...in the eye of the beholder.
...only skin deep.
So many of the prominent ideas in society suggest that beauty, actual aesthetic beauty, is shallow...frivolous...unnecessary. And while I don't want my daughter or myself or any of the other phenomenal women, of all ages, that I know to gauge their value on their looks...isn't there something to be said for appreciating beauty? After all, THIS was my view on the drive to work today:
I may not be certain in my beliefs, but I know there are miracles in the world. Proof? This ⬆️ happens every morning, almost like a reminder that there is something more than us. Further proof of beauty and miracles? ⬇️
Life, new and untouched and in absolute awe of the very things so many of us take for granted...and very literally a part of me. Who knew that the very thing that would make me feel whole was a piece of me, thinking & speaking & feeling for herself?
I'm not a pageant mom, nor am I a make-afficianado of any sort. But I do fancy myself an artist of sorts, and that means I appreciate the beauty - hidden and blatant - in the world. As I said, make-up is not my thing (can you believe I turned 33 today and still can't manage eyeliner of any sort, yet alone winged?!), so it's good that I can value...not beauty, perhaps, but our natural sensibilities, those we display freshly-scrubbed after a shower.
Don't get me wrong: no one's writing home about me or seeking my natural affections...but I'm okay with that. I go to bed each night after getting hugs and kisses from my beautiful (that's right, I used the B-word) girl; I go to work with genuine joy in my colleagues, my students, and the intellectual challenges of each day; and I go through each day with relatives so amazing that I couldn't begin to dream them up for myself.
I turned 33 today. I woke up at...hmm, around 4:30am with a frantic mind & a tired soul, only to discover the gift from my loves:
It might look like a collection of paints, no more and no less. But it's so, so much more. It's a testament to the healing nature of art, whether visual or written. It's a testament to my self-induced therapy since I refuse to actually speak to people. And it's a testament to one of the most basic revelations: Life. Is. Beautiful.
Because damn, there is a whole lot of ugly floating around, but the beauty, the completely raw beauty of the world? Well, we couldn't stop it if we tried...and why would we? ❤️
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