Lookin’ for the Next Best Thing

A student and lover of nature and of literature, I have forever been curious about man’s efforts to play God. If you do not believe in God, either forgive the conceit or move on to other reading material. I’m not looking for a theological debate here.

The point is, among all the great literature I have read as an English literature major and a lover of the written word, two short stories that have always captured my imagination and given me cause to contemplate were “The Birthmark” by Nathanial Hawthorne and “The Domain of Arnheim, or The Landscape Garden” by Edgar Allan Poe. The two relate stories of the pursuit of perfection.

In “The Birthmark,” as I recall, a scientist becomes obsessed with removing the birthmark from the otherwise perfect flesh of his beloved. Spoiler alert! It ends with her demise. “Arnheim,” likewise, explores man’s desire to improve on natural beauty in an effort to become closer to God. I can’t summarize it as well as this writer from the World of Poe blog:

Man, by improving the arrangements in nature, in a way that "shall convey the idea of care, or culture, or superintendence, on the part of beings superior, yet akin to humanity" can create "nature in the sense of the handiwork of the angels that hover between man and God." Perfecting these landscapes in our eyes – thus being able to see them as the angels do--brings us closer to these higher beings.

I am brought to these thoughts at 2 a.m. as I watch a Christmas movie (title purposely left unnamed) and start to arrange my Christmas decorations. I am in my second year in a tiny apartment, allowing little room for a traditional “live” tree (yeah, it’s actually dead by the time it becomes a holiday decoration, but we still call it “live” or “real”), so I am arranging the wire branches of a wee, three-foot artificial tree that have been compacted for storage since January. Artificial trees are, frankly, bollocks.

But here’s the source of my rumination: I recall attending a co-worker’s Christmas party several years ago and, seeing the incredibly “perfect” tree in his living room, asking if it was artificial. After all, such perfection only comes man-made from a box. Turns out the tree was real.

It’s true, no? Look in nature and it’s beauty often lies in its imperfection. The little nuances and peculiarities that abound in nature are precisely the allure of its beauty. The uniqueness of it is its divine glory.

And yet man fancies that his refined creations somehow surpass that which we find in the natural world. Sincerely, man makes a glorious attempt. But I think of the line in “Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade”: “Ask yourself, why do you seek the Cup of Christ? Is it for His glory, or for yours?”

Again, this is not a theological treatise. I guess I’m just noting that however perfect our substitutes for natural creations, they fall short. I would rather a genuine Charlie Brown Christmas tree (not the plastic, perfect production piece sold in Walgreens each year), you know, an earth-grown twig barely capable of bearing two bulbs and three lights, than the most aesthetically perfect faux fir known to man. 

In the meantime, I twist, tweak, bend and bow the twined branches of my three-foot faker to ready it for a strand of lights and the handful of personal ornaments (John Elway, Dan Marino, the Yellow Submarine and The Beatles and others) that I am left with after 22 years of marriage dissolved (not really kosher to hang the “Our First Christmas” ornaments anymore, eh?).

Next year I’ll reach for the perfection of imperfection.

p.s. I am clearly in a Christmas funk; just bought Christmas cards with glitter on them. I hate glitter. But they have polar bears, which are way cool, even if they’ve been commercialized with a little bottle of Coca-Cola in one’s paw. And I think polar bears really are the reason for the season. (Wink)

p.p.s. I seem to have lost my digital camera and my phone does poorly in low light. Hence the crappy photo quality.