The Ephemeral Quality

Continuing with the theme of music, pardon the pun, my husband is listening to flamenco guitar right now and I find it virtually impossible to concentrate. The plucking of the stings has a percussive quality that knocks my thoughts aside before they can make their way from my head to my fingers. It is impossible to complain about the virtuosity of the performer, but at this moment I am unable to appreciate this particular music that I would normally perceive to be beautiful. This observation seems to support the idea that beauty can only be defined as a perception not as an object - that an object, whether physical or auditory or scented or flavored, does not contain anything that can be called beautiful - that maybe beauty can only be described as a feeling like joy, or sadness, or fear.

When we recognize that an object seems to give us feeling that we are in the presence of beauty I question what is it about our relationship with the object that causes this perception?

I have often observed that interactions with objects and situations we call beautiful seem to reveal basic truths to us, truths that we may otherwise ignore while we are going about the business of our days.  Often when we experience beauty it is in a moment when we are attending to truths; that life is precious, unique, and ephemeral.