Sometimes I hear a song or a watch a scene in a movie and it changes everything. It never lasts though. It's like a flower that blooms once, and that by next morning is a crumpled bit of color on the nightstand.
I was driving once with my mother in Santa Fe New Mexico. The sun was beginning to go down, and it was a typical mind-blowing New Mexico evening. The clouds turned the color of burning coals, and the slanting light bathed the juniper and pinon in golden light, and I said something really profound like "Wow, that's pretty beautiful." And then something funny happened. My mother looked out the window and said "I can't really see beauty anymore. I can't feel it."
Well, that was an eye opener for me. She had lost touch with how to recognize beauty (this was many year ago, and she's found beauty again). It brought home a simple truth for me that I have to relearn all the time: you have to practice.
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