knots in wood

I'm sitting at a picnic table in a farmyard, and a strong, late afternoon sun is beaming down on the table. It's a wooden table and this strong sunlight is highlighting the grain of the wood. And looking at these pieces of wood, I see here and there, there are knots, where the tree would have had a branch growing. And at first glance one might feel that these knots rather destroy the symmetry, and perhaps therefore the beauty, of the grain. Certainly if one measures perfection by symmetry, then these knots do disrupt it. But I am also imagining: what would this table look like if the wood did not have any of these knots? And it would be rather boring. The pieces of wood would be identical. There would be no individuality.

So rather than seeing these knots as defects, or as detracting from the beauty of this table, I see they are definitely adding to its beauty. Every one is unique. And if one gazes at one of these knots, in itself it reveals a beauty: the way the grain whirls around it. And seeing this, it reminds me that, all too often, we reach for some simple measure of perfection or, worse still, of beauty. And whenever we do that we miss, completely.

It is the very uniqueness of things that imbues beauty. And that goes for you and I as well. This is what is coming to me to day as I look at these knots in the wood.