Whisper
Today I feel low and quiet and vulnerable. I'm grieving in a small way over large, but old losses, and some current frustrations. I sat down in the living room for a few minutes to try to still my mind before writing. The sun breathed gold mist onto the window screen, and a watery shadow from the tree outside flickered weakly on it's surface. A rust-colored spider hung suspended in a glycerin web, flexing with the breeze and catching the dull glaze of first sunset. Everything seemed ephemeral and whispered and passive. I was worried that I was too sad to "come up" with something for this post, that I would fail, that I would somehow have to admit that the naysayers were right; it's impossible to find beauty in the world day in and day out.
In just the short time that I've spent with this project, I'm finding that the more I look outward into the world for beauty, the more I am willing to accept that there is beauty within me, too. It seems to be softening me; making me more accepting of everything around me, including the things that I don't like about myself. My friend Dana left an amazing compliment to me in the comment section of my last post, which was very hard for me to take in. But I felt a small, shy opening of acceptance towards it; or at least a willingness to let it linger on the outskirts of my acceptance. Or least a willingness to not to shove it rudely out of my sphere of existence and deadbolt the door on it, as I would have in the past when confronted with anyone telling me I am beautiful.
Tonight, I find the beauty inside of myself; within my own sadness, within the flickers and whispers of my vulnerability, within my desire to simply be still and alone and quiet with my grief.
In just the short time that I've spent with this project, I'm finding that the more I look outward into the world for beauty, the more I am willing to accept that there is beauty within me, too. It seems to be softening me; making me more accepting of everything around me, including the things that I don't like about myself. My friend Dana left an amazing compliment to me in the comment section of my last post, which was very hard for me to take in. But I felt a small, shy opening of acceptance towards it; or at least a willingness to let it linger on the outskirts of my acceptance. Or least a willingness to not to shove it rudely out of my sphere of existence and deadbolt the door on it, as I would have in the past when confronted with anyone telling me I am beautiful.
Tonight, I find the beauty inside of myself; within my own sadness, within the flickers and whispers of my vulnerability, within my desire to simply be still and alone and quiet with my grief.
2 comments:
As you said when we talked about our companion projects, beauty and compassion are entwined. Your commitment to seeing -- and experiencing -- beauty in the world is also opening you up to greater compassion, especially toward yourself.
I think this word commitment is key. Beauty was always there, both inside and outside you. Compassion was always there, both inside and outside you.
Nothing has shifted except your commitment to these things. You know they are there. You insist they are there. You whisper that they are there.
I want to stand by your side and say, "Yes. She is right. They are there. Beauty and compassion are here, there and everywhere."
It's wonderful that you are having such a positive experience just 10 days in. I have chills.
Beautiful.
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