In quite the unprecedented expression, Begovic in this famous book categorized religion and morals with art. In his point of view, man is a stranger in this world because this world does not feel but only think, make observations and logical conclusions. For him, our minds don’t know good from bad or right from wrong, they can analyze all, but the choices we make are the province of our souls, and our souls feed on religion and art. For him, if it weren’t for religion, there would have been no art.
Now this is very interesting. Speaking of one’s mental analysis of things, it’s also quite logical. God created everything, and if anyone should understand beauty it should be Him. Begovic also says art and religion would at many times actually seem illogical, and contrary to how that seems adverse to religion, it is actually an indication of its purpose; to deal with something that is beyond our minds: our souls.
If you look at a portrait of some famous artist, and judge that it is beautiful, then you have practically demonstrated that you are religious. There’s no one unanimous, single proof that this portrait is beautiful, and there’s no measure to that beauty if we claim that it could be proven. In fact, if you decide to employ your mind in analyzing its beauty, it shall be ruined for you; you will kill it by objectifying it. What happened when you first made your judgment, was a feeling, not a mental conclusion. This is how art works. It is also quite how religion works.
I am saying this is how religion quite works because the more one looks into the matter, the more one realizes how religion is even wider than that in its definition. If art tickles our capacity for beauty, religion, in addition to that, deals with our minds and bodies with the same kind of miraculous superiority. If your kind of religion neglects your mind, your body, or your soul, you shall suffer, deeply. So let’s then conclude quite comfortably that art is like one third of religion, and if you add mind to organize, employ and use art, and body to move with it in earth, you get religion.
Religion was once the art of getting to know God, and then with Messengers it developed into a way of life; an organization for human beings. A very comprehensible set of rules that govern how we feel, how we think and how we act.
But then again, where’s the art these days? Where’s this kind of beauty that I keep reading about in books. The humanity is so deprived of anything beautiful that I am suffering deeply. I can’t sleep anymore. I miss beauty, and if I find it, I find no religion, no respect, and I realize that what gives me the impression of being artistic, is just a powerful attempt at beautifying loss, loss in the soul and in the mind, complete utter misery of existence. I admit some works are masterpieces, but then I try for the purpose behind them, and I find nothing.
Religion finesses this touch. But no one applies religion that way anymore. You shall mostly find some piece lacking, No beauty, no mind, or no movement. A famous writer once derided philosophy and praised religion, and he made that sort of judgment by making this question:
Which will actually do something about the world’s poverty and oppression once the argument finishes?
I miss beautiful. I don’t want to just imagine it. I want to witness it. I want to be it.
I want it.
There’s this kind of face that sucks the worry out of the life of me the moment it eyes the sight of me. It is snow white, and the irises are so widely set in black you could fall in them. There are lips there that are velvet, and they speak salvation. There’s this kind of face that is a window to the heaven it speaks. A sigh like spring winds. A touch like roses against your cheek, a pat like leaves against your tense, oh so freaking tense shoulder..
I want that face too.