The view from the steele bridge always astounds me on a bright day. It's not the beauty of the water, blue prisms off the surface and each cloud perfectly reflected, shades of grey and white, delicate or dramatic.
It's the steel and concrete of all the bridges. The multiple man made industrial contructions which seem like they should be tolerable at best, and yet there they sit, making the view that much more striking.
There is this emotional pull watching the sky move against the water and the boats and birds and clouds and cars.
I've looked at it a million times and tried to figure out what it is about this vision, like other stark industrial images embeded in a canvas of natural beauty that excite me so.
And people. yeah, people. I mean, we all love a beauty queen. Young and smooth and buffed and shined. it's hard to argue with perfection. But isn't there something much more compelling about a stunner with a big nose or an uneven smile? The strange ugliness or imperfection makes their beauty that much more excting, that much more authentic and sexy. Oh how those eyes look in contrast to that beak. Look at that luminescent skin pulled taught next to that scar.
This is our beauty. This is our strength, and it's glorious. To render the good great with the contrast of our trials and imperfections. To shine like stars in the night, to make the dark look deep with our light, to make the sparkle less garish with the subtle shades of black and blue as the universe presents itself from a distance.
And I don't know. These things about myself. These things I love about myself, my wit and sensitivity and grace lay stark against my laziness and clumsiness and my propensity to find sadness in my most joyous moments. My fear nestled deep in a pool of hope.
It doesn't seem fair until I look at that view and then I begin to understand a little about our limited capacity to absorb such maginficence without the rest in close proximity. Compare and contrast.