I have a high aesthetic.  Meaning that I have an extreme sense of the beautiful.  I don’t want to say that I can judge for others what is beautiful, but for myself I see beauty everywhere.  I used to say I saw photographs in everything, which is true since that’s my medium, but really it’s more than that.  My view of the world is filtered through my sense of beauty.  And before all my friends and family start thinking to themselves about whether or not I’m judging how they look… that’s not it at all, and no, I’m not looking at you that way.  Other than, I suppose, to see your inner beauty, which I do, but that’s a topic for another day.  I’m talking about the world… people don’t factor in unless it’s a mass of them in a space and that particular scene is beautiful to me.  Or a couple holding hands walking through the park.  Beautiful.  But again, I’m talking about space, architecture, nature, form, light, design, intention.  I mean grace of movement, melody, warmth, a point of view.

Is this making sense?

I’ve never attempted to articulate this before, but yesterday I was looking at our living room.  Simple.  We both appreciate art, in many forms, and it’s evident in our space.  The furniture is even sort of funky, which is part of it.  We are eclectic, because we always get something because we love it, not because it’s what we should have to go with whatever else we have.  We figure if we love something it will fit into the whole of what our place is.  The vibe.  We also believe in not having too much “stuff” so we try to keep things non-cluttered.  It’s a balance of taste and style and funk and having our space feel a certain way.  So I was looking at it and found myself thinking and feeling that a certain aesthetic sense fills it.  It fills me.  Anytime we go anywhere I see photographs.  Not the usual panorama, though sometimes that’s so, but usually a part of something, the form of something, the way the light hits a particular thing.  I notice.  And I’m glad I do.  It’s what happened yesterday as a certain winter light shone in through our living room window and hit part of a lamp.  That’s all.  Just a little light filtering in and hitting a part of lamp.  It was stunningly beautiful.

I never get too busy to notice, never too rushed to notice, because even when I am busy or rushed I still notice as my eyes pass something.  It’s wonderful.  At least I feel as though it’s wonderful.  I feel lucky to have this thing inside that naturally lets me see the larger, deeper, subtler things in life.  The way a leaf blows across the street, the barking of a distant dog that sounds happy, the passing shapes in clouds, the shadows made by the rising of the sun.  I sometimes feel these things so much I cry.  Cry from a place of joy for having seen something so stunning.  It used to embarrass me, but it no longer does.  I feel privileged, and I wish more people stopped quietly and said to themselves…wow… that is beautiful.  Whatever that may be.  I think the world would be a better and more joyous place.  How could it not be.  It brings connection with things, connection with the larger world, makes a person feel small and a part of something bigger all at the same time.  It brings a sense of peace, that things are as they should be for a moment, these brief snippets of time.  It’s freeing in a way.

I feel fortunate, lucky, privileged, to see the world through these eyes… these eyes that see beauty in the smallest things all around me.   And my hope is that you see it too…