Monday, June 27, 2005
Beauty soothes the beast.....
Ricky Buchanan had a journal entry on her website ("Not Done Living" on my Links list) today about beauty that surrounds us every day. She was able to see this beauty even when confined to a single room. Reminded me about the importance of appreciating what I do have rather than pining for what I've lost.
She went on to challenge her readers to describe what is beautiful in their lives, so this is what I told her:
"My husband. I know that may sound strange, but he really is a beautiful person. It would be much harder to cope with chronic illness without his unfailing love and support.
"My sweet pup. He is the most empathetic creature I have ever met, probably because he has arthritis and allergies like I do. He is quick to comfort me when I cry. His fur is unusually baby fine and soft for a springer spaniel.
"My computer is beautiful because it is my link to some of the most amazing people in the world. Also because it provides music and other much needed diversions from illness. And it has the software I need to express myself creatively, which is of prime importance to me.
"My home is beautiful, like your room is, not because it's the fanciest thing in the world, but because it reflects my personality and that of my husband's. When I am too ill to venture outside, I have sufficient books, movies and music to keep my little brain engaged. And my home is filled with photos of places I got to visit when I was healthier and people who are important to me.
"The butterflies who visit my back yard are beautiful. It is tiger swallowtail season where I live.....these are giant yellow butterflies with black tiger stripes. They always remind me of my mom because I saw dozens of them the summer after she died. I also enjoy the monarch butterflies that migrate here in the spring.....they are orange with black stripes.
"The miniature lilac bushes in my back yard are beautiful when they are in bloom. And the smell of the blossoms is one of the best in the world. And purple is my favorite color."
I must be doing better than I thought, to come up with so many things. Beauty may be in the eye of the beholder, but first one must make the effort to behold.
She went on to challenge her readers to describe what is beautiful in their lives, so this is what I told her:
"My husband. I know that may sound strange, but he really is a beautiful person. It would be much harder to cope with chronic illness without his unfailing love and support.
"My sweet pup. He is the most empathetic creature I have ever met, probably because he has arthritis and allergies like I do. He is quick to comfort me when I cry. His fur is unusually baby fine and soft for a springer spaniel.
"My computer is beautiful because it is my link to some of the most amazing people in the world. Also because it provides music and other much needed diversions from illness. And it has the software I need to express myself creatively, which is of prime importance to me.
"My home is beautiful, like your room is, not because it's the fanciest thing in the world, but because it reflects my personality and that of my husband's. When I am too ill to venture outside, I have sufficient books, movies and music to keep my little brain engaged. And my home is filled with photos of places I got to visit when I was healthier and people who are important to me.
"The butterflies who visit my back yard are beautiful. It is tiger swallowtail season where I live.....these are giant yellow butterflies with black tiger stripes. They always remind me of my mom because I saw dozens of them the summer after she died. I also enjoy the monarch butterflies that migrate here in the spring.....they are orange with black stripes.
"The miniature lilac bushes in my back yard are beautiful when they are in bloom. And the smell of the blossoms is one of the best in the world. And purple is my favorite color."
I must be doing better than I thought, to come up with so many things. Beauty may be in the eye of the beholder, but first one must make the effort to behold.
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