Reaching deep within the reservoir where my memories are stored, I discovered anew something quite old yet refreshingly youthful. I dare say it is as beautiful today as it was when first stored in the keeping-place.
In my youth, the grade school I attended allowed the "big" kids (7th & 8th graders) to attend the Seattle Symphony twice a year. The first time I had such an opportunity I was anything but enthused. Mostly I was excited about the bus excursion that would allow we prepubescent energy balls to giggle & wiggle to & fro. Then, when I realized I was to sit in a balcony, I knew I had been born for such a heady experience.
To my surprise & amazement, the bus trip & beckoning balcony were nothing as compared with being captivated by the symphony's performance. Never had I sat in the presence of so many musical notes, each & all colliding to create the most fantastic sounds. I was smitten.
Beauty comes at rare times and in rare forms. It's not always easy to see or to hear, or even to define. But we know it when we come upon it. It is then that we place it carefully into the reservoir that is quintessentially for beautiful things. Then, on days like today when we're rummaging around for a beautiful thought or remembrance, there it is.
I've heard it said: "Beauty is to love what Christ loves.", so that's become my subscription. I have concluded it to be the vital ingredient in all recipes calling for beauty. No doubt that's what Bach, Mendelssohn, Handel & other Christian composers had in mind when they orchestrated the great, stirring & beautiful instrumentations that seized me as a young girl.
Some say "Art imitates life". I'm not so sure.
Where beauty is concerned, I have concluded - rightly or wrongly - that life imitates art.
Thus it is that the year to live beautifully insists I discover new and anew all that Christ loves.
... whatever is true, whatever is noble,
whatever is right, whatever is pure,
whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—
if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—
think about such things.