Saturday Sensibilities

On Saturday, after spending a few hours at the library, I wandered around the historical center of the city.  I wasn't quite ready to go home.  I ended up on the steps of the Duomo.  I took out my journal.  This is what I wrote:

You wouldn't believe how many people walk by without even looking up.  What does it say about us as creatures that something like this can cease to amaze us?  We are so quick to forget beauty.  If we let a place like this jut blend into the background, if we normalize it, how many smaller but still beautiful things do you think go completely unnoticed?  

I am currently surrounded by people.  Some are taking pictures, others sitting on the steps with me.  But others still walk by.  The Duomo is simply on the way to wherever it is they're headed.  But we are so lucky to be in a place where sights like this are located along the way.  Is it really so easy to forget the journey?  Who cares if it's only twenty minutes.  You gain a lot by paying attention to the journey.  There is something to be said for proactively seeking out learning experiences, even if there isn't one to be found (though in my opinion that's rather rare).

The bells in the tower start to ring as a police siren whines not far away.  Old sounds mix with new, as do sights and structures, tastes and ideas.  That's how it is here.  Old meets new.  I'm coming to like the new less and less.  Too often I find it unaware or unappreciative, and at times downright disrespectful.

The people who were here before me knew what they were doing.  I've not a clue.  We've not a clue.

Here's to hoping we figure it out.