When Beauty Feels Far Away
For creatives that want to find a way back to inspiration
There’s something that happens when we live a life. We lose the thread. We get stuck. We get lost in the weight of feelings or in the things that happen to us.
And in those moments, beauty can feel impossibly far away.
The usual advice is to go out into nature. Take a walk.
But what if that doesn’t work?
What if you’re standing right in the middle of the forest, surrounded by beauty, and still feel nothing? Or at a glorious festival with people you love on a warm bright summer evening — and still can’t access it?
Of course, this already brushes up against one of life’s biggest questions: what is beauty? (fyi google tells me it’s this>)
BUT ! I think it’s something … a little different.
Philosophers across time have tried to define it. I like a mix of Elaine Scarry, Nietzsche and Plotinus.
So just for context. Here’s the beauty i’m talking about …
Elaine Scarry talks about how beauty makes us draw it, or describe it. Beauty quickens. It adrenalizes. It makes the heart beat faster. It’s the thing that makes us stop in our tracks and take note of the world, that affects us and draws us toward it. Beauty opens us up to awe.
Nietzsche says beauty arises in the tension between the Apollonian (form, order, clarity) and the Dionysian (chaos, ecstasy, music).
And Plotinus says:
“Beauty is the translucence of the eternal splendor through matter.”
It’s this kind of beauty, that drives us to make. Or at least - it does for me. And, if we struggle to find this in daily life, what do we do?
I reckon there’s one, pretty good way back.
Dialogue.
Many philosophers across cultures remind us that beauty and meaning are not found alone, but in dialogue. Socrates, Confucius, Arendt, Wiredu, Freire — each in their own way defended conversation as a way of deepening our experience of the world.
In Phaedrus, Socrates warns us of the lifelessness of the written word. Books, he says, allow people to merely repeat words rather than arrive at their own wisdom:
“They seem to speak as if they had intelligence, but if you question them, wishing to know about their sayings, they always say only one and the same thing.” — Socrates
In contrast, he tells us dialogue is alive — a revealer of the “writing in the soul,” a place where words and ideas have room to move and grow.
Arendt picks up this thread:
“Only where things can be seen by many in a variety of aspects… can worldly reality truly and reliably appear.” — Arendt
We don’t encounter the world fully in solitude, but in conversation, when perspectives overlap and multiply. Reality isn’t made by individuals alone. It’s revealed in the collective, when we speak, share, and explore together.
And in an age where conversation can feel like combat online, I love how Kwasi Wiredu frames dialogue instead as communion:
“In traditional African consensual democracy, the purpose of discussion is not to defeat an opponent but to arrive at a consensus.” — Wiredu
Conversation helps us belong. When had with people who see and encounter the world in ways that pushes against our own in persception, whilst also probably sharing some of our world view, it can pull us out of isolation and places us in something larger than ourselves. The USNESS of the world, if you like.
And in that moment of belonging, we glimpse the vastness of the world — and our smallness within it. Which is where awe lives. And, sometimes, beauty.
So my suggestion is this: if you can’t feel beauty, ask a question you’re curious about — ideally over dinner, in a real conversation with people you love. And wonder about stuff together.
So that’s what I did. I asked some friends:
“What do you do when life’s beauty feels far away?”
1
Friend: What do you mean by far away? That was my first response. LOL
Me: Hahaha ok!
Friend: Do you mean like when I don’t feel beautiful?
Me: Life’s beauty.
Friend: Or that standards are unobtainable?
Me: The beauty of the world.
Friend: Ohhh, ok. I go for a walk to the beach. It’s hard for me to answer because I live in a really beautiful part of the world — I’m around it a lot! But when I was sick in the UK, this felt more relevant. I took myself outside when I could, meditated in nature, or just looked at plants and appreciated how beautiful they are.
2
Friend: Rest.
3
Friend: Cry.
4
Friend: I don’t really understand what you want from me.
Me: That’s ok, most people don’t.
Friend: lololol. No ok, but what is beauty? What is life’s beauty? What do you mean when it feels far away?
Me: Well, I guess for me, depending on my mood, I find noticing and being changed by beautiful things harder than on other days. I think that’s normal and part of the human condition. But I’m also curious, because I make when I’m inspired, and I’m inspired by the things I find beautiful. So when I’m not seeing them, I’m not making. On the days I feel far away, I need to find ways back. Make sense?
Friend: Ohhh, yeh. Ok. What do I do? Um… get drunk.
Me: Idiot.
Friend: No, no — really. I guess I get sad. And if I’m in my “wrong mind,” I’ll watch Casualty and cry. LOL. Or if I’m in my “right mind,” I’ll invite someone over and cook for them.
Me: Ahhhh, now we’re talking.
Friend: Yeh. Food. I think I find beauty in sharing food.
Me: Love that.
5
Friend: Oh this is a good question. Do you mean when you’re sad and sick of the state of the world? Or specifically personal? Sorry lol, you asked for an instant response and mine is more questions. xxx
Me: This is definitely related! As in — when you feel like you can’t access the beauty of life. And yes, it’s connected to feeling overwhelmed by the sadness and despair of the state of the world.
Friend: Hmm. I think initially I just get sad, tbh. But then I try to find perspective. Do something that makes me feel calmer, happier. See people I love. Watch or listen to things that comfort me. Fresh air. Nice food, I guess.
Me: Love. Thank you. I think I do the same things.
6
Friend: Get a haircut. Kind of always makes me feel better.
Me: oh MY !!! I know what you mean!!! hahaha. I love that. Most unique answer yet.
7
Friend: After an initial freak out, my scramble is always to find my centre and a place of calm. This is rarely a location, though at times is can be- a park that I can walk around in a loop with some familiar music on, so that it provides a comforting sound for me to organise my thoughts. I’ll arrive at a conclusion, which is usually a logical one- ‘talk to my friends,’ ‘dive into work’ - but, knowing that life’s beauty is far away, I find true solace in only a few things: everything has its own season and reason, patience is indeed a virtue and we can only control what we can control- for the rest of it, we have to trust God.
8
Friend: I close my eyes and listen for the rushing water of a mountain stream from my childhood. I feel around between the jaggedy rocks for the perfect swooped stone to perch. I let the hot sun land on my body.
… this is pure escape and memory transport
Alternatively….
Sometimes I just stare and stare at the ugly until I can focus in on the tiny tinniest detail. Surprisingly, the cracks around the disgust lead to some kinda hope or new idea. Sometimes I’m just waiting for the most human moment to appear as a form of possibility. Some sliver of connection