Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance Sucked.

My own opinion of course. I'm not going to justify myself or write a book review, just sayin'.
I mention it because there is one concept from that book that stuck with me, or more correctly, that I bastardized with my own interpretation because Pirsig's was gibberish.
Pirsig's idea was that things are imbued with 'quality', a vague term for a mystical property that...y'know I don't understand his bullshit concept.
My personal interpretation is that certain things have a mystical property that sets them apart from the majority of like things. It's something undefinable really, and usually when I reference it I'm thinking of creative works, like art or music or film or lit.
For something to have quality as it pertains to my personal lexicon (I can't begin to tell you how much I love the word 'lexicon'), it needs to fit some basic criteria. It has to be transcendent for starters. Not a work about the subject of transcendence, not hallucinatory, just...transcendent. Something that traverses boundaries of genre, image, class to strike a chord within the very spirit. It can be as a simple as a line from a song that gives you a chill or a thrill, a particular twang or vibrato in a vocal, a snippet of brilliant imagery from a poem or story (Walt Whitman for example, rambles on endlessly, almost incoherently and then you'll come across an incredible turn of a phrase that seems to define your very being), it can be as complex as the chaotic cacophanies of a tchaikovsky concerto. The thing is that it must resonate with your universe, if you can dig that. It's catalytic in that the initial sequence of neurons it sets of starts a massive synaptic reaction exploding like fireworks in the base of the brain. From there it becomes a psychic/physic harmonic, a slight buzzing that you can feel from your bone marrow to your split ends and cuticles. I don't think that quality is a homogenous property, easily quantified or measured. It's subjective, with the individual as node resonating in accordance to the frequency of their spirit or soul or chakra, resonating with the essence of their is-ness. And I think that perhaps it has a purpose, like a homing signal of sorts, a beacon towards peace maybe. It's intrinsic, looped into the underlying fabric of time/space/infinite is, a way for the symbiote souls and organisms of the universe to bind. At its utmost it binds binary stars together in a pseudo-eternal cosmic tango. It assembles galaxies and nebulae. At its smallest it's the magic that draws particles together into unbreakable bonds. On the human level it connects kindred spirits through harmonics synchronicity serendipity intuition inhibitions on exhibition neuroses firing interhuman synapses through the unified field. Beyond the illusion of human strivings it connects the the soul to the cosmos and to the infinite, lifts the curtain on the illusion for moments of enlightenment and heightened awareness. You know what's funny?
I can find quality in Stranded at the Drive In by John Travolta. True story.