Beauty from the Baldwin Hills Scenic Overlook

By Heidi Harmon

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I believe that beauty exists

whether or not the beautiful thing recognizes its own beauty and

whether or not others admire the beautiful thing.

So I find safety in assuming that beauty exists everywhere

and that recognizing it

lies at the top of my list of

things I must do.

I’ve heard people say that while in Switzerland, no matter which direction you point your camera,

you cannot help but capture beauty.

I have not heard this said of Los Angeles.

Yet beauty finds me everywhere in my city of angels.

This beauty includes a grittiness, granted,

particularly in today’s 90-degree weather.

Dry, dusty grasses and sages smell like California.

 

I look upon my city in all directions and see

brilliantly colored graffiti looking back at me from the base of the overlook,

a cherry red ’57 Chevy lowrider,

a monk’s bright orange robe,

a Fender Stratocaster in sparkly teal,

a mural with extraordinary greens and blues with a portion of yellow.

 

I hear a low murmur of traffic, music, and languages.

 

I taste both hard-earned and easy sweat,

exquisite kisses, and

tears of life-saving joy and of

excruciating grief.

I sob with relief knowing that my very hard heart has softened and is recovering.

The beauty of love, joy, ease, and safety has won.

 

I spend some time in this mikvah of

smells, sights, sounds, and tastes.

Then I step out of it, dry myself off, and return to my city down the hill

knowing I belong in it with everybody else.