New Journal; Entry 04
I woke today to a rather disappointing sight. While the beds were draped in the most beautiful, soft satin sheets, and the bedframe carved from golden wood imported from villages a few-thousand kilometers away, the mattress underneath was remarkably uncomfortable, and halfway through the night, I unfurled my sleeping bag and slept on the floor. When I went downstairs, I found that breakfast smelled remarkable, and appeared as if it was painted by some of the masters. Better yet, its taste was unbelievable, better than anything I've ever eaten in all my life. At first, I cracked a joke that I may settle here simply for this food. As I continued to eat, though, I realized that though the food was a delight to my senses, it was substanceless, light, airy, and unfulfilling. The more I ate, the more hungry I felt, or at least it seemed that way. I took the man from yesterday up on the tour he suggested. More and more, I saw gaunt and hollow people in the most fantastic clothes. They were beautiful and graceful people who walked so precisely they almost appeared to be clockwork automata, trailing along like music-box ballerinas. And yet, most who I saw were weak and tired easily, requiring a large group to accomplish even the most simple task. As we passed by an orchard, I watched the laborious struggle of a cadre of workers in gold-studded overalls, who nonetheless required the might of three to hold steady a ladder, while the last plucked the final apples of the season with a persistent tremor. The man guiding me told me why this place was so beautiful; a hundred years prior, it had been a humble village of unfulfilled and ugly peasants. They ate large feasts, though they were untalented chefs and often their recipes were pedestrian and uninspired. They lived in small houses without luxury. They worked hard but for the short hours they did, they could not afford luxury! One day, a wise philosopher entered the village atop a beautiful horse. Draped in gold and jewels and robed in fine silk, he drew the attention of all the village. Holding a thick tome studded in fine leather, his radiant smile ingratiated himself to the village. He told them of his wisdom, that the best things in the world are the most beautiful; that our eyes were designed to discern good from bad by beauty. So said the wise philosopher, the ultimate good to which everything points is beauty. He was so beautiful, and his horse so captivating, and his robes so splendorous, that he captured the attention of the entire village, yes? They could tell, too, that he was good. And so the village entered a time of absolute prosperity. Though a small group of the village had both luxury and utility, those with little still had luxury. Because of this, they were the most luxurious, richest, most prosperous village in all the world! I asked whether or not he was fulfilled, but he simply laughed, saying that fulfillment is not the ultimate good; and that if he were to chase fulfillment, he would not be good. I eventually returned to my inn room, electing now from the beginning to sleep in my bag.
I wonder why beauty is so captivating.
Until tomorrow.
