Beautiful Tragedy

Tyler Murphy

What a world, to live.

It can be difficult to focus on a particular thing anymore. Life can be so massive in its variety yet so personal in its effect.

Autumn trees strewn across the hill side when viewed from a distance appear to have strong veins of color stretching across the valley but as you get closer each colored devotion is shattered into several. Every single tree harbors a thousand assortments, none quite like the others.

The patterns created by our distance from the details of things can change our perception of it completely. A large swath of bright orange pouring down a slope fades into a prismatic spray of diversity as one approaches each tree contained within. Each leaf expresses a distinct contribution to the over all impression. Each a part, none a whole.

The perspective of life must share similar scintillating qualities when viewed from afar or near. Abstract or intimate. Can there be truth in each perception? Is one more important than the other?

Imagine how the masses of people might appear to the king waving from his balcony, their reactions and behaviors. Each of us like the leaf on a tree is an individual but when viewed from afar do we also have the appearance of falling into the greatest commonality surrounding us? No two people are alike but how many categories do we fit ourselves into?

Assumption of a group’s traits may be relatively true in the abstract but when confronting each individual that comprises it might reveal that same assumption to be completely ignorant at an intimate and personal level.

The only difference between people and leaves, in this case, is that leaves are categorized based upon their color while people are judge upon their surface behaviors. A similarity, like Autumn, appearance and impression are all one needs, or has, of the individual when making vast and sweeping judgments of a multitude. Is this a flawed practice? Can we even control our impulses to act in such a way? The eye can only absorb so much detail, is the mind equally plagued with human limits?

Our control over the roots and our place in life are ailments often shared with mother natures fall season. Even the brightest yellow leaf will be drowned out in the riot of red foliage that surrounds it. From afar it would never be recognized, only categorized as a red. A beautiful tragedy.