Beauty suddenly rises like magic.

Unexpected chalk roses on a gray wall in a city. Beauty suddenly rises like magic.
Unexpected chalk roses appear on a bare city wall. Beauty suddenly rises like magic.

Every patch of this world is a canvas. Hands of unseen artists work mysteriously. Beauty suddenly rises like magic.

Sun and waves on bare concrete from an unknown urban artist.
Sun and waves emerge from cold, timeworn concrete.  An unknown urban artist has worked powerful magic.
Treetops swayin' Music Playin' Feet are swinging Such a beautiful Feeling. Anonymous.
“Treetops swayin’ Music Playin’ Feet are swinging Such a beautiful Feeling.” Anonymous.

Beauty is a dance of light.

Beauty is a dance of light.
Beauty is a dance of light.

Our eyes see nothing but reflected light. Reflections on the water are like shining glimpses of a higher world, a world that we cannot touch and barely fathom. Perhaps that is our own world.

Vision and a smile, the seed.

See beauty.
See beauty.

Lusty youth,
wistful age.
Tears shed from beauty
ink the page.

Leaf to leaf
stories read.
Vision and your smile,
the seed.

The jaded eye,
a dry stone.
Unwept, unseeing, unread,
alone.

Living must be a pursuit.

Pursue beauty.
Pursue beauty.

Humans are mortal.  Our species is driven to survive.  We avoid pain and danger.  We gather comfort, security, food, a mate, social position, money.

During untroubled moments we banish our deepest–most difficult–thoughts.  So to allay boredom we golf, shop, watch television.

Through our short lives, that’s mostly what we do.

But certainly living should be more than escape from death or boredom.  I insist it be.

Living must be a pursuit.

The pursuit of what?

Wisdom?  Truth?  Greater compassion?

Beauty?

Beauty and its essence are the subject of this blog.  Join me.  What will we find?