Think of all the beauty still left around you and be happy. – Anne Frank
This past week I was the guest of some good friends in Northern California for a few days of deep discussions, delicious meals, and authentic community. My hosts’ beautiful home included an absolutely spectacular hilltop view overlooking miles of rolling West Coast wine country.
Every morning I’d find myself marveling at it all anew, and secretly wondering what it must be like to have this as the backdrop to one’s everyday existence. (I didn’t ask them, but I knew it couldn’t suck.)
Later in the week I spent a day in nearby San Francisco, the beneficiary of another friend’s insider tour via a late afternoon drive that deposited us right at the base of the Golden Gate Bridge. The sheer scale of the structure towering over us combined with the panorama stretched out on either side was about as stunning as it gets. My friend commented that after many years he still can’t quite fathom that he gets to live there surrounded by that kind of beauty. It wasn’t hard to believe him.
Tonight near midnight (after 2800 miles, two planes, multiple delays, and 10 hours of travel) I finally reached my North Carolina driveway. As the garage door opened, I was shocked to see my 6 and 10 year olds bounding toward me yelling, “Daddy, Daddy!” They insisted on waiting up for me and each of them took turns jumping into my chest and squeezing me fiercely.
A few short minutes after throwing my suitcase down, my wife, my kids, our dog Zoe and I found ourselves all snuggled up on the bed, talking and giggling and catching up on six long days apart as quickly as we could get the words out.
I looked at them and realized that this is as beautiful a view as anyone could ever have and wondered how I was fortunate enough to wake up every day to it.
Though I didn’t need a week away to realize these blessings, the separation of time and distance allowed me to see with new eyes; to freshly receive everything in front of me—which itself is a great gift. I think we all become accustomed to the staggering beauty around us, so used to our surroundings that we gradually lose our appreciation for it all. We somehow allow the grandeur in our midst to feel commonplace.
Though we so easily overlook it, there is almost always something spectacular close by.
It might come in the form of a roof above us that keeps the weather away, or the pantry the never leaves us wanting, or the splendor of a small piece of the planet that daily gives us peace, or work that makes us feel alive, or the loving embrace of people who share this life with us knowing all our faults—yet who still seem happy to do so. Every one of us becomes blind to the magic in our midst, and regaining our sight is an act of truly living well.
Here’s to being able to really see the magnificent things around you, again or for the first time; to be overwhelmed with gratitude for those gifts you’ve worked hard for or the ones you’ve been given without deserving, that allow the storms to be less frightening and the journey to be more joyous.
Wherever you find yourself as you read these words there is something (quite likely a great deal) truly breathtaking right there in front of you, if you’re willing to look again.
Open your eyes wide, friend.
Take it all in, let it fill you with awe once more, and let it remind you that you are far more fortunate than you usually realize.
Be overcome by the staggering beauty you find yourself surrounded by today.
Enjoy the view.
