A Bit About Beauty

You are beautiful – you are mystical – you are magical – yes it’s true.  You are huggable – you are lovable – you are wonderful – yes it’s true.  If anyone – ever – tries to tell you – different – spit in their face – and kick them with your shoe.  Look them in the eye – and say – “You big, stupid a**hole – I am wonderful. – Hey, f**k you!” – Because – you are beautiful – you are huggable – you are lovable – yes it’s true. (There’s a melody to accompany those lines, because it is obviously a children’s song, which is why it is censored.)

No, no, don’t hurt nobody.  We are all beautiful and magical in our own special ways.  We should celebrate our differences by merrily singing, “Tra-la-la,” while holding hands, while marveling at rainbows so intently that we can hardly contain the pointless urge to dry hump them, while kittens and puppies rain from the sky, landing on marshmallows in a stomach wrenching… heartwarming display of harmonious bliss.  (I ran this image through my mind, and it was a horror show before I added the marshmallows, no joke.)

Cynicism is common when the differences being celebrated are not in one’s perceived favour, but it is possible to lose one’s self in perceiving the whole of existence, therefore eradicating this portion of suffering attached to the illusion of self.  If that is of little comfort, rest assured that in a few years plastic surgery will easily afford anyone the ability to purchase breasts the size of beach balls, or a two foot, solid gold, vibrating penis with climate control.  Sure, you may die of a curable illness, but rest assured it will happen with a full head of hair, shining white teeth, and a throbbing erection bursting through the casket.

The collective will of humanity is powerful, but much of that power is sacrificed by the competitive divides in beauty pageants.  The more one fixates on what is reflected in the mirror, the more one offers the power of their perception to those who wish to distort it.  Between the mirror and you is a spectacular universe of astonishment, that can be unlocked and explored at any given moment.  I can see and feel it as I type this, but I can also let it fade away if I become focused on distractions I need to be mindful of.  This is a reality where the fact we are living, breathing, thinking human beings can be appreciated in typically unfamiliar ways, making the ordinary fresh, and alive, and absolutely beautiful.

The ability to impact the physical world extends far beyond three dimensional procedures, just as our beauty does.

There is nothing wrong with saying, “Hey ma!  Watch me!” before performing a backflip, but beauty can fade in the eyes of beholders if that person turns around right after, and makes fun of little Billy, because he can’t even do a somersault.  I find it beautiful when little Billy is made aware that his spirit can take flight.

Speak about the beauty in the world, and yours can shine.  Speak about the ugliness in the world, and your beauty can shine. Simply speak about the world sincerely, and your beauty can shine.  Speak of your own beauty too often, and it can begin to fade with each passing word, though it is merely shifting into a less traditional form of beauty within a subjective reality.

As much as the high-end sports car industry might contend, there is almost never a real need to aesthetically fret or obsess over physical appearances.  Tall, short, young, old, bald, cat-eyed – as long as you do not have a lower back tattoo, there is beauty, and just because others may have difficulty seeing it does not mean it is not there.  What is beautiful is always changing.  The next leap in human evolution might look odd to many of us now, because some of the prominent features will be a giant head to house a larger cranium, and hairless, four foot tall asexual bodies leaning slightly on the feminine side, hovering in the air, wearing silver robes.  They are superior to us in every way, aside from physical prowess, because they can alter matter with their minds, and so have no need for muscular frames.  I can see one of them now, floating before me.  With a warming look that pierces into my soul, it lays its hands upon mine, and says, “You are forgiven.  Your human nature is not your fault.”  My instincts tell me I know this being, and that it knows about the incident, but how?

“Because I was there, in this form, watching you.  My existence expands through all time, and encompasses all space.  Some believe in angels, but those angels are we, watching over ourselves.”

Can it read my mind?

“Yes, my son, I can.”

“Mom?  It is you!  I didn’t mean for it to happen.  I…  It was an accident.  I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry…”

“Do not cry.  The time for suffering has passed, and I am now the pinnacle of sentient life.”

“So, I can forgive myself?”

“Yes, my beloved, baby boy.”

“I’m so relieved… I’ve… I’ve… been carrying this grief for so long… I”

“Be at peace, my son.  Take mom’s hand, and we will fly to the stars, where no one can harm you ever again.”

If you can believe in the positives here, convert those beliefs into knowledge, and employ that knowledge confidently through acceptance, then a world of beauty is right in front of you, for you to embrace.

Above all, no matter how many tattoos you may have, never forget that you are beautiful – you are wonderful – you are huggable – yes – it’s – true.


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