To Perceive

This past April, I visited Gordon Gu's museum. As I stepped through the entrance, I saw two words on the wall. To perceive.

At the time, I felt nothing in particular. To perceive was just a word to me, a concept. I glanced at it, and walked on.

But over these past two months, I slowly realized that I seemed to have lost my creativity.

I was surrounded by all kinds of voices. Voices about the business, voices from the outside, so many opinions and remarks from others. These voices were always in my ears, and always in my heart. And I found that my ability to perceive had faded.

I passed through many places, yet it was as if I truly saw none of them. I sat in beautiful scenery, but my heart wasn't there. I had grown a little numb, unable to feel beauty, unable to feel myself.

This summer, I spent time with my child, playing, exploring together. Playing with them was so much fun, and in every moment we were exploring, and creating.

The way a child sees the world is different from ours. When he looks at a flower, or plays in the sand, he gives it his whole heart, with no other thoughts. Being with him, seeing through his eyes, slowly, he seemed to bring me back.

I began to feel the wind again, to feel the sunlight, to feel my child's laughter, to feel all the small, beautiful things around me. My ability to perceive came back, little by little. It turned out it had never left. It had only been covered over by those voices.

And it was just then that I suddenly remembered the two words I'd seen in April. To perceive.

All at once, I understood. So this is what those words meant. Not a concept, but an ability, one you can only truly understand once you've lived it.

And I suddenly felt how deep the spirit of Gordon Gu is. To place the words to perceive at the entrance of a museum. I think he is telling everyone who walks in, don't look at these works with your mind, feel them with your heart. Set down the voices outside, grow quiet, and only then can you truly perceive them.

If our attention can truly enter the present, and we take the time to really behold a work of art, in that moment, we return to where we were always meant to be. This is how we are meant to live, in the present.

This taught me something important.

The most precious thing we have isn't how clever we are, or how much we understand, it is our ability to perceive. Everything we do, our sense of beauty, our feeling for beauty, our understanding of the people around us, all of it comes from this perceiving.

And this perceiving can be covered over by the voices outside. So no matter how busy we become, no matter how loud it gets out there, we must keep returning to that quiet state where we can perceive again. To be with our children, to look at nature, to be still for a while. That isn't wasting time. That is us, guarding the most precious thing we have.

Marie, Founder of Lyfairs