We had a freeze last night. This morning, I sat with the sunrise and watched as tiny, beautiful, seemingly glass spheres of frost clung to the trellis in our garden. As the sun rose higher, they gave way to their natural properties, melting and beginning to drip. Each droplet caught the morning light, sparkling for a brief moment before disappearing into the earth below.
I found myself too spiritually moved to even consider reaching for my camera—a chance for macro photography I would have jumped at not so long ago. But sometimes, it’s enough to simply experience the beauty without trying to capture it. It was a quiet and fleeting spectacle—something so simple, yet profoundly moving.
In that moment, the thought struck me: why must beautiful things always feel so temporary? I think that’s why I used to feel so compelled to capture such moments with my camera—an effort to preserve their beauty before it faded. But today, it felt different. There was a peacefulness in letting go of that urge and simply enjoying the experience. It felt so much more intimate—a deeply personal moment with the God I believe in, surrounded by an energy that felt profoundly healing.
There’s a quiet spiritual truth hidden in the fleeting nature of beauty. Whether it’s the fragile frost melting in the morning sunlight, the brief bloom of a flower, the shimmer of a rainbow, or the delicate, otherworldly presence of a rare orchid mantis—a stunning creature I was reminded of in a short video this morning—these impermanent wonders softly whisper profound truths about life, faith, and the divine.
At first glance, the temporary nature of these things can feel like a loss. Why would something so beautiful, so perfect, be designed to fade so quickly? But perhaps the fleeting nature of beauty isn’t a flaw—it’s a message. These moments of wonder are invitations from the universe, or perhaps from the divine itself, to pay attention.
When we encounter something breathtaking, knowing it won’t last, we’re called into the present moment. We pause, we marvel, and for that brief time, we’re connected to something greater than ourselves. These experiences validate the idea that life isn’t just a series of random occurrences—it’s a tapestry of intentional, sacred moments meant to awaken us to the deeper reality beneath the surface.
Impermanence teaches us to let go of attachment. In the spiritual sense, it’s a reminder that nothing in this world—no possession, no status, no physical form—was meant to last forever. And yet, these fleeting moments of beauty provide profound validation that there is more to existence than meets the eye. The short life of a butterfly or the radiant colors of a sunset aren’t meaningless; they are messages, reflections of a divine force that delights in creating, in inspiring awe, and in pointing us toward the eternal.
When we witness these fleeting wonders, we’re reminded of the eternal truth that beauty is not about permanence—it’s about presence. A flower’s bloom isn’t diminished because it lasts only a season. Its brief existence reminds us of the cycles of life, death, and renewal—a spiritual rhythm that mirrors our own journeys. The impermanence of these wonders invites us to trust that even as things pass away, they leave behind something greater: inspiration, connection, and a sense of the sacred.
Perhaps these fleeting moments are divine whispers, saying: “This is what I can do. If I can create something this extraordinary, even for a moment, imagine what I can create within you.”
From a spiritual perspective, the beauty of impermanence validates the idea that we, too, are part of something far greater than ourselves. Just as the orchid mantis doesn’t live long but captivates the hearts of all who see it, we’re reminded that our time here, though finite, can still be meaningful. Our lives, like the beauty we witness, are expressions of something divine.
This is why the fleeting nature of beauty often stirs such deep emotion. It’s not just the loss of the moment that moves us—it’s the way it mirrors the deeper truths of our spiritual journey. We see in the flower, the sunset, or the orchid mantis a reflection of the sacred cycles of creation and transformation. We are reminded that beauty, in its transience, is a gift meant to inspire us, to awaken us, and to guide us toward gratitude for this moment, and for the divine hand behind it all.
So, when you encounter an experience so beautiful, even one that moves you to tears, allow it. That beauty isn’t just for your eyes; it’s for your soul. It’s a moment of connection, of validation, of spiritual inspiration that reminds you there is a greater design in all things. It’s not about how long the beauty lasts—it’s about the way it touches your heart and opens your spirit to something eternal.
In this way, impermanence isn’t a loss. It’s a reminder that we are part of a divine cycle of creation and renewal. And in those fleeting, breathtaking moments, we glimpse the eternal truth: that all things, even the most temporary, carry within them the fingerprints of the divine.
The Twin Tree Project 