Lately, during the day, I have been preoccupied with a particular notion to kind of let myself pass away, to look past my own shortcomings and failures and sadness, and look towards other people, other places, other times, and other faces. That this world is hard, that this world is sad and un-beautiful is no real surprise to most of us who have lived in it for some time.
But to find beauty in a rather ugly world, in a world that, for the most part, would not reveal its true self, is a much harder task, and one that I, unknowningly, have found myself taken. That path is overgrown in my own mind and in my eyes, hard to push through, hard to see past. That carwrecks, handicaps, personal and impersonal imprisonments have banished us from a place where we can smile all the time. That the unlovely can be loved, that ugly people, rather inside or out, can be found in the position of being in loved or in loved to, I think, points to a fascinating truth not found normally in our societal books, philosophies, or television programs. I have always heard, "there is someone for everyone", and for the most part that seems to ring true. Even grotesque is beauty, in its own right, and if truly beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
And this brings an interesting point to mankind, or maybe just to me, who seems constantly stuck five years behind most everyone else in their own personal autonomy and self actualization. The unlovely are loved, and passionately, at that. Death, dead animals, dead people, dead children in some weird format are a beacon towards hope in an otherwise hopeless world. There is a final point, there is an end, should comfort some.
But the idea that there is love for us who have are not on magazine covers (and even for those who are) is quite a nice sight for sore eyes. We who are despised and reprimanded will have our day in the Sun, because, if nothing else, we are loved when we shouldn't be.
I'm late for work.
