Call me weird, but I have always found the term "beautiful" to be rather ambiguous. Much like perfection or other somewhat superficial accolades, "beautiful" is an simply an opinion of an individual or group with like minded views. Through my eyes I have seen a variety of beautiful things, but there has never been a concrete model in which to judge; it just is beautiful or it isn't. A father taking care of his child, while so many other men have dropped the ball for whatever reason, is beautiful. The look in her eyes when, for an infinitesimal moment her mannerisms scream she's unsure of herself, but you let her know without saying a word she's everything; that's beautiful. A kid landing that first real job after making his way through school and all the ills of the world; that's beautiful. In terms of a particular place, I could describe some serene beach that stretches for miles with the water so blue it seems as it was painted, and sun-rays so perfectly placed they seem nothing short of an opening to heavens gates, but that's too easy. For me, the city, the all-ambiguous place of success and struggle, has always been a symbol of beauty. The buildings sitting amongst the clouds, for me, always produced goosebumps and some weird inspiration to attain some impossible goal. For some, hiking to the top of a mountain is an achievement, but such "goals" never did it for me. Climbing the ladders of a corporate office or any office for the matter, seemed much more beautiful than looking out at the wilderness. From the businessman discussing some fabulous idea to the hot dog vendor bundled up in the dead of winter in hopes of making enough to buy his kids extra presents, its all beautiful to me. Its not perfect, but it has always been my muse and go-to whenever I needed that lift up. Inspiration and motivation will always trump some scenic view. "Beautiful" isn't a person, place or thing; its an idea, an idea that is in no certain terms definable.
No comments:
Post a Comment