The Beauty of Nature: A Philosophical Insight

Watts argues that the Chinese view of nature tends to be different than scientists view of nature.  

The fundamental Chinese idea of the order of nature is not compatible with formulation in the order of words, because it is organic, and is not linear pattern. In other words, when we think of beauty we know very clearly what beauty is, but it is absolutely impossible to write down a set of laws and rules that can show us how to create beautiful objects. And mathematicians, for example, often feel that certain equations, certain expressions are peculiarly beautiful. Because they are meticulous people, they try to think out exactly why they are beautiful, and ask if we could make up a rule or formula to describe when beauty will or will not appear. Although they have proposed the criteria of elegance as a new kind of proof to be considered, their general conclusion is that if we could make up a rule and apply it in mathematics, and if we could always by the use of this rule get a beautiful result, eventually those results would cease to impress us as being beautiful. They would become sterile and dry.

I must admit that I had a hard time understanding what Watts was saying here and had to turn to Google’s AI to explain the difference between an organic pattern and a linear pattern: 

An “organic pattern” is a design that mimics natural forms with flowing, curved lines and irregular shapes, often resembling elements found in nature like plants or rivers, while a “linear pattern” is a design composed of straight lines that follow a consistent, predictable path, creating a structured and orderly appearance; essentially, organic patterns are free-flowing and natural, whereas linear patterns are straight and organized. 

In a way, this reminds me that Plato favored abstract reasoning and introspection over empirical observation while Aristotle, on the other hand, stressed empirical observation and systematic study to understand the world, developing the scientific method, focusing on evidence and inductive reasoning to derive knowledge. I happen to favor Plato’s line of reasoning but would still have to concede that Aristotle’s form of reasoning is sometimes needed and, for better or worse,  has largely created our  modern world.

Like Watts I enjoy nature without needing to understand it or to analyze what I’m seeing. 

Many a time I have had intense delight listening to some hidden waterfall in the mountain canyon, a sound made all the more wonderful since I have set aside the urge to ferret the thing out, and clear up the mystery. I no longer need to find out just where the stream comes from and where it goes. Every stream, every road, if followed persistently and meticulously to its end, leads nowhere at all.

And this is why the compulsively investigative mind is always ending up in what it believes to be the hard and bitter reality of the actual facts. Playing a violin is, after all, only scraping a cat’s entrails with horsehair. The stars in heaven are, after all, only radioactive rocks and gas. But this is nothing more than the delusion that truth is to be found only by picking everything to pieces like a spoiled child picking at its food.

I can’t help but think that Watts is actually overstating his argument here. I took up birding because I thought that the birds were beautiful — and I still do.  However, it’s amazing how much I’ve learned about birds since I started birding seventeen years ago, much of what you would only find in a textbook otherwise. That knowledge has made me love birding even more, certainly not less,  than I originally did.  I’ve also met scientists while birding who are doing what they are doing because they love what they’re studying. So, I don’t think the two approaches are necessarily antithetical.  

I’ve long admired some forms of Far Eastern art, particularly Sumi-e, though I hadn’t given much thought to why they were painted the way they were. Watts explains why he thinks they are painted the way they are.

And this is also why the Platos of the Far East so seldom tell all, and why they avoid filling in every detail. This is why they leave in their paintings great areas of emptiness and vagueness, and yet the paintings are not unfinished. These are not just unfilled backgrounds, they are integral parts of the whole composition, suggestive and pregnant voids and rifts that leave something to our imagination. And we do not make the mistake of trying to fill them in with detail in the mind’s eye. We let them remain suggestive.

Watercolors have a lot of the characteristics he mentions and has always been my favorite art medium — yes, even more than photos.  When I have time, I often try to make my photographs look more like watercolors than photographs because I prefer the feeling that creates. I try to recreate what I remember seeing while birding, and I very seldom see things in the same detail that top-end cameras do.  Nor do I particularly want to. If I really want to see what a bird looks like up close, I can go to several different refuges that have stuffed birds like those found on the refuge.  That’s certainly not as beautiful as seeing them in their natural habitat.

Luckily you don’t have to totally agree with Watts says to agree when he says:

It was well said: “The mystery of life is not a problem to be solved, but a reality to be experienced.” The song of birds, the voices of insects are all means of conveying truth to the mind. In flowers and grasses we see messages of the Tao. The scholar, pure and clear of mind, serene and open of heart, should find in everything what nourishes him. But if you want to know where the flowers come from, even the god of spring doesn’t know.

Perhaps by embracing our naturalness and spontaneity and by recognizing the natural beauty that always surrounds us, we can reconnect with the Tao and find harmony within ourselves and the world around us.