Meliora sunt ea quae natura quam illa quae arte perfecta sunt (see below)

Lately, I am much convinced that the world that is portrayed in the "eyes" with which we process the world (television, the internet and the like) has but one purpose and but one design. The purpose is to have us see a threatening world all about us where doom and apocalypse is but a heartbeat away. The design appears, at least to me, based on the sad fact of human nature in the 21^st century that tragedy and calamity are better "draws" for attention (and, thus, advertisement revenue) that the stories of extraordinary human goodness, kindness and generosity.

You see, this has evolved in our age because there is some stark, cold science behind this perversion of the senses. Casino owners learned long ago, much before scientists actually proved their observations in the laboratories, that an impression of chaos through sensory overload will cause humans to behave in very predictable ways. In the midst of flashing lights, ringing bells and electronic noise (preferably loud and wildly syncopated) and crowds of other people, humans become - for lack of a better phrase - disconnected from reason. They make bad decisions (usually to bet more money than they ever attended) and almost fall into a zombie-like state of repetitive behavior. As the casino owners knew long ago, this keeps the suckers at the tables and the slots longer and as everyone knows, if they are at the tables longer, the house always wins.

If my reasoning is correct, it makes sense for the broadcast media to adopt the same approach in peddling their wares (and make no mistake, educating and informing their viewers is not the business they are in). Abandoning the measured, learned and incisive "Walter Cronkite Approach," when news was thoroughly reported and given meaning, the contemporary news media consists of 2-3 minutes per story, a couple of hurried sound bites (always out of context; usually nonsensical) and, then, whoosh! Off to the next story. No analysis, no linkages to other, related developments, just slam, bam, thank you, ma’am. After 3 or 4 tragedies or crises or celebrity meltdowns, complete with colorful, flashing graphics, it is off to a 4 minute commercial break. No wonder our reasoning is addled, our judgement disintegrated and we actually see no reason to laugh when an announcer authoritatively proclaims "If it wasn’t true, we couldn’t say it on TV!" The psychology of the casino truly has come to all our media sources. No wonder Americans feel a unrelenting sense of unease, often bordering on overt clinical anxiety syndrome. And, similarly, it is little wonder that we actually are so sadly misinformed. With all the "noise," who could extract anything useful, much less important.

Abandoning, regrettably, the idyllic days of Edward R. Murrow and Cronkite, the broadcast media has sunk into a cesspool of disinformation, designed to titillate but not enrich. I recall John Adams’ description (paraphrased) of Thomas Paine’s publication of "Common Sense" (1776): "He seems much better at tearing down than at building up". Our "electronic eyes" (since we seem to rely on none other for reality or truth) are very skilled at tearing down and endeavor to eschew the depiction of truth, virtue or beauty. For, if we were allowed to perceive beauty and calm our minds with that image, then who would feel strangely compelled to buy the latest, greatest answer for weight loss or the best tasting breath mint? But, then, that is just be my opinion.

Yet, the beauty of nature and the goodness of mankind reside all around us. There is meaningful truth to be discerned - beyond the chaos and the horror that the media would have you distracted by. As a trivial example, just last evening, I was shopping at a local mall. This venue is situated at the outskirts (that is, beyond the smog and haze) of my fair city. It had been a beautiful early spring day, the thermometer edging above the 60s and the sky a vista of azure blue sky. A gentle breeze invigorated my companion and I every time we made the short trek from store to store. It was a day when you knew - you needn’t "believe" or "hope", nor was it required that you "accept on faith" - that, truly, God was in His heaven, all was right with the world. Fittingly enough, it was also Easter Weekend, that glorious time of self-reflection and acknowledgment of all the blessing we are heir to. As we readied for our departure, packages in tow, we headed for the car. We adopted a leisurely walking pace as, for once, neither of us were in any hurry to get anywhere in particular. These occasions are rare enough and we, both, enjoyed the chance to walk in quiet and simply drink in the dawning twilight.

Just before reaching the car, my companion suddenly stopped. She didn’t speak, at least not at first; she simply tugged my hand, gently, as if steadying a puppy on a leash. I looked at her, wondering why we were stopping short of our vehicle, and I noticed she was smiling and staring intently at the western sky. Her smile was much like that of a young child seeing the grandeur of the ocean for the first time or surprised by an exotic animals at the zoo. It was an expression that was equal measures of wonder and awe. What, I wondered, could possibly be that interesting in the midst of a shopping mall’s parking lot? And, more relevantly to the male of the species, are there any cars fast headed our way?

Priorities first. Once I had assured myself that we were not in any imminent danger from some addled teenager behind the wheel of 2000 pounds, barreling in haste to wherever, I finally allowed my line of sight to coincide with hers. We were both staring at one of the most beautiful sunsets I had ever seen. The sun, from what I could tell, was just about to reach the horizon which, by the way, was one of those beautiful hills found just at the most Southern tip of the Appalachian Mountains just as they fade away toward the coastal plain. The hill-become-horizon was uncluttered by the intervention of man or his "progress"; the summit was nothing but bright green pine trees, awakening to the warmth of spring. I say "from what I could tell" in referring to the sun’s position because it was completely obscured by clouds. The color that dominated the view that evening, though appearing to be from the airy clouds, was, in fact, borrowed from the reclining sun. The usually pallid clouds, grateful for the gift of light, gave thanks to their benefactor by endeavoring to amplify the sun’s limited pallet. They transformed the radiance of our star into something truly brilliant and, in the eyes of at least one man, most memorable.

From the simple radiance they were given, the clouds took it upon themselves to paint the western sky as a canvas that would have done any earthly artist proud. They made yellows befitting daffodils in early bloom, oranges which would have made molten lava blush in envy and wispy pinks that are found only in the cheeks of shy young girls. The panorama of colors were spread - densely near their source and spiraling, kaleidoscope-like outward from the retreating sun - over fully a third of that evening’s sky. It was as if nature was proclaiming to those few who deign abandon their artificial eyes to use their own, if only briefly: "What think ye of me?"

The clouds of that spring’s evening could not adequately reproduced by any high-def plasma display; the spectacle that was that fading day’s panorama was meant for one screen only: the retina of man. Only on that screen would those simple, inanimate wisps of water vapor truly give up their beauty and magnificence. And all they asked of those who took the time to gaze upon their miracle of refraction and deflection was to borrow, for a time, our own eyes and our imagination. Their glory and pageantry would be our reward for this small exchange.

So, now and then, avert your gaze from the sordid world that our "artificial eyes" would have you believe is all there is of the world around you. Look around you. Take a moment to really see. There are still wonders to behold and grandeur to appreciate if only we use our own vision and be not content to see the world only through the "eyes" of artificial filters, human or digital.

For, "Things perfected by nature are better than those finished by art." [Cicero, De Natura Deorum (II, 34)]