Meeting the Sublime

“Storm in the Mountains,” by Albert Bierstadt, c. 1870

Rainy season arrived. There are thrilling moments in the rainy season, which I wait anxiously for. When dark clouds hung in the sky, followed by the sound of thunder booming, then suddenly the air was cold and dark, then pouring rain and strong winds fell. The glass windows shook, raindrops hit heavily on the roof and window panes.

For the first few moments it seemed like there was nothing more important to do. Nothing but silently staring out the window. There is a sense of gratitude when we are in a safe place. While worrying about those who are in danger of flooding, being struck by lightning, caught up on a journey that has been forced to stop by the rain.

Living in a city, far from open landscapes, everyday being in the middle of a line of buildings and vehicles on the streets, rainstorms make us encounter wild nature for a moment. Just as seeing the night sky makes us feel the majesty of the universe, in the face of such things, we feel shrinking, small, helpless. In the middle of a rainstorm we can only wait until nature finishes its rage, resigned to witness its immeasurable power. Stunned between amazement and fear.

 

There is a name for such an experience: sublime. The feeling of sublime arises when we are faced with something infinite, something that is beyond our reach. Outer space, oceans, mountain peaks, waterfalls, cliffs and deep ravines, the expanse of the Earth seen from the plane. In the face of the sublime, we feel little and trivial, insignificant.

The term sublime comes from the Latin word, sublimin, which can mean "to be exalted to the limit". The first studies of the sublime are the work of Longinus from the 1st century AD. For Longinus, sublime is an adjective that describes something great, exalted, or elevated in the context of language and rhetoric. Sublime rhetoric inspires awe and respect, with great persuasive power.

The concept of sublime is also studied in the work of Edmund Burke, the 18th century Anglo-Irish philosopher, in his Philosophical Inquiry which was first published in England in 1757.Burke's definition of the sublime focuses on something dark, vague, hidden, broad, loud and sudden. The sublime is specifically associated with the breadth and ferocity of nature and human responses to it.

Depictions in the art of those period of time were often in the form of paintings of towering mountains, deep ravines, violent storms and seas, volcanic eruptions or landslides that, if they did occur, could threaten lives. The encounter with the sublime is not only in nature and certain places. Art, literature, poetry, painting, music and architecture can also give off a similar feeling. Of course, included in the sublime is the concept of God and death.

 

We usually don't like to feel belittled, considered small and insignificant. However, according to Edmund Burke, feeling small and helpless in the presence of something sublime actually has a positive effect that raises awareness to a higher level. We get the impression how insignificant we are in the larger scheme of things. This feeling frees us from the pressure of our various ambitions and desires. Everything we consider important, urgent and serious matters, can be postponed and become less important when compared to the breadth and majesty we see in the sublime.

The encounter with the sublime provides a welcome respite to the fast and pressing rhythm of life. Perhaps that is what we are truly looking for when we travel to mountains, seas, deserts, visit huge buildings from the past, great places of worship, grand old cathedrals in foreign and distant lands. That's what makes us willing to take the long tiring journey to those places: we want to meet the sublime. This feeling of sublime slipped unbearably, for example when we stand in front of the Ka'bah and witnessed the movement of groups of people surrounding it.

We come to it not just to add to the long list of names of places we've visited, but because we have a longing to connect with something great, which allows us to see how trivial our daily anxieties are, how insignificant labels and titles are, how petty are the egos  which we stand up for in front of disagreements with people from different camps. But our intentions are often tainted by desires that make them vague, and we become ignorant of the need to be fully present and enjoy being there, in the face of the sublime.

 

Therefore, it might be a good idea to deliberately go to meet the sublime at a time when we are trapped in a mounting anxiety and pressure. Go to the top of a hill, to the edge of the ocean, take a walk in the forest, to a museum, mosque, church or temple, see performing art and prayer. Drop everything and let our ego and anxieties for a moment seem insignificant, petty and small, and restore sight to bring things back to their proper proportion.

If that can't be done, feel its presence in the rainstorm, the time when the sublime is near. Maybe that's why we are advised to say lots of good wishes when it rains. And, behold, after the storm had passed, the sky is usually extraordinarily clear. A gift from the sublime.

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