As a child, beauty is simple, our ideals are simple. We find the lifelike, vividly detailed Da Vinci more appealing than surrealist Dali. We find the things that are pleasing to the eye beautiful. We see perfection as an ideal like getting a 100% on a test, or being eloquent, intelligent, graceful.
Now I realise that perfection isn't quite as simple as all that. Something that's too perfect actually loses some of its beauty, some of its perfection. Its flawlessness is an imperfection, and it makes it less interesting, less appealing. It's like the way master potters sometimes purposefully include flaws in their work. They could make perfect pots, the ideal pot, easily, yet they choose not to, because they see that perfection is also about the acknowledgement of flaws. In the same way, I realise that as much as striving to live up to the ideals of perfection, being perfect is also about the acknowledgement and acceptance of what is not perfect.
Actually, perfection is like dance. I once said that the most important aspect of ballet is balance. It's true for perfection. And balance doesn't mean taking the middle road, but allowing a dynamic equilibrium to occur as a result of the constant battle between the two extremes, striving for perfection, and your own imperfections.
Sunday, February 26, 2006
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Yet, life is beautiful
Shattered dreams and battered reality,
Yet, life is beautiful.
Crystalline palaces never to be built,
Yet, life is beautiful
as destruction by ripples of a revolution not
Yet, life is
a rose.
Yet, life
Remains while hope still springs
Yet,
we will have happiness
Yet.
Monday, February 13, 2006
Why I take physics
I've finally found an answer which satisifies my sentiments more eloquently than my own expression ever could:
Yep, physics is the manifestation of my obsession with the paradox of the simple and the complex.
"Physics is really nothing more than a search for ultimate simplicity, but so far all we have is a kind of elegant messiness - or as Lederman put it: 'There is a deep feeling that the picture is not beautiful.' "
- Bryson, 2003
Yep, physics is the manifestation of my obsession with the paradox of the simple and the complex.
Monday, February 6, 2006
Understanding simplicity
Some of you may know I have an ongoing obsession with simplicity, and the dynamics between simplicity and complexity. I finally realise what I haven't quite been able to put into words all this while: complexity is only as complex as your lack of understanding. Once you understand, everything will become simpler. The more you can understand, the more the elegant simplicity, the organising chaos, will reveal itself. I hope that the rambling complexities I have perpetuated are becoming clearer?
Sunday, January 22, 2006
Weird social practises: eating
You're not supposed to do obscene things in public - that's what your mother always told you. At least, you should avoid doing things that are unpleasant for other people to watch, in public. Like dig your nose. Or fart.
So I wonder, why isn't eating gross? If you think about it, eating should gross you out! I mean, who on earth would want to look at someone shove a utensil up his mouth, and chew? It's as bad as poking your finger in your nose and digging around for a booger.
But oh, no, eating is somehow un-gross. People actually make appointments to go and watch each other eat! People find it romantic to go out to dinner together.
At least we don't have to see what's in their mouths.
So I wonder, why isn't eating gross? If you think about it, eating should gross you out! I mean, who on earth would want to look at someone shove a utensil up his mouth, and chew? It's as bad as poking your finger in your nose and digging around for a booger.
But oh, no, eating is somehow un-gross. People actually make appointments to go and watch each other eat! People find it romantic to go out to dinner together.
At least we don't have to see what's in their mouths.
Sunday, January 15, 2006
Beauty ain't perfect
I was discussing the concept of beauty with Jenn the other day, and I realised that I needed to reconceptualise my idea of beauty. My sense of aesthetics has changed these past few years, a new revelation marking each progressive stage.
Initially, I thought that beauty was a series of ideals - the ideal figure, the ideal complexion. Beauty had to be absolutely flawless in every way, or at least, as flawless as it is possible to be in this imperfect world. I could classify very few people under this concept of beauty, and most aren't even alive today. Certainly none of my friends or the people I met everyday qualified as beautiful under this rigid dogma.
Then I began to see beauty in the everyday. Little things, but graceful and wonderful in their way: the cute upturn of nose, or the wonderfully expressive eyes. I started to realise that beauty is diverse. Although I still held onto my own ideals, but I became open to appreciating the deviations, which could be just as beautiful in their way. It was around this time that I began to realise just how beautiful a lot of my friends were.
After talking to Jenn, it dawned on me that beauty wasn't just about the exterior facade. I realised that part of the reason why I found my friends so beautiful was because of their character - their compassion, their honesty, their love - it all shone through on their faces, though perhaps it was not completely apparent to those who did not know them well enough to see it. But perhaps having to make the effort made the beauty all the more rare and beautiful. I realised that you just couldn't simply isolate the physical exterior from the inner one, something I thought it was possible to do all along.
Initially, I thought that beauty was a series of ideals - the ideal figure, the ideal complexion. Beauty had to be absolutely flawless in every way, or at least, as flawless as it is possible to be in this imperfect world. I could classify very few people under this concept of beauty, and most aren't even alive today. Certainly none of my friends or the people I met everyday qualified as beautiful under this rigid dogma.
Then I began to see beauty in the everyday. Little things, but graceful and wonderful in their way: the cute upturn of nose, or the wonderfully expressive eyes. I started to realise that beauty is diverse. Although I still held onto my own ideals, but I became open to appreciating the deviations, which could be just as beautiful in their way. It was around this time that I began to realise just how beautiful a lot of my friends were.
After talking to Jenn, it dawned on me that beauty wasn't just about the exterior facade. I realised that part of the reason why I found my friends so beautiful was because of their character - their compassion, their honesty, their love - it all shone through on their faces, though perhaps it was not completely apparent to those who did not know them well enough to see it. But perhaps having to make the effort made the beauty all the more rare and beautiful. I realised that you just couldn't simply isolate the physical exterior from the inner one, something I thought it was possible to do all along.
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Class act
It's finally dawned on me (I saw dawned on me as opposed to something like hit me because I am rather slow, and I don't think any of my thoughts would move fast enough to hit me) that language is the human way of classifying things. Classifying objects, people, ideas. Everything. We classify to communicate. Golly gee, right now, I am classifying!
It's a rather strange realisation, when you think about it. Everything we are saying is a classification. We understand things only through classification. Definition, explanation, organisation all stem from classification.
You may argue, how can that be? The only way I can reasonably continue my own argument is by defining my concept of classification, which is really just classifying the word using more classifications. Anyway, just for the record, my definition of classifcation is putting everything into some sort of category, or place, such that it will be potentially easier, or more convenient for us to grasp.
Maybe, the reason we will never be able to understand our universe is not because it is inifinite. Or at least, not just because of that. Maybe the reason we won't be able to understand it is because we cannot classify it. Perhaps a better statement might be: maybe the universe isn't meant to be understood. Because to understand it, or at least to understand it in a way in which it is possible for us to share our understanding, we must classify it. And we can't classify it because perhaps the universe just won't fit into our classifications. Just like some organisms won't fit properly into our plant and animal kingdoms, planting a foot into the plant kingdom, and another into the animal kingdom, our universe will never be able to fit nicely in whatever classifications, however evolved they may become, neatly.
It feels weird to think that all this time I've just been classifying...
It's a rather strange realisation, when you think about it. Everything we are saying is a classification. We understand things only through classification. Definition, explanation, organisation all stem from classification.
You may argue, how can that be? The only way I can reasonably continue my own argument is by defining my concept of classification, which is really just classifying the word using more classifications. Anyway, just for the record, my definition of classifcation is putting everything into some sort of category, or place, such that it will be potentially easier, or more convenient for us to grasp.
Maybe, the reason we will never be able to understand our universe is not because it is inifinite. Or at least, not just because of that. Maybe the reason we won't be able to understand it is because we cannot classify it. Perhaps a better statement might be: maybe the universe isn't meant to be understood. Because to understand it, or at least to understand it in a way in which it is possible for us to share our understanding, we must classify it. And we can't classify it because perhaps the universe just won't fit into our classifications. Just like some organisms won't fit properly into our plant and animal kingdoms, planting a foot into the plant kingdom, and another into the animal kingdom, our universe will never be able to fit nicely in whatever classifications, however evolved they may become, neatly.
It feels weird to think that all this time I've just been classifying...
Sunday, January 8, 2006
Poetry without words
We often describe movements, particularly dance movements, that are particularly graceful as poetry in motion. It's funny how we can grow up hearing and accepting phrases and quotes without really understanding their significance.
For instance, I only really just understood, in one of those 'Aha!' moments, the significance of the statement 'dance is poetry'.
Consider: the only words used in poetry are those which are succinct and eloquent, as well as inspired by life. In essence, that is what sums up dance. The movements used in dance are distilled from life.
Some poetry has rhyme and meter, but all poetry has rhythm, as does all dance.
But for all I have said I have not really touched the core similarity between these two. It's almost impossible to describe it, although it's wholly tangible. They both share a similar evanescent quality - performed in an instant, but remembered and immortalised for eternity. They are doses of life, of humanity, concentrated and refined into art.
For instance, I only really just understood, in one of those 'Aha!' moments, the significance of the statement 'dance is poetry'.
Consider: the only words used in poetry are those which are succinct and eloquent, as well as inspired by life. In essence, that is what sums up dance. The movements used in dance are distilled from life.
Some poetry has rhyme and meter, but all poetry has rhythm, as does all dance.
But for all I have said I have not really touched the core similarity between these two. It's almost impossible to describe it, although it's wholly tangible. They both share a similar evanescent quality - performed in an instant, but remembered and immortalised for eternity. They are doses of life, of humanity, concentrated and refined into art.
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Art as a paradigm for life
Different people have different conceptions of art. This is simple - different people live different lives. And art is life.
Human beings like to compartmentalise, organise, classify, stereotype things. But the thing about things is that they often refuse to be classified. That's why art is life and life is art, but not really.
Art is how you get people to see through new windows, new viewpoints, and live different lives, or just live their own lives better. Art is how you enrich people. A well-written account of an abused child (touch wood, you weren't/aren't one), allows you to experience what it is like, see things in a different light. It allows you to experience things you may not be able to experience in your life. You ponder, and get a bigger, broader perspective.
Art is about self-expression, self-discovery for the artist.
But really, art cannot exist in an artist until the artist has a life outside (used rather loosely - no artist can really be outside art) art. From this life, the artist draws upon the basics for art. It gives him the experience and foundation for his art. However, the artist's life in his art will teach him much also. But without this outside life, there is really nothing for the artist to draw parallels to. The two lives feed off each other, the are one and separate at the same time. They cannot be classified.
So yep, life is art, and art is life, for lack of a better word than is.
Perhaps the most important thing you can learn from art is that you cannot classify things. You just have to let them be the tangled inter-connected, interwoven network of things that they are. But, (and here comes my favourite line) within that complexity, sometimes you can find a startling simplicity. And, maybe by classifiying things, you are just making things more confusing, and further and further away from simplicity.
Everyone is an artist.
Human beings like to compartmentalise, organise, classify, stereotype things. But the thing about things is that they often refuse to be classified. That's why art is life and life is art, but not really.
Art is how you get people to see through new windows, new viewpoints, and live different lives, or just live their own lives better. Art is how you enrich people. A well-written account of an abused child (touch wood, you weren't/aren't one), allows you to experience what it is like, see things in a different light. It allows you to experience things you may not be able to experience in your life. You ponder, and get a bigger, broader perspective.
Art is about self-expression, self-discovery for the artist.
But really, art cannot exist in an artist until the artist has a life outside (used rather loosely - no artist can really be outside art) art. From this life, the artist draws upon the basics for art. It gives him the experience and foundation for his art. However, the artist's life in his art will teach him much also. But without this outside life, there is really nothing for the artist to draw parallels to. The two lives feed off each other, the are one and separate at the same time. They cannot be classified.
So yep, life is art, and art is life, for lack of a better word than is.
Perhaps the most important thing you can learn from art is that you cannot classify things. You just have to let them be the tangled inter-connected, interwoven network of things that they are. But, (and here comes my favourite line) within that complexity, sometimes you can find a startling simplicity. And, maybe by classifiying things, you are just making things more confusing, and further and further away from simplicity.
Everyone is an artist.
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
A moment of happiness
Many people around us think the secret of happiness can be found in self-help books, or on TV, or in the wise words of a friend, or teacher.
But they're not looking in the right place. If you look within yourself, you'll find that happiness come from within you. You don't need anyone or anything to help you find it, neither do you need anything to make you happy. It's just a part of you. As much a part of you as your heart beating, or breathing, but sometimes, things on the outside, like stress, and worry, and work just pile up so much you don't notice it anymore. Like when you don't pay attention, you don't notice your breathing, or your heart beating. However, if you just relax, you will notice these things. It's the same with happiness.
I found this out one day, when I was just sitting down with a book, enjoying the cool air conditioning, Haley Westenra's Pure album, apple juice and a dark chocolate mignonette. Nothing really out of the ordinary. But it was in this relaxed state of mind that I found my own real happiness, and not the transient, ephemeral kind.
Another thing about finding happiness, you have to discover it yourself. No one can really tell you how to get it. Part of hapiness is the joy in finding it. I may reveal this secret, and so may many other words of advice, but at the end of the day, as Mrs Tong might say, "it's all up to you, girls".
I'm getting back my prelim marks over these next two weeks. It may seem random, but it's not. Marks are one of those transient, ephemeral aspects of life which may bring you temporary happiness, or sadness. I've decided I'm going to enjoy the experience, relish the moments of worry, and find humour in moments of sadness, and of course, delight in the rare moments of gladness afforded to me.
But they're not looking in the right place. If you look within yourself, you'll find that happiness come from within you. You don't need anyone or anything to help you find it, neither do you need anything to make you happy. It's just a part of you. As much a part of you as your heart beating, or breathing, but sometimes, things on the outside, like stress, and worry, and work just pile up so much you don't notice it anymore. Like when you don't pay attention, you don't notice your breathing, or your heart beating. However, if you just relax, you will notice these things. It's the same with happiness.
I found this out one day, when I was just sitting down with a book, enjoying the cool air conditioning, Haley Westenra's Pure album, apple juice and a dark chocolate mignonette. Nothing really out of the ordinary. But it was in this relaxed state of mind that I found my own real happiness, and not the transient, ephemeral kind.
Another thing about finding happiness, you have to discover it yourself. No one can really tell you how to get it. Part of hapiness is the joy in finding it. I may reveal this secret, and so may many other words of advice, but at the end of the day, as Mrs Tong might say, "it's all up to you, girls".
I'm getting back my prelim marks over these next two weeks. It may seem random, but it's not. Marks are one of those transient, ephemeral aspects of life which may bring you temporary happiness, or sadness. I've decided I'm going to enjoy the experience, relish the moments of worry, and find humour in moments of sadness, and of course, delight in the rare moments of gladness afforded to me.
怎么去拥有一道彩虹
怎么去拥抱一夏天的风
天上的星星笑地上的人
总是不能懂不能知道足够
－《知足》，五月天
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