Early in his life, Leonard Cohen prayed to be able to make some response to beauty. I’ve been dwelling in the richness of that statement for days.
To utter such a prayer is to already have the grace of appreciating beauty, of having one’s eyes open to its presence in the world. And to ask for a way to respond is an enlightened longing. It does not seek to possess what is beautiful, to claim beauty for oneself. It measures value according to something beyond what serves an individual life. It asks for the power not to claim creation, but to participate fully in it.
The power and complexity of Cohen’s work, the ability of his music and lyrics to break open the heart, is a testament to his answered prayer. He looks hard at life, all of it, and makes of it something mysteriously, achingly beautiful. His work makes me want to live in poetry, even though he says of poetry that when your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash.
If his poetry is ash, then his life has burned like the bush Moses encountered.
The Holy Spirit moves in wonderful ways, including through friends who put amazing things into my hands. The film, I’m Your Man, is such a gift. It’s a moving film, featuring interviews with Leonard Cohen and performances of his music by various artists.
His breathtaking song, “Hallelujah,” has been performed by many talented people. Jeff Buckley’s rendition is wonderful. And there is nothing like its powerful performance by Cohen himself.
What shall we pray for? And how shall we respond to beauty?
You might be interested in reading my Love Letter to Leonard Cohen.
This is a lovely post. I will dwell on it for days also. I didn’t know this about him. Thank you.
I’m glad for your response, Kathleen, and happy to be passing along this gift.
I was reminded as I read this post that one of the signs that I have noticed of people who are trapped in a dark place is the inability to perceive beauty. A friend of mine who is a recovering alcoholic once told me about a moment of epiphany in her recovery. She found herself captivated by the beauty of the sky one day and realized that she hadn’t noticed it literally for years.
I am convinced by my own experiences and scripture that regularly reflecting on beauty, particularly the beauty of nature or the beauty of art, is necessary and healthy for the soul. Thank you for this reminder.
Susan,
2006 was one of my most difficult years. I’d lost several people and things that had been long-time anchors for me, had two surgeries for cancer, moved from from one state to another and in general was feeling fairly bruised by life. Unable to sleep, I walked out to the patio late one evening. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I noticed across the way my neighbor’s white daisies moving ever so slightly in the moonlight. It was a moment of pure beauty for me. I wondered at the invisible hand that caused them to stir, and it wasn’t such a leap to imagine the same invisible hand at work in my own life. To me, my life wasn’t made of such beauty, but who’s to say . . . Maybe. If I can allow myself to be moved like a daisy.
John and Sharon, both of your comments have me thinking about what a gift it is to be able to perceive and appreciate beauty. That ability is a sign of health, as John’s story beautifully illustrates. And I’d like to think it can also be a vehicle for healing, as I imagine the vision of the daisies was for Sharon, in at least some small way.
Your reflections help me to appreciate not only beauty, but the ability to enjoy it. Thank you.
[…] I keep thinking about your thoughtful responses to my previous post. The insights there remind me that it’s a gift to be able to appreciate these things, and that […]
I heard an amazing poem by Leonard Cohen on CBC last night. For the life of me, I can’t even rbeememr how it went. BUT, it was well written (duh!) and funny. P.S. – Due to an inability to spell and string a sentence together, I deleted my previous comment.