There is a platform for every stage and every being to perform. Waltzing to their song while setting the stage for their light to glimmer and shine. But behind each stage is development. That story matters more than one performance can ever tell or encompass.
Beauty – a tale as old as time. A dictation of self-worth, musings of art, a wielder of society. Why is it still such an enormous thing that contests the psyche and resilience of our lives? Sinful by nature, competitive for survival, beauty is the gateway for others to see us in a world shrouded by invisibility.
More than the decadent frosting of clouds surfacing as the show, we beg for the slice exposing the richness, layers, and complexity the face can seldom speak of. It’s understanding what went on behind it. In those moments of our lives when we are building up parts of a bigger whole that we can facilitate, beckoning a flower’s bloom, mesmerized by what it holds.
Even with this, there is a connection to seeing, feeling, and hearing. An experience of something so beautifully transformative. A shooting star shimmering stardust at the midnight hour, illuminating a sky of wishes. But is it truly just those perfect moments that are wholly beautiful?
No longer is it just the beauty. Going beyond that today with the stories we read, testimony’s given. People want to know what’s behind the mask. Uncovering what uplifts such an enigmatic portrayal of refinement. A scene isn’t just light and glamor, it’s the refined emotion woven from face to face. It’s the graceful dialogue one body shares with another, an art-form composed of seconds. Beauty means different things to different people. Neither good nor bad. Merely a tool for the musings of others who wish to fulfill a need. How you look, present yourself, is important, sometimes more so than it really should be. But one form, grossly undervalued, is refinement.
Once that would have been the case, taking things at face value, to see beauty just as the shining rock it represents. We don’t look at the lines; not the angles, nor the debris each moment took of toiling accuracy and discipline, exalting every faucet dribbling away our resolution. Exhuming the pleasurable. Witness to the weakness and brokenness it creates, and what’s transformed from it. Becoming, refining, reforming into a beautiful kintsugi, something unique. Parts of a whole, reinventing beauty. It’s being able to stand above, to circumnavigate harsh realities and still bloom with love. The face is just gift wrap.
When looking at beauty, I feel mesmerized, entranced by a thing that I can admire, to soak in as appreciation of art. Why do we sometimes falter in seeing the beauty within ourselves? Not merely the face we show, not the paintings we create, but the work. The beauty of the energy we sacrifice to restoring and building something inspiring. Beauty is not just on the stage. It is in every moment that you pick apart pieces that you refine, each making a whole. The work labored into it, giving beauty’s blossom. Beauty is the ultimate potential of something.