"Because the world is so corrupted, misspoken, unstable, exaggerated and unfair, one should trust only what one can experience with one's own senses, and this makes the senses stronger in Italy than anywhere in Europe. This is why, Barzini says, Italians will tolerate hideously incompetent generals, presidents, tyrants, professors, bureaucrats, journalists and captains of industry, but will never tolerate incompetent opera singers, conductors, ballerinas, courtesans, actors, film directors, cooks, tailors...In a world of disorder and disaster and fraud, sometimes only beauty can be trusted."-Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat Pray Love
So I'm reading the book, and these few sentences give me pause. Perhaps it's the "trust" word.
From my earliest memory, there was chaos and suspicion in my life. One day, someone could be stalwart, benevolent, and solid as a rock. The next, that same person might violate me unspeakably. A tender, loving presence might burst into hysteria and anger.
And also, from my earliest memories, I was hungry for beauty...for an image, for a story, for a particular intensity in feeling that lifts me from myself, makes me someone else, somewhere else.
Gilbert's ruminations on Italian sensuality, though, had nothing to do with me really...it took some reflecting to figure out why I had to read it, and read it again, and read it even more. It's that idea, I guess, of how beauty and art can become so very important when everything else is so shaky...and also how we might come to accept the unacceptable when it's all we've known...and not only accept it, but expect it.
Because he's beautiful to me and because he shares my passion for art and creativity and beauty--because his aesthetics and mine line up so well--I tolerate lying, stealing, manipulation, and insecurity from my husband. Because the world is insecure, unstable, shifting and disconcerting, I look to beauty as the only thing that's true, as the most important thing. And because so many people have proven to be unreliable and unstable, I accept that kind of behavior from anyone.
So what does that mean, though? Is this an insight into something I need to fix? Is this an insight into something that's true, and it just is true, and that's enough? I keep having all these little epiphanies, but I'm never sure of what I'm supposed to do with them.
From my earliest memory, there was chaos and suspicion in my life. One day, someone could be stalwart, benevolent, and solid as a rock. The next, that same person might violate me unspeakably. A tender, loving presence might burst into hysteria and anger.
And also, from my earliest memories, I was hungry for beauty...for an image, for a story, for a particular intensity in feeling that lifts me from myself, makes me someone else, somewhere else.
Gilbert's ruminations on Italian sensuality, though, had nothing to do with me really...it took some reflecting to figure out why I had to read it, and read it again, and read it even more. It's that idea, I guess, of how beauty and art can become so very important when everything else is so shaky...and also how we might come to accept the unacceptable when it's all we've known...and not only accept it, but expect it.
Because he's beautiful to me and because he shares my passion for art and creativity and beauty--because his aesthetics and mine line up so well--I tolerate lying, stealing, manipulation, and insecurity from my husband. Because the world is insecure, unstable, shifting and disconcerting, I look to beauty as the only thing that's true, as the most important thing. And because so many people have proven to be unreliable and unstable, I accept that kind of behavior from anyone.
So what does that mean, though? Is this an insight into something I need to fix? Is this an insight into something that's true, and it just is true, and that's enough? I keep having all these little epiphanies, but I'm never sure of what I'm supposed to do with them.
