I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a

Alice Walker, in her profound simplicity, once wrote: “I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don’t notice it.” Though spoken with disarming directness, these words strike at the very heart of human existence: the duty of gratitude, the sacred act of paying attention, the recognition of beauty as a form of prayer. To Walker, the purple flower in the field is not just a plant, but a message, a gift placed by the Creator. To pass by without noticing is not a small neglect—it is an insult to the hand that made it.

The origin of this reflection lies in Walker’s celebrated novel The Color Purple, where the smallest beauties of life become lifelines for characters burdened by oppression and sorrow. The idea that God desires us to notice beauty is not mere sentiment but a theology of presence. For Walker, the divine is not distant or aloof but woven into the world itself—into color, sound, fragrance, and touch. To walk by a purple blossom without pausing is to live blind to the living poetry of creation.

The ancients understood this truth in their own tongues. The Psalmist sang, “The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament showeth His handiwork.” The Stoics, too, spoke of living in harmony with nature, seeing in its order and beauty the presence of divine reason. In Japan, the tradition of hanami, the contemplation of cherry blossoms, is not mere leisure but a discipline of the soul. In every culture, there is the reminder that beauty is not trivial but sacred, that noticing it is an act of reverence.

History offers us examples of this wisdom embodied. Think of Vincent van Gogh, who in fields of wheat and skies of stars saw divine fire. Though his life was marked by suffering, he found solace and meaning in the colors of the world, painting them with such passion that generations after him would be moved. Or recall John Muir, who wandered the American wilderness and declared that to simply walk among the mountains was to pray. Both men, like Walker, believed that the failure to notice beauty was not only neglect of nature, but a failure of the soul.

The meaning of Walker’s words is thus both tender and urgent: beauty is not optional, it is essential. To notice the purple flower, the sunset, the songbird, is to align the spirit with gratitude and awe. To ignore them is to risk living in blindness, hardened to the gifts of life. In her bold phrasing—that it “pisses God off”—Walker reminds us that neglect of beauty is not innocent forgetfulness but a sin against the very fabric of creation. For if the Creator placed such marvels before us, how dare we pass by as though they were nothing?

The lesson for us is clear: cultivate the art of noticing. Do not live so hurriedly, so distractedly, that you pass by the gifts of life without wonder. Each flower, each sunrise, each laugh of a child, is an opportunity to give silent thanks. In the act of noticing, the heart is softened, the soul is lifted, and one begins to live not as a machine of labor but as a child of wonder.

In practice, this means slowing down, lifting your eyes, and opening your senses. Pause during your day to look at the sky. Pay attention to the colors in a garden. Allow yourself to be moved by a song, a smile, or the shape of a tree. Teach your children to notice, for in noticing they will learn gratitude, humility, and reverence. This is how the human heart stays alive and how the soul remains awake.

Therefore, remember Alice Walker’s words: “I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don’t notice it.” Let them be a warning and a call: do not be blind to the wonders set before you. For beauty is not a luxury, but a commandment written in every star, every blossom, every breath of wind. To notice is to honor the Creator; to ignore is to forget who we are. Let us then live as those who see, who notice, who give thanks—and in so doing, may our spirits be forever uplifted.