Too Familiar

Midwestern June sky.

One of my favorite sights is the sky. There is something peaceful, magical, and stunning about its appearance. I have interrupted conversations in order to point out and take pictures of extraordinary colors, seemingly painted rays of light, and stark, white clouds. While I have fully appreciated exceptional skies in different locations, I have interrupted significantly less conversation to point out the sky’s beauty when I wasn’t traveling. I had to ask if I was so accustomed to the miracle of the sun rising and setting over me at home that I failed to appreciate it. Had the incredible beauty that I witnessed daily become less incredible or had I become too familiar with it?

The idea of becoming too familiar with beauty led me to analyze how I view habitual surroundings. I discovered that I took on an extremely limited and short-sighted line of vision when I was in my routine. While riding down the street at home I would only see the next light so I wouldn’t miss my turn or the car in front of me so I wouldn’t hit it. I only saw the scenes in my immediate line of vision. Yet, while traveling, I didn’t see cities in that same limited view. My focus expanded. I looked for more than the upcoming block or the car riding in front of me. While in another city, I absorbed views broadly and intentionally. I purposefully sought out an experience. I expected beauty so I experienced beauty.

The show that the sky puts on in any location is artistic, but we often overlook its beauty while in familiar surroundings. If we can overlook the beauty that exists in something as pervasive as the sky, what else have we become so familiar with that we no longer see its beauty? Beauty exists in the sky, but beauty also exists in laughter, health, intelligence, strength, talent, feelings, and in love. Whether it’s beauty we see or experience, we must not become so familiar with it that we are no longer moved by its presence.