There’s an art museum in the neighboring town where I lived.

The architecture was quite stunning; stone marble steps marked the entrance through the brass and iron framed door. On either side, roses dipped their weighted blooms before stone statues of ‘great men on horseback’ and heroes of the war.

We used to visit there every Sunday, just before the crowds settled in. Mom loved the Van Gogh exhibit best, captivated by the wild impassioned, brushstrokes and obvious castings of tradition. Though I never quite understood the draw.

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” Mom would smile before moving on.

Not everyone can appreciate the appeal of a Warhol, Bosch or Van Gogh – and, certainly the complexities of taste are far reaching. However, one thing has always perplexed – when it comes to Nature’s artworks each of us stands so blissfully in awe.

Through the Redwood’s towering pose, we find humility; in the heron’s swift ascension, we find grace. Every amplitude of brush stroke, each hint of color – all lending something miraculous to the beholder; the blessing of simplicity in a world fraught with trouble.

And we may lose ourselves within the throes of an uncertain storm. Or, perhaps we’ll find perfection reflected within the endlessness of cosmos.

“The secret is in action; here and now.” writes Nisargadatta Maharaj. And, in the end “it is your behavior that blinds you to yourself.”

In peace, dear friends…

Namaste ❤