Why I keep Myself Open to Beauty
We had snow this weekend. Not a blizzard, but enough to blanket the ground with several inches. The trees became outlined in white as if a wide white marker had traced the outline of the dark branches.
This morning, when I bundled up and went outside to feed the birds and survey the landscape, the trees appeared to be holding armfuls of fat cotton balls. It was beautiful—and funny at the same time.
Up to this point, those trees had seemed lifeless, stripped bare of their leaves. I thought of them as having turned inward, conserving their energy, patiently waiting for Spring. But now they had become Nature's backdrop for a game of what do you see now?
Garlands of cotton on the trees? Despite my logical mind knowing better, my imagination was having a ball!
Was this Nature’s gift to the trees or to me? Both, I think…
The fairy tales tell us to look more deeply at what’s in front of us. But standing there, I noticed how quickly my mind defaults to the obvious.
I stood there admiring the novelty of this scene. I could feel myself breathing. I became present —not only to the trees and the cotton ball snow but to the intense blue color of the sky and the sharp contrast between the bright sunlight and the intense cold.
Nothing about that moment was useful or practical. No problems were solved. No progress was made. But something else took place. Taking in this scene, something loosened while I stood there. Instead of following the thoughts in my head I was able to experience something surprising and beautiful.
I’ve never treated beauty as an add-on; something pleasant but optional, a nice-to-have once the real work of life was done. And I’ve been surprised many times by how many people I know - thoughtful, capable and caring people — barely seem to notice the beauty around them. But I recognized how easily I can miss beauty myself. I’m aware of how often I, too, become focused on getting things done. So I understand how, especially under pressure, beauty could feel subjective — something I might enjoy, but don’t really need or have time for.
As I’ve gotten older, I see beauty in so many unexpected places that it invariably brings me to tears. That snowfall gave me this moment of delight and gratitude - free of charge, free of effort. My busy brain had simply been missing the invitation to see beyond the expected.
In that moment, I recognized a different kind of intelligence at work. One that doesn’t argue or explain, but offers itself freely and generously. It is a gift beyond measure.
What happened to me in that cotton ball moment was, yet again, something I’ve come to realize over and over again: when I’m present to it, beauty reorients me to a wider, wilder world, one full of delight, creativity, and generosity. This is the kind of moment that touches my soul, uplifts and inspires me and mercifully lifts me out of my own busy thoughts.
Beauty feels increasingly important when I consider how many of us live in unimaginably difficult circumstances, where the familiar and safe has been wiped away.
It’s then that I know in my heart that beauty was never meant to be seen as mere decoration.
It’s an orientation toward life.
I’ve learned this throughout a lifetime of seeing the value of paying attention.
Beauty has reminded me that that reality is larger than any single moment of suffering. When I remain open to beauty that’s right in the middle of difficulty, something loosens its grip on my belief that this pain, this confusion, this limitation—is the whole story.
The gratitude that comes from beauty widening the frame of what I’m aware of in the moment. It doesn’t deny what hurts; but it does place pain inside a bigger, wider context so I’m not drowning in despair.
I know from experience that hardship has a way of isolating me from others. I can get caught in loops of fear, worry, numbing or frantic problem-solving. When I look for it, beauty gently reconnects me to the world at large, not by fixing anything but by reconnecting me to Life itself.
I remember a moving final scene in the movie, The Last Samurai. A Japanese samurai is dying on the battlefield. Rather than focusing on the slaughter around him or his own impending death, his attention is focused on the cherry blossoms falling around him.
Could I do that at the moment of my own death? I have no idea, but I’d like to think so. So often being open to beauty has expanded my perspective when my life was difficult. Instead of being pulled toward vigilance and control, I felt a sense of receptivity. So instead of my trying to control or minimize my difficulties, I was able to see myself in a larger context instead of reverting to control or worry.
From all of these experiences, I’ve been reminded that my worth is not dependent on outcomes or achievements or productivity. I can feel deep in my bones that the abundance and joy of Life hasn’t disappeared, just because my circumstances are harsh.
Want to be connected to a Bigger Picture? Moments of beauty will do that for you, as it has done for me. I’m convinced that my soul is always in conversation with something alive and full of meaning, even when I feel helpless and out of options.
My experience of beauty gives me a deep happiness, and I’m sure that’s true for you as well. I see that happiness as a radical act because it’s a way of staying open rather than a way to ignore difficulty. This doesn’t mean I ignore the challenges and obstacles that come my way.
Beauty does what it does -it’s not selective. It has given me permission to be what I am, and let go of the need to improve or fix myself. Accepting this gift allows my nervous system to settle, stops producing all those biochemicals that amplify stress, and my heart softens and opens a little bit more.
Admiring the snow on those trees reminded me, once again, that if I allow myself to notice beauty, both within and outside of me, I seem to develop a form of resilience based on trust. Trust that life always offers nourishment, inspiration, and motivation.
After all, how often do you get to see cotton balls in the trees?
wthis weekend
This morning, when I bundled up and went outside to feed the birds and survey the landscape, the trees appeared to be holding armfuls of fat cotton balls. It was beautiful—and funny at the same time.
Up to this point, those trees had seemed lifeless, stripped bare of their leaves. I thought of them as having turned inward, conserving their energy, patiently waiting for Spring. But now they had become Nature's backdrop for a game of what do you see now?
Garlands of cotton on the trees? Despite my logical mind knowing better, my imagination was having a ball!
Was this Nature’s gift to the trees or to me? Both, I think…
The fairy tales tell us to look more deeply at what’s in front of us. But standing there, I noticed how quickly my mind defaults to the obvious.
I stood there admiring the novelty of this scene. I could feel myself breathing. I became present —not only to the trees and the cotton ball snow but to the intense blue color of the sky and the sharp contrast between the bright sunlight and the intense cold.
Nothing about that moment was useful or practical. No problems were solved. No progress was made. But something else took place. Taking in this scene, something loosened while I stood there. Instead of following the thoughts in my head I was able to experience something surprising and beautiful.
I’ve never treated beauty as an add-on; something pleasant but optional, a nice-to-have once the real work of life was done. And I’ve been surprised many times by how many people I know - thoughtful, capable and caring people — barely seem to notice the beauty around them. But I recognized how easily I can miss beauty myself. I’m aware of how often I, too, become focused on getting things done. So I understand how, especially under pressure, beauty could feel subjective — something I might enjoy, but don’t really need or have time for.
As I’ve gotten older, I see beauty in so many unexpected places that it invariably brings me to tears. That snowfall gave me this moment of delight and gratitude - free of charge, free of effort. My busy brain had simply been missing the invitation to see beyond the expected.
In that moment, I recognized a different kind of intelligence at work. One that doesn’t argue or explain, but offers itself freely and generously. It is a gift beyond measure.
What happened to me in that cotton ball moment was, yet again, something I’ve come to realize over and over again: when I’m present to it, beauty reorients me to a wider, wilder world, one full of delight, creativity, and generosity. This is the kind of moment that touches my soul, uplifts and inspires me and mercifully lifts me out of my own busy thoughts.
Beauty feels increasingly important when I consider how many of us live in unimaginably difficult circumstances, where the familiar and safe has been wiped away.
It’s then that I know in my heart that beauty was never meant to be seen as mere decoration.
It’s an orientation toward life.
I’ve learned this throughout a lifetime of seeing the value of paying attention.
Beauty has reminded me that that reality is larger than any single moment of suffering. When I remain open to beauty that’s right in the middle of difficulty, something loosens its grip on my belief that this pain, this confusion, this limitation—is the whole story.
The gratitude that comes from beauty widening the frame of what I’m aware of in the moment. It doesn’t deny what hurts; but it does place pain inside a bigger, wider context so I’m not drowning in despair.
I know from experience that hardship has a way of isolating me from others. I can get caught in loops of fear, worry, numbing or frantic problem-solving. When I look for it, beauty gently reconnects me to the world at large, not by fixing anything but by reconnecting me to Life itself.
I remember a moving final scene in the movie, The Last Samurai. A Japanese samurai is dying on the battlefield. Rather than focusing on the slaughter around him or his own impending death, his attention is focused on the cherry blossoms falling around him.
Could I do that at the moment of my own death? I have no idea, but I’d like to think so. So often being open to beauty has expanded my perspective when my life was difficult. Instead of being pulled toward vigilance and control, I felt a sense of receptivity. So instead of my trying to control or minimize my difficulties, I was able to see myself in a larger context instead of reverting to control or worry.
From all of these experiences, I’ve been reminded that my worth is not dependent on outcomes or achievements or productivity. I can feel deep in my bones that the abundance and joy of Life hasn’t disappeared, just because my circumstances are harsh.
Want to be connected to a Bigger Picture? Moments of beauty will do that for you, as it has done for me. I’m convinced that my soul is always in conversation with something alive and full of meaning, even when I feel helpless and out of options.
My experience of beauty gives me a deep happiness, and I’m sure that’s true for you as well. I see that happiness as a radical act because it’s a way of staying open rather than a way to ignore difficulty. This doesn’t mean I ignore the challenges and obstacles that come my way.
Beauty does what it does -it’s not selective. It has given me permission to be what I am, and let go of the need to improve or fix myself. Accepting this gift allows my nervous system to settle, stops producing all those biochemicals that amplify stress, and my heart softens and opens a little bit more.
Admiring the snow on those trees reminded me, once again, that if I allow myself to notice beauty, both within and outside of me, I seem to develop a form of resilience based on trust. Trust that life always offers nourishment, inspiration, and motivation.
After all, how often do you get to see cotton balls in the trees?
wthis weekend
RSS Feed