I wonder how long people have had a sense of beauty. In both Zan-Gah books, I point out that the characters do not always have that capacity. Part of it was the harshness of their lives. People walking barefoot in the snow are not apt to comment on how pretty it is. It may be that they are awed by the power of nature (or their gods) to completely transform their environment and make it glistening white. So beauty and awe are connected. For Zan, beauty was a kind of awakening. There must surely have been moments so extraordinary visually that the rudest soul would be stirred, as was Zan-Gah. The perception of beauty would not be unmixed with the presence of plenty in some cases.
As a lover of beauty, I still have to admit that it is not very high on our list of needs. We need water, and to be fed. We need to be warm. We require a certain freedom from pain. And then we can satisfy our appetite for loveliness if that need ever has a chance to develop.
On the road the other day, we drove through a misty region of southern Iowa, and the conditions were exactly right for a gorgeous growth of frost to accumulate on every branch, so that they presented lovely patterns. Of course I didn't have my camera, so I can't post what I saw. There were not many trees in this part of the state, but one very large one stood alone near a place we had parked, and its beauty and symmetry made for one of the memorable experiences of a lifetime. But then it was over because we drove on—and pretty soon the weather conditions had changed and the trees weren't pretty anymore.
I think Zan-Gah would have liked that tree.
Allan
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