others to acknowledge her but if they are not focusing they will not see her.
Beauty relies on the other. It is entirely dependent on another’s urge for beauty. Do they look? Do they linger? Beauty can exist without others but who will compliment her? The tree in the forest may make a sound but if no one is there to hear it, does it really matter? Her beauty is almost insignificant if it isn’t utilised. What enjoins the energy and even the relevance in acknowledgement. Praising her for her gorgeous appearance. Lines drawn so smoothly coloured so creatively. There is little that she desires more than other’s speaking positively of her. Her self-esteem is contingent on reciprocated optimism. The other is fascinated by beauty and smiles at her. He compliments her eying her as she passes his field of vision. He is marvelled by her beauty. Another after him sees her and feels an uplifting sensation. Endorphins firing at her glorious presence. Each compliment visually or verbally sufficiently elevates her self-esteem. She minds nothing but the positive reactions. It is the interest of the other that keeps her guessing that keeps her active.
Her appearance is only as appealing as others believe she is. Beauty receives positive responses from some but others pass her by with no comment. Many ignore her presence while others retort at her appearance. Her beauty is subjective and individualised. Some see her in the angelic light and others revile at her existence. It is an acquired taste. Not everyone is fascinated by her beauty. Not everyone wishes to gaze indefinitely. Some find her appearance enjoyable for the moment. Even those who stare only a few are infatuated, less love. She is a site to see but in free time. Most others are busy. They do not have time to stare. A quick peek. A curious look but must be on their way. An enjoyable activity but temporary. They continue on never looking back. It was an interesting exhibit, nothing of note to remember. Others pass her by everyday and praise her. Beauty has a loyal following but they are few and far between. Less commitment and more periodic enjoyment. She can captivate some but many are unaffected by her charm. They smile at the lovely maiden tip their cap and head to work. Only a few linger.
The lingering few desire her. Obsessive to some degree. Beauty is enjoyed by a hypnotic spell. She has gained the attention of passersby but other aspects of life have overpowered her spell. She attempts to reassert her prestige but loses in the battle of the absurd life. The mind is too preoccupied with more important parts of life and thus cannot truly focus on her. Maybe in simpler times she would be more well received. She would be more appreciated. Times are tumultuous. Life is rough. She is a fine specimen to gaze from time to time but not something to hark on. She is some eye candy for quick pleasure. A temporary nicety but not something to bemoan forever. She picks her spots. Some areas are more infective than others. Toying with the other’s mind torturing him with the magnificent that stands before him. At times, he acts uncontrollably. He acts impulsively hurting her and damaging himself. Her attraction has tugged at his soul and confused his mind with despotic urges. He is infected and cannot look from afar. He must have more and deals damage. Beauty has victimised herself.
How often does the other stop in the street? His desire flares as he sees the most incredible specimen across from him. He is lost in his thoughts. All the complexity is soothed by her appearance. Beauty has salvaged another soul. She is obsessed about and all the others desire to have her. With little distraction she is the centre of attention. Her desire to be enjoyed from afar has shortened. Others have encroached closer to her. Here magnificence has infected them drawing them closer. They are under the spell of her beauty desiring to have her in any capacity. Beauty is scared. She has objectified herself and now is being objectified. She has become the object of their imagination. If they can have her to stare at forever how lucky they’d be. What a lucky winner. It isn’t all nefarious but incredibly irritating. She is as she is. Beauty is but her incredible self. The desire is projected on her. A target ready to fire. She has lost her stage distance. She is on a mantel but one that the other wishes to hold to his whims.
The other becomes Gollum polishing the ring muttering my precious. Obsessive with the gem wishing to control it. The inability to part with the shiny circle. It is the meaning projected on it. It is an overwhelming sight that is difficult to imagine without. He is corrupted by her beauty. While at first he was amazed by her beauty he kept staring. He failed to check his phone nor head to work. Hypnotised by her precious appearance. Defeating a foe for her honour. He wishes to possess her. Grabbing at the air hoping to hold her tight. Beauty herself desires distance. She is her subject not to be compelled by the other’s lust. She has become the object of controversy. Her relevance is in the visual paradise that she instils. How to look away from an angel. She has been regulated to a possession that can be bought. Her prestige lost. Beauty has written her own fate. Her existence is but a curse upon the heart of man. His desire claims her for his own. When she is noticed she deals damage and when she is ignored she offers nothing.
Beauty differs from Sublime. Sublime does not stand in street hoping for passersby to notice her. She does not desire onlookers. She cannot be found by the other so easily. She hides and waits for the other to find her. She is passive and modest. She resides in the uncivilised war. She prefers the natural over the industrial. Sublime cannot be observed nor noticed. Most people will go through their lives and fail to encounter her more than a few times. She meets her prey for a quick moment and hurries along. She is so powerful than only for a moment can the other meet her. She is overwhelming and disorienting. Her appearance is not figuratively angelic but literally so. She is of the stars of the incompressible. She is not a god nor an overpowered hero but a simple hermit with extraordinary beauty. Her appearance is way too much for the commoner. She deserts to the remote areas of the natural showcase to live peacefully. Only the brave journeymen will be able to find her. She hides but she is happy to greet vibrant visitors.
The journeymen do not expect to meet her. She left the village many years ago. Tales of her existence out in the remote areas are only folklore. She is but a story. A fascination to intellectuals and a fairytale to children. Yet she is indeed real. She lies in wait for visitors to come across her path. When they have reached the peak she attacks them. Scaring them into awe. Her presence so overwhelming they cannot speak. They are frozen, frostbitten, numb to her presence. They are paralysed into submission. Her strength is unmatched. Even warriors succumb to her might. Her attack is a gift. A reward for achieving the peak. Sublime is truly something. Stuck in place completely transformed. The journeymen take a few moments to gather themselves. They look at one another and scream the legend is true. She is alive. High fiving one another. One says look and they turn the eyes toward the horizon and are blow away. They are mesmerised. Muttering under their breath of angelic truth crossing themselves in praise. She claps as they tremble. She enjoys their patronage and respect. They descend the mountain anew.
The journeymen return and tell of their tales. They speak of her in abstract terms. Their memories become foggy and slowly forget her presence. They recall the view but not the power of her might or her paralysis. They saw beauty but they dumb it down. Unable to honestly recall the truth. Gradually her truth becomes a tall tale once again. New adventures happen upon her territory. She awaits them at the top. Can they surpass the difficult journey upward. Many fail depressing her greatly. She hasn’t played in a while and is lonely. She awaits her friends. She wishes to engage another soon. Her wish comes true as a set of hikers successfully reach her. She repeats her routine and captures them in a powerful hug. The damage is done and they are excited and astonished. They do not know what to make of it. They laugh and wave goodbye as they leave. Sublime is ecstatic. More visitors. Yet the process repeated itself. Her power is god-like. It is overwhelming and forgetful. In the moment it is shocking but afterwards invigorating. The hikers forget her but they always feel tingling when they recall the event. Their bedtime story causes a spasm that they cannot explain.
Sublime spends most of her time in the countryside but she returns to the city sometimes. She especially loves weddings. She has always desired to be a bride. She wishes to marry and adores celebrations. She shows up just to shed a tear when the bride begins her walk to the canopy. She stands right behind her so excited for her big day. The grooms stares at his fiancé’s beauty and a rush of awe fills his eyes. He sees her alongside his future-wife. He is shocked and paralysed by her overwhelming beauty. He hopes this moment will never end. He indulges in the wondrous encounter. She has blessed the union and he is ready to accept his wife. Sublime smiles as the groom tears in manly gesture of bravado. He cannot look away, he is unable to turn his head. He is focused on her, obsessed in her presence from afar. Another win for Sublime as she takes her seat in the crowd. She loves bringing people together. He magic touch engulfs the emotional core with the subject. A wonder of mental fortitude that surpasses the boundaries of logical explanation. Her beauty becomes of the gods.
Sublime isn’t interested in attracting attention. She is just having fun. She enjoys bettering other people’s day. She enjoys shooting her spells a little over here and some more over there. A little witchy but her wand is a personal charm. When others aren’t willing to come to see her she gets lonely and wishes to see how the village is faring. People are too busy too focused on the next job. They don’t even see Beauty. When she is feeling sympathetic she shines a light on a Beauty to enlarge her appearance. Sublime’s magic entices some passersby but Sublime recognises the danger and limits the ray. She doesn’t want Beauty to get hurt accidentally. She knows her powers are are strong so she keeps her distance but she cannot stay away forever. She has her moments but much of her time is in the openness of nature. Not tied down by any village industrial routines. Free to play and do whatever she wants. She enjoys the freedom and the autonomy it brings. She radiates in the open air. A blissful sensation surrounds her exhilarating scent. A scent that can be smelt but cannot be experienced without reaching her atop the mountain.
Her displeasure with the village was their seeming abandonment of her. Unlike Beauty, she was completely forgotten. Whilst they may ignore Beauty at least they know she is alive, they do not feel that way about Sublime. They think her a myth. Discarded her from their memories. She walked around the village but no one noticed her. Her frequent wedding invitations went unnoticed except by the groom who immediately forgot her after the ceremony. For a moment she meant something. Something to a single person but that person only saw her as a means to his future. Sublime was but a faint idea in the villagers' minds. They were so engulfed in their own worlds they could not dare to remember her. She was their aid and their wisdom. She provided inspiration and tranquility. The village industrialised. Her insights were no longer needed. She was outcasted blackballed for her ideas. Her witchcraft was blasphemed and burned. In fear she fled. She hid away for some time. When returning, the villagers did not remember her. She was a ghost and walking spirit. She couldn’t be seen. She was lost and invisible to the naked eye.
She couldn’t approach, she could only be approached. She could be encountered but under specific conditions. Only with perfect concentration could an individual encounter her. Yet the encounters were overpowering and fearful. Experiencers were shocked and demoralised. Her friends became lost souls. They ignored her calls and sought to distance themselves burying themselves in the industrial world. Less access meant less friends. Sublime left the city in tears and searched for a new place to spend her wallowing days. She was hurt but not defeated. She found a mountaintop. Surely, those who climb will be worthy friends. Strong in character and ferocious to encounter gleefully. Sublime awaited her friends patiently. Her luck panned out and they came. They enjoyed the moment and left imprinted with her scar. When they didn’t come back she grew sad but soon realised her power was beyond the pale. She became content with the scar imprinted in their memory banks. They may not consciously remember but their tattoo says otherwise. She had so many friends even if they did not remember too adequately.
Even so, her friends spoke of her in majestic narrativity. Her tale spread far and wide. Her friends did not recall the overwhelming moments of serenity but they felt transformed and taught their children the truth of Sublime. Her amazing prowess and grace. She was a living legend even if she was hardly recognised for her true ability. Sublime was happy with those who journeyed to face her. Those who desired to meet her. She was famous. Even those who didn’t know of her were happy to have met her. She always left a positive mark. She was loveable and encouraging. Her wisdom and aid never faded. All who came to her were greeted and beloved. She wrapped herself around her guests and hugged them tightly. Embracing all who came to her. It is was the least she could offer them. She was famous. Though the mountain itself got all the credit. She was a ghost. She was an idea, a feeling. Something to feel at the peak of the mountaintop. She was the electricity powering the profound view of the horizon. The mountaintop was but a foundation for the overwhelming sensational greeting.
Some time later, a mystic fed up with the industrial life deserted the village. He was searching for something. He couldn’t put his finger on it but he knew he could only find it away from the matrix of work. A world of endless labour and infinite items. Such was the world of civilisation. A world of routine and habit. One cursed to recycle the same old hobbies with new functions. Creatively spinning new products to capture the mind. How Beauty was excelling. Her products were falling off the shelves in droves. She simply retooled the same idea over and over. She was a mastermind. The desires of man were all too powerful. Beauty had escaped the savage life of late night crossings for the merchandise industry. People were simple just provide a nicety and people will drool over it. The mystic couldn’t bear the adornment. It was too overbearing. There needed to be something more. Something more than the a pretty watch or necklace. Trying to please or appease.
The mystic found a quiet spot in the forest and began meditating. He was a bit impatient and found the stillness too burdensome so he stood and began wandering around whistling. Admiring the beauty around him. Nature was pretty cool. No need to cover the dull with profound colouring. It was normal and unique. It didn’t look too much nor out of place. He felt comfortable and soothed. Whistling became singing and then dancing. Sublime heard of his exploits and curiously descended the mountain to meet this interesting man. She found him sitting by a tree trunk humming an old folk tune. Their eyes met. He shook as if a lion hurled at him. He fearfully retreated into a cocoon. Sublime promised him she wouldn’t hurt him. He accepted her peace offering and praised her. He asked her to meet again and she agreed. The next day she did not show. The mystic waited and waited but he didn’t find her. Maybe she had given up on him. Maybe she had lied to him or had second thoughts. The experience was so great that he desired it again. He wished to meet her again so badly. He trained his mind and meditated. He hummed and danced. Clearing his mind and concentrating on his friend.
Then one day, it happened. Sublime reappeared. He flung backwards as she tackled him. He was not used to her presence but found it riveting. She hadn’t moved in months. She had waited for him. She found a friend who desired her as much as she desired him. He jerked tearfully that Sublime was dedicated to their friendship. She had so much to offer and he to her. They met everyday. Sometimes they’d connect other times their chemistry was off. It was a matter of the connecting to the right voltage or the correct server. It wasn’t easy and was all on the mystic to push through the boundaries but he was committed. The mystic was overwhelmed but inspired. Sublime showed him much and he re-conceived his outlook. His world was turned nightside up. He found clarity that had been missing for ages. He was lost but now he felt whole. She had filled the hole in his heart. A missing piece reconnected and rekindled. He believed she could help others. He explained he would tell of her tale and bring back others for her educate. He waved goodbye and promised he’d return with a following. More friends for Sublime.
The mystic returned impassioned and transformed. He began speaking to some about his new worldview. Most ignored him some refuted but a few enjoyed his tales. He spoke of Sublime to a niche group. Many who were annoyed or overburdened by the industrial ethos. Looking for a new path. Willing to take a risk. He wished to preach publicly but believed that would stir most hostility. He returned to the forest with a small group. His group was confused that there was no one there but the mystic reassured his new friends that they would soon meet her. The mystic taught his ways some were successful some grew impatient and left. Others angrily quested their own methods and excelled. The mystic’s group grew and became unified with Sublime. Her presence was felt and enjoyed. A wave of serenity engulfed the spirits of the committed group. The mystic’s pupils wished to continue sublime’s messaging. Wishing to connect them with her from anywhere. An aspiration for Sublime to become more famous. Sublime countered that it wasn’t to be a massive calling but a recognition from one to the other. By seeing others beyond the presence.
Nevertheless, They rushed back to the village so excited to educate the public. They reached the city and forgot the education. One look at Beauty and they were thrown back into their former place. All their education was for naught. Ready to disseminate the message but overridden by Beauty’s impulse. Their message was quickly replaced with the shiny adornment. They were soon engulfed in the merchandising experience. The enjoyable desire of the projected object. Sensing the benefit of the object as it mounted in their palms. Beauty provided the soma necessary to survive. Do not worry this will improve mindfulness. They were naive and lost. The mystics pupils were deserters, hypnotised unable to relay their message. The mystic himself tried to regather his lost pupils but they were far gone. Beauty has spellbound them. Beauty’s calvary ran the mystic out of town. He returned to the forrest dismayed. Sublime tried to cheer him off but he wasn’t trying to connect. His view was riddled with emotional turmoil imbalanced and depressed. He could not be the only one who saw the truth. He could never go back. His pupils were on track but were nowhere near his prestige nor awareness. He was alone in the universe with Sublime.
Sublime is an overwhelming feeling of bliss. Caught in a temporal experience of beyond-ness. The sublime is veiled in the industrial areas. It is not the basic beauty that is noticed nor the shiny polished money grabbing items that attract attention. What is beautiful is what the individual can grasp. It is a desirable outcome to hold. Sublime is the aspirational mould. It defies the expectation. It is the momentous view of a waterfall or a valley from a mountain top. It is the unexpected that transitions to the wow moments. The real is too much to bear. It is the wonder of the world so routinely hidden from plain sight. Only out in nature, only away from the life-sucking routine, can it be enjoyed. So unexpected the sublime attacks overwhelming the individual. A force striking the spirit, electrifying the mind towards the serenity of the horizon. A paralysis that is eased into the mystery of the world. They mystery uncovered is more than bargained for. What is truly marvellous is that simplicity that garners so much joy. So much glee engenders spasms and choked up tears. The peace wonder brings is the normative nature. It doesn’t shine but it is bright as a star.
The beauty of the other is the semantic projection of appearance. The sublime is the deeper layer of personality tied with integrity. People radiate. Those who love and smile thoroughly. Those who enjoy life and bring joy to others. It isn’t about activity but proactivity. It is the joy of otherness and making it known. The sublime is the moments of genuine sparkles shining. A face of gold is one glowing with delight. The bride’s face to the groom and guests is different. The guests see her makeup enhancing her beauty. The groom sees her totality imprinted on her face. Her face radiating light of warmth and love. Their gaze linked with passion and impression. The sublime anchors the experience. It is not about how something looks but how it feels. How it manifests internally. How the narration elevates and expands. The sublime is a holistic doctrine. It is empowers and exceeds. The sublime is not rooted in a worldly endeavour but in an otherworldly connection. An unconscious telepathic link to humanity. De-rationalised reactivity. Enjoying the moment instead of pondering the next. Living instead of questing.
As the mystic taught, do not see the tree for the tree but for the soul it inhibits. The entire world lives on two axis. There is the material beauty and the spiritual sublime. The perception of the material beauty concerns the tree for its utility while the sublime sees it for its existence. The soul of the tree is a manifestation of the universe. It is rooted in the core of its foundation. An important part of Earth’s ecosystem while also providing positive functions for humanity. The tree provides oxygen and pastures. Homeostasis for other living animals and guards against sunlight. The soul of tree is unified in the Earth’s core alongside the human. Both live and die. Both mortals with destinies. Goals and souls. To respect the world is not devolve into some ascetic monk but to be conscious of the spiritual avenue. The world is more than just a material beast. It has much to offer and connects all lifeforms. There is but a single universe with living things to dwell. Harmony is only achieved if the soul is perceived. If appearances pierce a little deeper than the ogled beauty. Can’t stop short of the puzzled poison.
Sublime is the level above beauty. Beauty ought not to be discarded but realised in a new light. Perceived through the subliminal projection. Articulating beauty as a whole with all the variables accounted for. A marvel indeed. A genuine picture of reality that captures its essence in a montage of footage. Beauty is channeled through a purified medium. A spiritual guide to re-ordain beauty in its heightened form. Pleasure through displeasure. The grit and muddy terrain. The true beauty of unity, passion and hope.
