Has the view ever made you cry?

In the movie Last Holiday, Queen Latifah plays Georgia Byrd. There’s a scene in which Georgia is checking into a five star hotel in the French Alps. She’s standing at the front desk and looks up at the ceiling and finds herself in awe of the beauty overhead. She turns to the desk clerk and asks, “Does that ceiling ever make you want to cry?” The desk clerk replies without looking up, “I’ve never really noticed.”

How much beauty has always been around you that you’ve simply been unaware of until someone comes to visit and pauses to give it the reverence it deserves? How many people, places, or events have gone by that you took for granted? I lived in three apartments in San Francisco over a period of 13 years and each one was better than the last and what I know is that I created my home improvement circumstances with my focus and faith.

The first place was just outside the City itself and it had a view of a lush wooded area. My ultimate goal was a view of one of San Francisco’s bridges. What I did each day—sometimes twice a day—was stand at the window looking into the wooded area and say ‘thank you’ and admire the beauty and fresh smell of pine just there outside my window. I had a goal of living someplace in the city limits within two years. I would go into the City and walk the downtown streets confidently looking for my new address. I was walking around Nob Hill on Leavenworth Street with a friend and stopped and said, “I like this building. I think I’ll live here next!” He laughed at me with an almost dismissive tone as he walked on. I laughed too, but my laughter was in thanksgiving for my future home. I lived in the apartment by the woods for only 18 months when I moved into my new studio flat on Leavenworth Street, which was only one building South of the one I stopped at four months earlier.

My Leavenworth flat didn’t have a view of a bridge, yet it had a charm I couldn't help be grateful for. Mind you, I didn’t give up my dream of having a view of a San Francisco bridge. Yet, each time I would arrive home I’d take my shoes off and slide around on the wood floors in my socks and do a sort of Risky Business-type dance in gratitude. I spoke appreciation to my little flat daily as I described the many reasons I loved being there. The flat became a meeting place for spiritual groups and soon it was considered New Thought Central. At times my 400 square foot studio, with my queen-sized bed in the walk-in closet for more space, held as many as 15 people discussing ways of achieving higher consciousness. They might have taken the elevator up four flights to get to me but their departing journey surely took longer.

One lady that frequented our group was being called home to New York City and wasn’t sure she’d even return to San Francisco but planned to sublet her place in the Marina District until she felt sure the relocation was permanent. She had placed ads and told everyone of her desire for a sublet—except for me. She had become discouraged and she told me about her dilemma as I drove her home after one of our Course in Miracles meetings. Once she realized she hadn’t told me she invited me in to see if I’d be interested. I walked up the three flights of stairs behind her thinking where’s the elevator? I remember entering as I scanned my brain for people who where looking for an apartment. I rounded the bedroom door and crossed the room and stopped at the window. I saw lights sparkling in the night and asked her, “Is that the Golden Gate Bridge?” One month later I was living there paying the same as I did for my studio downtown. Yet this time I spent reverent mornings at the window with a hot cup of tea, watching San Francisco's moody weather reveal and conceal the golden-orange bridge. Many times I’d look out and at the view and shed tears of joy and appreciation.