Gathering Beauty

Can you name something beautiful?

If you were trying to come up with something that makes your life beautiful, what would it be?

Part of the joy, and skill, of writing is to create, conjure, and evoke imagery in order for others to see an idea, object, or scene, just as you, the writer.

I'm not certain I'm always skilled. My words tumble very quickly at times, which means the words themselves are more basic than dictionary.

A definition of beauty is: "the quality in a person or thing that gives pleasure to the senses."

With that being now defined, can you name something beautiful?

I can. I can name lots of things right off the top of my tongue.

Babies. White roses. Cello music. Waterfalls. Mount Timpanogos. The voice of James Earl Jones. (Seriously. You guys know it.) Blizzards. Mashed potatoes and gravy. (The Midwesterner in me had to say it)

I'm facing a birthday in a few weeks. Nothing monumental. No nice round decade number. Yet. But I must say...the definition of beauty has been on my mind as I contemplate aging.

I've never really considered myself beautiful. Some days I do better than others but I will never be the person turning heads for mere gorgeousness sake. And, let me tell you, over the course of this last year I can see aging, perhaps de-beautifying, happening. I'm getting the "sun spots" as I affectionately call them. Big brown freckles really, near my temples. (Yep, go on over and look to the photo at the right, you'll see 'em.) All the ladies before me have them so it is a family rite of passage. The laugh lines at the corners of my blue eyes are getting deeper with every smile. They just crinkle, crinkle.

We women are hard on ourselves in the area of beauty, desirability. So the idea of aging can be discouraging. But the thing is.... When I'm thinking of beautiful things, I am not thinking of the appearance of people. When someone suggests that I think of something beautiful - it usually is scenery, natural objects, or characteristics of people that initially come to my mind, not physical attributes.

Perhaps something like this...

You are standing on a grey stone balcony, overlooking a deep blue ocean that stretches for miles to the horizon, watching an approaching storm breaking the gathering clouds as a once gentle breeze picks up pace and begins to whip your hair, this way and that; a clap of thunder breaks silence and waves lapping the soft, grainy beach, intensify, as rain begins to pelt your upturned face and the stones beneath your small, bare feet. The soft tink, tink, tink of the drops is a symphony to the ears as the waves crash and the thunder resounds with authority as though leading a song planned just for you. In the distance, lightning flashes; thunder answers. A cacophony of light and sound plays around you; as the falling rain starts to deliciously chill your skin, you draw your arms close and blissfully sigh.

Beauty. Qualities that give pleasure to the senses.

How can that even begin to compare to physical beauty?

Physical beauty fades. If I'm having any parts of that, I can tell you, it's fading, friends, the freckles are coming.

But the joy of seeing and knowing beautiful things and characteristics in, and of, people will go on.

Writing the joy of feeling is beautiful.

The older I get, the more beauty I see and feel, because I look well past the physical to the heart. To the horizon. Where the storm is gathering in all its formidable, yet peaceful beauty.