But I'm hopeful: I drank ginger tea, a home remedy I learned from Mommy when I was a little girl. It's simple: boil slices of ginger, add a lot of brown sugar to it, and drink it piping hot. I don't know if it really works, but there's no question it comforts. Comfort is what I really ache for more than a cure, and ginger tea has never failed me on that account.
Just meandered over to the Achoress, saw the pictures of snowflakes in which she saw Christ's perfection mirrored. While marveling over the geometric symmetry, I was struck by something I had mused on recently: what makes beauty?
Don't worry, I'm not that deluded as to stick my face in such a bottomless, not to say, murky, hotpot of aesthetic, philosophical, theological potion. After some years of hand-wringing, I've come to the affirmative side of the notion of beauty. I really don't need a dissertation in order to uphold that affirmation. But what an ever edgy, ever exhilarating topic for contemplation!
What I concluded was: for beauty to be manifest, there must be repetition. Obvious it is, I was still somewhat startled by my resoluteness. Repetition is one of the principles of design we learn, and teach others in art classes. Symmetry is the most typical and formal way to repeat a motif. There are other ways to repetition with variations of size, color, and texture.
To be true to my digressive mind, I have to quote Chesterton again (is there any subject this man did not put his million-dollar worth in? I'm reminded of Fr. Richard Neuhaus who admitted that there was scarcely anything he didn't feel compelled to comment on, shamelessly. But again I digress), on repetition:
"A child kicks its legs rhythmically through excess, not absence, of life. Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, "Do it again"; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough... It is possible that God says every morning, "Do it again," to the sun; and every evening, "Do it again," to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike: it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we."