I find beauty in red, deep red the color almost of blood, blood running and deep inside, but dry blood, that turns light as if the oxygen has infused light. I find beauty in wide faces, clear skin, open expressions, the smile of my daughter. How she hasn’t yet grown in incisors and how when she smiles wide I see gaps on either end of her smile. How that makes her smile look deep like a laugh.
Beauty is something I find in odd little corners. I remember a labyrinth of streets in The Albaicín in Granada, stumbling across a vine-covered restaurant, how it seemed to grow into a wall, hidden and white, the cobblestone streets, the color of lavendar. I find beauty in the seeds of the pomegranate, that means “granada,” and I like that the shell of the fruit resembles a treasure chest, the seeds are gems glinting in sunlight.
Today, warm now and slower, slowing down, I find beauty in nothing, and I don’t mean that I find no beauty but rather *nothing* can be lovely. Nothing pressing, nothing pushing, just being. Beauty.
I find beauty in the mole above Mom’s lip. She had it taken off years ago, but always it was the mark I recognized, like a penguin who knows its child by its sound, I knew Mom by her beauty mark, her hair up in rollers and a bandana covering it, a cigarette hanging from her lip reminding me that she is tough, and those thin lips trembling with anger or love. Beauty.
-Writing practice from my notebook, June 2006.
RECALL: I Find Beauty In
deep red the color almost of blood
blood running and deep inside, but dry blood
wide faces
clear skin
open expressions
the smile of my daughter
gaps on either end of her smile
odd little corners
labyrinth of streets
The Albaicín in Granada
cobblestone streets
the color of lavendar
seeds of the pomegranate
“granada,”
gems glinting in sunlight
I find beauty in nothing
nothing can be lovely
Nothing pressing
nothing pushing
the mole above Mom’s lip
the mark I recognized
I knew Mom by her beauty mark, her hair up in rollers and a bandana covering it, a cigarette hanging from her lip reminding me that she is tough, and those thin lips trembling with anger or love. Beauty
LikeLike
One of my friends keeps saying, “I want to live a slow, rich life.” I find when I hit upon that way of living (if only just for a minute), I know it’s what I want, too. This writing practice is just that…a slow, rich life.
LikeLike
Your writing makes me realized to appreciate thing we always take for granted. Those simple things we never even recognized because of too busy and we look more on the material thing. Most people which also i am belong to, never realized that life will much better and happier if we only know how to accept and appreciate simple things…. Thanks to your blog… for reminding me That there beauty in 10mins. If you only open your eyes, heart and mind. That is truly to be treasure and priceless……..
LikeLike
And what a gift back, rhosie: “That there is beauty in 10mins. If you only open your eyes, heart and mind” It’s true, isn’t it?
I took my daughters tonight to an event at the library. My original plan was to let them sit on a blanket in the park eating the picnic dinner and watching the show in the small ampitheater while I went into the quiet of the library and wrote or read magazines. And then I thought, I’m missing out on experiencing life. Sometimes I do that, for the sake of writing. But that’s not what writing is about. It’s about being present. Too often I’m not present. And that’s what your comment reminded me of – just being present.
LikeLike
Thanks for the compliments…… being present sometimes does not only pertains to physically being there….. so long they know how you value and love them…… Just always give them the assurance that no matter what happen they are always the center of your life…….. I read your blog and i learn something new today……
thanks……… hope we could be freinds……..
LikeLike
I did slow walking at Powderhorn Park tonight. Not because I’m so disciplined or structured, but because I didn’t know what to do with myself. I was looking for some grounding. I walked the grassy path, and a young girl passed me. She was about 9, with a blonde ponytail that was coming undone. Staring. Giggling. And then, once she was a comfortable distance away, she took her flip-flops off and held one in each hand (as I was doing). She turned around to watch me for a few more steps, and then she began to slow walk. And for a few amazing minutes, this child I had never seen walked in silent meditation with me.
LikeLike
Sinclair, what a grounding story. I believe that’s the way the world changes. However we walk in it, rubs off on others. It’s comforting to think she was impacted by your slow, steady walk.
Reading this is a pleasant way to start the day. I woke up feeling like there was so much to do, so little time. There is enough time; just keep walking.
LikeLike