Just another boring night shift at work. Doing rounds I glimpse out the window and notice that the sun is beginning to rise and is painting the sky a whole rainbow of hues. So tonight I thought instead of taking my lunch at the desk, I'd rather spend it propped against the hood of my car watching the sky morph in front of me. So outside I went.
I couldn't help but think that routine often snuffs out the ability to notice beauty.... or perhaps we don't recognize beauty in the things we see so often... because we simply see it too often.
My questions venture further... Is it the rarity that makes it so beautiful. I then ask myself are adventurers the ones with the most beautiful lives because of the notion that they themselves are unaware of what shore lies beyond the jagged outcropping that their sailboat navigates around? Is it the lack of foresight that makes life so beautiful. Propped up against the hood of my car my eyes glanced heavenward to daydream about the destination of planes as they cross the sky, but instead, something downward caught my eye. Something that was moving. I looked down, and in my stillness, a baby cottontail rabbit was crossing the parking lot. I couldn't help but notice what a beautiful creature this little rabbit is. The sunlight peaking over the horizon and through the trees was illuminating the frailty of his little fuzzy ears. Noticing that his stubby tail truly does resemble a piece of cotton. I couldn't help but feel that I need to live a life that is less routine and with wandering eyes. Just because I am a driven person with ambition, does not mean that I shouldn't allow the perfect northern wind to guide me south. It's in the spontaneity of that wind that one may find beauty. A rich and fulfilled life is an accumulation of those small noticed beauties.
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