Peaks And Valleys Of Different Sorts...

I didn't take this picture, but I wish I had. I wish I was there to seethe sight in person.

I don't understand a lot of this world, (More things in Heaven and Earth indeed...) but I know beauty when I see it. I don't know why its beauty, I don't know what it even means really. But I know how it feels to see something beautiful.

I think landscapes are beautiful. The Grand Canyon, the Alps, the empty desert at sunrise.

I think many women are beautiful. Soft in skin, smooth in motion and always a suprise underneath the surface.

I think life is often beautiful, based purely on the merit that in this moment I exist. I am lucky to be a part of the universe that spawned me in my insignificance among its unending vastness.

I do not see art as beautiful. I do not see poetry or writting to be beautiful. And I do not think of music as beauty. I love them in their own way; I use them, cherish them, even depend on them everyday, but they are not beauty. To me they are products of people who expressed themselves in the best way they could; crying out into the world their joy and pain and lonelyness and satisfaction and horror and pride. When they move me they do so because I understand them, and thus understand something about myself.

But my concept of beauty rarely gives me insight. It moves me while remaining unmoved. To the earth, the universe and most women I pass without note. The mountains continue to stand, I continue to exist and beautiful women keep living their lives without me in most cases.

Still, I consider myself blessed by my existance and the places I've seen and the women I have been lucky enough to know.