You know the moment when you round a corner and see a vista that literally has you breathless? Or you look up from your coffee to see the most beautiful women in the world walk by? Or you observe a child and a dog having a moment of deep connection as they pass each other in the park?

Those are the moments I live for. Everything else is just life-support for these moments of breathtaking beauty that make life worth living.

We’re not always tuned to these moments … too often we are in a hurry or we’re caught up with thoughts that distract us at the critical instant when beauty chooses to reveal herself.

Which is a pity, because the deep impact of beauty is truly a momentary thing. Stay looking at the same inspiring vista for more than a few minutes and it doesn’t become any more beautiful; give it a few hours and your eyes are ready for another sight, even if it’s one that’s objectively less spectacular. Spend an hour in the company of the beautiful woman and while she’s still just as beautiful, you’ve eventually learned how to breathe again and your initial feelings of awe and sensory overload have begun to wane.

Why is that?

Is it some kind of self-protection mechanism, to avoid the world becoming dull once you’ve seen “the best” view or met “the most beautiful” person or had “the nicest” encounter with a cat/dog/ferret/furry-pet-of-choice?

Or is it just your brain recalibrating? Taking the new information, absorbing it and preparing your spirit for the next exciting, beautiful instalment of life?