There is something beautiful to be extracted from discovery. Whether it be objects, events, people, or even emotions. A detective, plunging into the work of travesty to harvest breadcrumbs from debris, matching edges, chasing the mosaic. Puzzles pieced together, machinations slowly syncing in a perfect rhythm. Without an attempt at discovering what we don’t know or understand, how can there be a beautiful result? There are a myriad of people who find beauty within creation, others in the final product. A last perfect revision to view and relish in. But what of the discovery? Traipsing through eluded truths, a breaststroke away from our proclivities? The unknown is where we find the most beauty. But is it beauty through character or experience?
There is a disturbance festering through everyone in various ways, ricocheting from gnosiophobia. It’s an abstract ambiguity trailing fear, stress, and anxiety amongst the terrain through the wreckage of its tornado. Plummeting through roofs with an onslaught of terror and mayhem, maniacally ripping apart the comfort cradling our hearts. We fear something, while having some merits, does that condone the practice of confining everything within our small boxes of familiarity? There is beauty in the security of a comfortable structure, whether good or bad. Hot coffee warming your mind, as dawn light illuminates your skin with the heat of a kiss. Getting ready for your day, to view the environment with the smell of transcendence. Familiar, listless conversations about the redundancy of recycled relationships about the same scenarios. Beauty is infinite, yet our worlds, even with a phone, just seem to recede within the confines of our private bubbles. Where nothing and no one can hurt us.
This is a false dichotomy. How can we live a rich, beautiful life without consulting all the faculties of our hearts? The unknown drips with promise and nectar. Mathematicians making sense of numbers I wouldn’t dare look at. Archeologists piecing lives from nothing but scraps left to diagnose. What makes a movie so perfect? Life is a terrifying risk; the beauty is in discovering its intentions for yourself. Each of us has an unknown horror settling within us, a thing we would rather forget, wouldn’t divulge, wouldn’t discover. But what if that very thing keeps you from the rainbows that never could quite reach you?
The reason we don’t reach out to discover the unfamiliar is through forfeiting our power to be consumable to our pain. Letting it inhibit us, control and influence us, never allowing us to see what beauty life gives. Never daring to see the sun rise in our lives. It’s a terrifying thing to do, undertaking the isolation of the consequences entirely on your own. It is through this arc, as characters in our own lives, that we unearth the entirety of who we are, and can be, through the experiences of discovery. Making our own versions of endings. There is no ending without a middle. It’s in that very middle that we see a person developing, sipping on the experiences divulged to a person. Good, bad, and the murky middle that makes any discovery that much richer, deeper, and more meaningful.