Beauty is Transmission

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As the 1st of May approaches in the West of Ireland we are experiencing warm, balmy weather and longer days which results in green growth spurts, frothing blossoms upon every bough, and glorious birdsong during dawn and dusk.

Today I spied a Song Thrush sunbathing on a earthenware pot that has not yet been replanted.

The bird fluffed out its fathers and rested on soil warmed by the noon sun, with wings slightly spread, tail fanned, and its head arched with beak slightly open in what looked like a posture of ecstatic enjoyment. After a period of time it hopped up and ducked into the shadow of my car — clearly it reached its heat limits. It returned about twenty minutes later to repeat this process. Birds are inherently cautious, and remaining quiet and open in a clear space means it trusts the location. It felt like an accolade.

This behaviour is referred to as ‘sunning’, and many varieties of birds have been recorded doing it. Research points to this being a system to control pests such as lice which live in the feathers and skin of birds, and ‘that short bursts of sunlight can work as a non-chemical pesticide’. (1)

For most of my life I’ve experienced lively dreaming states at night, and I go through periods of dedicatedly recording them in journals. I rarely repeat them to people because one’s dream symbology is personal, and as artefacts of the unconscious mind they are rarely ‘rational’, but operate with a metaphorical language that requires consideration and and a certain amount of deciphering.

It’s difficult to invite a stranger into your imaginal landscape and expect them to understand the codes and idiosyncratic trappings. Yet, the feeling of these dreams may be imparted in art, cinema, or music, and many successful creatives have done so in the past — such as in the artworks I’ve mentioned over the years in this newsletter.

Generally, I categorise dreams into three loose headings:

• figuring things out
• intel from below
• big dreams

One classic example of ‘figuring things out’ are stress dreams, which are more direct and usually tackle an obvious problem. This is your mind trying to highlight solutions but sometimes by offering nightmarish exaggerations. On other occasions it can show you an option that your linear thinking never considered. The more we obsess over a topic, especially if we stress our nervous system about it, the more our unconscious tries to alert us to this problem. It can result in a challenging feedback loop if we don’t address the agitating factors.

Most of us hope for rest when we manage to drift off to sleep so distressing dreams are rarely welcome. Yet, consider this mechanism as an attentive friend who speaks a foreign language but who only wishes to aid you in resolving your issues. And of course dreams can be fun and playful too!

‘Intel from below’ is often strange combinations of people, symbols, or locations you’ve experienced but with weird perspectives and distortions. Your primary school now had extra stories or sub-basements, unusual portals and the addition of odd characters. Mythological creatures can take you on journeys to new places and give you gifts or help you figure out puzzles. Sometimes you meet deceased friends, relatives or strangers who you somehow know intimately. Television characters are your buddies and tell you stories. This is where you can obtain insights to health conditions, creative inspiration, or thorny interpersonal challenges. It’s a reminder that your deep mind has answers to questions that might seem intractable, but once you learn to petition for that information it can be forthcoming but dressed up as a mysterious production.

Finally, ‘Big Dreams’ are always signaled by their conviction or tone. They whisk you off to what feels like other dimensions, they can be as real as your waking life, and they have the majesty of a full symphonic orchestra. These dreams can change your life. They might herald a shift in your circumstances, offer an astonishing epiphany, or contain a galvanising call to action. You may wake from it startled, certain of pressing importance of this unearthly communication, but quite soon its intensity dissolves as daily life presses upon you. It can be easy to label such visions as delusion, especially on telling them to an untuned ear.

And sometimes dreams are the garbled noise of a restless mind. Only experience teaches the dreamer what signal requires investigation.

Many people experience ‘liminal dreaming’, which is the hypnagogic state between wakefulness and deep sleep. This can induce sounds, flurries of images and scenarios as you’re drifting toward slumber (or daydreaming), and sometimes its impact can abruptly surface you from your sleep dive. For a long time I was unsure why this happened to me since the standard opinion was that dreams only occurred in the REM state, which is the last phase of a 60-90 minute cycle. We can experience 4-6 cycles a night if we’re doing well, and we’re more likely to remember dreams from the final morning cycle. It’s only in the last few decades that researchers have inched towards a better understanding of the dream spectrum. (2)

For instance, it’s known now that during REM the channels in our brain open up like petals at dawn to allow the cerebrospinal fluid to flush through and remove any cellular waste. The REM state is essential for good brain health.3

The thrush spreads its feathers in the heat to rid itself of unwanted pests.

In a dream a few weeks ago a distinct voice stated, ‘Beauty is Transmission’, with a tone of iron-clad confidence. This phrase has been percolating in my mind ever since.

I could have omitted this arrived to me in a dream. It would be easier to write that I arrived at this statement from the pondering of my waking mind, but that felt disingenuous.

After all, this phrase is inherently about transmission, and as Marshall McLuhan succinctly stated, ‘The medium is the message’.

Turning this phrase over and over in my mind I have considered the notion of beauty itself, what that means, and how it changes from person to person, culture to culture, and era to era. Piercings, costumes, tattoos, physical shapes, songs, art, films, ceramics, books, hair styles, jewellery, houses, gardens transmit information.

Beauty pulls our attention and sparks engagement. We may even become transfixed, lost in the pleasure of its form.

Since we are experiencing the season of blossoms in Ireland, I kept returning to the life cycle of plants and trees, and how the flower, with its array of enticements, draws insects to its trove of pollen and nectar. The brief beauty of the flower transmits its need and it pulls those who are matched to that desire. In this case it results in a mutual exchange: fertilisation for the plant and food for the bee and her hive. Life moves towards fruiting, decay and renewal because of beauty.

Creatures have learned to replicate that beauty to draw in prey. For instance, there are several varieties of flower mantis, a carnivorous tropical insect that mimics parts of the orchid flower so it can catch and eat unsuspecting pollinating insects. Its beauty is a signal of deceit.

Our mythologies are replete with warning tales of gorgeous people who brought ruin upon their admirers. Beauty is not inherently good or bad, but its ability to mesmerise can make it a powerful force.

Beauty can attract destruction. Its transmission may rankle a mismatched audience. Places of great beauty have been razed to demonstrate superiority. Yet legendary beauty remains with us, imprinted upon the shared human imagination, so we re-create it in different forms. So many artworks have been devoted to imagining scenes, places, people of dazzling beauty that have passed from our reality. They linger with us, coming to us in dreams and visions, transmitting their message to new people, and exciting the imagination or a fresh generation. Great films are remade, musicals and plays are reimagined for a different era, books are adapted into new forms, songs riff on older music, and sequels abound across media. Yet it is the original that generally vibrates with the strongest transmission.

As a student of history I’ve always been struck by the ingrained need in humans for beauty. Our earliest ancestors wanted amber bead necklaces, artfully stitched clothing, stylised tattoos, carved utensils, stone statues, and they collectively constructed monumental resting places for the dead adorned with their symbols. None of it was necessary for survival yet clearly it was highly valued. Beauty carries a transcendent quality, an aura of sublime connection; even those with restricted circumstances crave a sunset, a good tune, or a smile.

Living without beauty is impossible in any age. Around 50,000 BCE (or earlier) the first people crawled into pitch-black caves and painted their cosmologies, stars, animals, and representations of their lives upon the walls. Following generations buried their dead carefully wrapped, anointed in perfume, wreathed in flowers, and surrounded by exquisite goods. Beauty demonstrated honour, duty, tenderness, status, and impact. These objects were so precious, so alive with meaning, it was believed they could transit to the otherworld to accompany the souls of the deceased.

Despite being so distant from these people’s ways of living we can regard their ornaments and be moved by their beauty.

We may not understand the language of every transmission, but we sense the power of its emanation.

Why did my dream send me this message right now? Perhaps it’s a reminder of that need to create and be receptive. Transmission is a two-way process. We observe beauty and recognise it because of a corresponding soul-pull. External beauty calls to the beauty residing within.

Perhaps I need to rest in the sun and open my channels a bit more.