On City Walks and Converging Perspective

You'll notice it the next time you walk through a group of skyscrapers. There's a beautiful geometry in the lumbering monoliths that mark a town's epicenter, a riot of motion and perspective to be witnessed as your own perspective subtly shifts with each step. parallel lines begin to breathe and flow and give life that resonates deep into the ground and seeps out of the cracks in the sidewalk.

It's beautiful like that. Life is beautiful like that. Despite its obtuse callousness, life has proven itself to fail at gracelessness and indignity. 

I get to witness this sight each evening as my wife and I and our little one venture into our Bohemian beat through downtown Colorado Springs. And I guess that's the aim of this blog, to unravel such gargantuan columns of concrete into what they really are, and what all things are; beauty. It's underneath your footsteps, inside the walls your fingertips brush as you pass; if you listen close enough to the waver in a mistuned guitar played by a vagrant on the street-corner, you can hear a chorus of angels, like the sound of fluttering wings and children's laughter.

I try my hardest to make each experience as meaningful and meditative as possible; I would say to look through the veneer of banality, but I find that expression lacking in that it only accepts what lies just beyond our preconceived notions. I believe in a wholistic way of beauty and living, and if everything is beautiful, why not banality?

Ask yourself, in your next intimately pedestrian moment, when parallel lines start to converge and breathe and beg to be noticed:

Why isn't your life more beautiful?