Blase. A French word that certainly describes the young French man standing next to me in the elevator of the Eiffel Tower.

Bored with the proceedings, he reads his novel as the rest of us ooh and aah over a view like no other.

He doesn’t so much as sneak a peak at the City of Light as it unfolds in all her beauty below us.

He is the elevator operator.

The rest of us have paid an outrageous sum to be traveling up with him. He is paid to travel with us.

I look at him reading and realize that he has become immune to the wonder, insensitive to this sensual experience, oblivious to the magic.

Blase.

It is a word of damnation upon all of us whenever we fail to see the beauty that is all around us.

It can happen at the top of the Eiffel Tower or in the shadow of the mountains to be sure but it also happens in Cedar Rapids, Iowa or Fargo, North Dakota. It happens anytime we become indifferent to the myriad of ways that speak of the wonder of creation.

The tourist is an expert on the art of blase. From tourist guides to tourist traps, over and over again we are assaulted by indifference. The magic of the Seine spoiled by litter, the profound beauty of the cathedral at Chartres tainted by souvenir shops, the Champs Elysee clogged by maniacal drivers...all tinged by a tawdry periphery of indifference.

What to do?

Look deeper. The beauty is there. Look deeper. Search a little harder.

Surely the metaphor of the tourist applies in all our lives, whether we travel or not.

How often have we been blind to what is special around us...our families or the beauty of a blue sky, the loyalty of a friend, the pleasure of hard work?

What a tragedy to miss out on the mystery and magic of life because we have become so insensitive to the nuance and subtle beauty that surround us all the time.

A hand that seeks to be held, a splash of light upon the lake, a call to a long-remembered friend...these are the enemies of the blase and the tools of the passionate.

One of the many reasons I chose to live in the Colorado mountains, and put up with three day summers and three million tourists is the utter pleasure that comes on a starry night or a sun-filled day.

Watching snow fall or aspens turn gold is a thrilling reminder of the joy that comes to those who passionately seek to unwrap the gift of life.

Maybe it is easier for those of us who live in beautiful places, but then I remember the elevator operator on the Eiffel Tower, and I remember again just how easy it is to lose the pleasure of living and become doomed to another form of existence. Blase.