I was out on a walk with my daughter last week, when I stumbled upon an entire patch of lucky four-leaf clovers. To find a patch of four-leaf clovers you have to be lucky to begin with, so I figured I should spread this good luck to my neighbor, who was having a bad day. I picked a good one and stopped by his house. “Hey thanks,” he said, checking it out. “A mutant clover. Must be my lucky day.”

Although I hadn’t thought about it from that perspective, he was absolutely right. That little clover was a mutant. I went home and did a little research. I found that, compared to its three-leaved contemporary, the four-leaf clover is much less efficient at gathering sunlight, and because of this, is less likely to survive. Not so lucky after all.

In nature as well as in art, mathematical principles are always at work. The most aesthetically pleasing picture frame is rectangular, its sides proportionate to each other in what the Greeks called phi, or the golden ratio. And although there is a great deal of grace and elegance in the movements of a tai chi master, the motions could also be described as merely efficient.

Art is governed by certain laws, and those laws are not haphazard. I’ve heard people say that “beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” but I’ve yet to meet a person who is disgusted at the sight of a rainbow. There are certain aspects of beauty which are universal. The reason for this is because they are in harmony with the laws of nature.

When things are in line with the laws of nature, they are operating at their highest capacity. I had an experience taking a yoga class in which my body was aligned for the first time in years. My posture improved, quite rapidly, and as it did, this allowed my body to function at a much more efficient level. Within three days I noticed that my ability to concentrate improved dramatically, I felt more alert, and my creativity level soared. Trees don’t slouch. There’s a reason for that.

The principle of harmony recognizes the truth of our interdependence, and represents the ideal state for all our relationships with others and the world around us. In yoga I learned about the value of harmony within my self. It is in our relationship with the world outside of us that the effects really begin to resonate.

Relationships are like music. Each of our personalities has a certain “sound,” and that sound was developed for a reason: because it served us well in our past. Our friends have qualities that compliment our own personal attributes, while those people that rub us the wrong way seem to bring out our worst. In our dissonant relationships, it is easy to develop the habit of identifying with our sound, and feeling that it is the only note with which to communicate our ideas.

As Miles Davis said, “There are no wrong notes.” Only when notes are played together do we achieve harmony or discord. We are fortunate that life provides us with access to not just one, but an entire range of sounds, allowing us to express ourselves and create harmony in any situation in our lives. Is this an example of nature’s inefficiency? Perhaps. But it’s better than any four-leaf clover.

© 2004 Derek Munson, Awestruck Creative Enterprises, LLC. All rights Reserved.
Article available for reprint with permission and attribution.