(unfinished. I'm too tired. I need to save it before I finish it tomorrow.)
Rub your hands together until you feel warmth. There is nothing humanity considers beautiful that isn't energy born of adversity, such as friction. Like Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, which was composed when he was utterly deaf. Or simply the luminous stars in the darkness of space, which is contrast, which is adversity, which is beauty.
From the once peaceful wisps of white clouds rolling over a calm ocean of sky leaps the condensed energy of lightning, headed for liberation from the tormented heavens it once dwelt as agitated prisoner. Just as before, all energy is manifest of adversity, and all energy is also, by nature, transcendent.
The contrasting qualities of life, like pain and pleasure, work and leisure, are mundane preoccupations of the fool deluded into existence. Transcendence is beauty, inspiration, forgiveness, timelessness, energy, and life--lying in patient wait for humans who remember they are energy, too. I used to get frustrated often, and I slowly realized it was opportunity for transcendence, born of energy, born of agitation, born of adversity, born of contrast.