Recently, I experienced a case of the flu that left me feeling rather pathetic and alone. That aloneness was necessary, however, to enable me to rest and recuperate. Wrapped up in my blanket of solitude, I spent most of my time either sleeping or reading novels that have a tendency to pile up on my bedside table. These stories not only conjured up magical worlds, but also gave me comfort. Thankfully, the flu has now abated, and I’m cognizant of the first signs of winter, ten centimetres of the whitest snow blanketing the earth. Stepping out into this wintry landscape proves astonishing. The trees have yet to fully disrobe, and the sun glowed against the sapphire blue sky with an intensity that, for someone who grew up in Northern Europe, always comes as a surprise, where dark, gloomy days are November’s speciality. The scene was made even more inviting by the yellow, orange, and burgundy shades of those maple leaves that still adorn some of the majestic trees that envelop my neighbourhood. It certainly seemed magical to be walking alone in this beauty, not least because not so long ago getting up from bed felt like a sign of wonder.
Arendt doesn’t really talk much about the wonders of nature, does she? Which is strange given how much time she spent time in beautiful places. It is not the wonder of the natural world than entranced her but that of the man-made landscape. That of Heidegger’s sense of world, rather than that of nature.
Yet Arendt does teach us that loving the world is central to what it means to exist in a relational way. Such existence is enriched by the love and friendship of others, as well as the world of manmade things. But, at times, these man-made offerings seem to pale before the beauty of the landscape. Walking in such a landscape, I regain my love for the world. And, as Arendt reminds us, this love for the world is connected to the love that we share with unique others. Both aspects of love enrich our unique version of the human condition. That uniqueness is conditioned by the beauty, or lack thereof, of our natural world, as well as the beauty of those that we know and love.
Loving the world is something that we often forget within the business of our everyday activity. Perhaps then we need not only to step back, as illness forces one to do in order to once again step joyously into the world of wonder, paying heed to that which lies beyond ourselves. Maybe, then, we can get a little closer to the richly woven tapestry of the amor mundi, which so fascinated and entranced Arendt.
Photo by Aaron Mello on Unsplash