Surplus
People tend to develop the ability to critique and to reject on a faster timeline than their growth in ability to articulate preferences and put sincere words to the elements of art that truly reach them emotionally. The junior high kid can often define himself more articulately in terms of negatives: "I don't like old-fashioned music," or "romantic comedies are boring and sappy."
It can be painful to be on the receiving end of this phase of development when one has left it behind oneself, but I think it's fundamentally a very healthy and necessary tendency: the more "enlightened" positive view on preferences breeds attachment and sentimentiality that can slow down discovery of new things. A young person walks down the (now metaphorical) CD or DVD aisle and sees an endless, constantly-replenishing stream of newness. Even the old things feel unlimited and unbounded -- who could get through all of that stuff? And, with that kind of variety, why settle on yesterday's preferences?
Turns out, on the timescale of a fuller life, one can definitely make a dent in that "endless" stream, and the feeling of unbounded surplus evolves into a realization that enjoyment of art and beauty in this world are bounded in practicality. We can find ourselves hitting F5 waiting for the next thing to arrive, or wearing out our favorites, and the search costs of diving into a new genre can feel exhausting and relatively fruitless.
While surplus can help maintain our ability to be choosy in our curation, scarcity helps develop a deep sense of gratitude for the enjoyment of impactful creations. Viewing live performances of art has been a particularly meaningful example of this for me recently. While I used to be of the opinion that "live" things involve too much acceptance of flaws, versus enjoyment of the "gold version" that is put into print and released en masse. Then I began to appreciate that the "flaws" bring depth, variety, and authenticity that can and should be treasured, at least from time to time.
The latest realization -- and this is a hard one for an introvert -- is that a live performance is not merely a chance for a few hundred to several thousands of people to experience a flawed (let's say "nuanced") work individually; the event itself is more akin to a church service. "Whenever two or more are gathered" is more about the community than the individuals taken separately.
In a world that is full of conflict and division, in which people so struggle to find almost any commonality, there is a striking reverence and blessing in gathering to enjoy something together, no matter what that thing is. I want to fill my life with moments of unity in enjoyment.