Behold Beauty
The world is hard right now. Restrictions may be easing a little, yet the world is not as we knew it. As high streets, bars and restaurants open up for the summer, things feel strained. The uncertainty, the risk. Folk losing jobs and livelihoods where some businesses haven’t reopened. Staying home for hours on end, not even leaving the house if you, or your family, are classed as vulnerable. It seems like things will never go back to how they were.
In some respects, it is not such a bad thing; the pursuit of happiness through consumption, the never-ending busyness and stresses that the old way brings won’t be missed. A big positive of this pandemic is it making us shift our priorities and consciousness. To slow down; to look at what truly matters.
Each of us is experiencing complex challenges daily due to these strange times, yet wildly different to each other. I recognise we are not all in the same boat here, we are in the same storm. Our boat is as a family who was locked out of life before all this. My husband’s brain haemorrhage and stroke made us slow right down. Our world narrowed to a tiny micro view of dogged recovery, and taking minute by minute, day by day. Focussing on learning the alphabet, or on one single muscle to move.
Life became simpler. I saw with new eyes; things came into the light.
This formative experience of slow living, of life being stripped back completely, has, in a bizarre twist of fate, ensured I have been able to get through the last five months with comparative ease. Don’t get me wrong; it’s been testing beyond belief - emotional and stressful, and everything else in between. Yet I recognise the past five years of life-changing events and surrendering to daily tumultuous unknowing, has put me in good stead. I have the tools to see my way through life’s shit storms, powerful forces steering my sails.
And the most powerful of all these forces; beauty. I see it everywhere now. I think having a catastrophic event that changes the pitch and tone of your world helps open your eyes to what is on your doorstep.
Priorities shift. Our focus is sent elsewhere, zooming in to every tiny detail, life amplified. As if faced with the question of our mortality made us shake. Shaken to awaken, to smell the coffee, to wake up. Wake to our own lives, and the beauty and fragility of it all. This is where we all are now, collectively.
The wonder that is John O'Donoghue stated “In the experience of beauty we awaken and surrender in the same act” and I feel every word of this statement.
We are all grieving, we are in the depths of letting go, surrendering to all that once was. And that is incredibly beautiful. Changes are all around us, coming in thick and fast like a spring tide, sweeping us off our feet. Change is uncertain, change is awkward and unknowns make us feel lost. Yet, change is the one constant we all we have. As we navigate these changes, we in turn, change. Transformation and change can be incredibly beautiful.
If only we would notice.
The beauty of it all, the beauty of the mundane. Grandiose sunrises and breathtaking views on landscapes are stunning, yet in these times when escape isn’t always possible, it’s the daily gifts of gratitude that fuel our hearts. If only we’d take the time to adjust to ways of seeing what is before us.
They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Think of all the beauty that surrounds you. Things that seem dull and trite, are actually achingly beautiful…
That grey hair - the gift of ageing, a life lived gracefully and here for another day.
Kids insanely calling your name every five minutes - a gift that they still need you and want you; they are part of you that will be missed once they no longer call. Yet as much as you love them, those few minutes of peace, and the sensation of being alone, even for five minutes; bliss.
A piece of music, that transports you to a time and place in memory, making your heart sing and your whole being smile.
The wind rustling the leaves in the trees, the most grounding and pleasing of sounds from wonders of nature that have been on this earth longer than we have, whispering their secrets on the wind.
Dappled sunlight, the squeeze of a hand, a soft gentle smile from the baby I never expected to have.
Before he arrived, I would see the beauty in the sun rising, another day, another chance at life with my husband, who I was told would never survive or have any chance of all this living.
In the last few weeks, as we approach my son’s first birthday, I see it deep in the elemental, the beat of our heart. How wild that the heart made from your mother, and the little pieces of all those that came before you, made you. Everything is connected. The wonder of the human body. The things it can do, the most beautiful thing there is. That physicality many of us take for granted, humdrum diddly dum until something stops working.
Not only that, but our wee one reminds me daily, as he explores the world in awe and sees things for the first time. Why do we let our hearts lose this wonder of nature or beauty until we need it most? Perhaps it is to ensure that when we do need it, it acts as the balm, the pure medicine we need.
When this storm clears, we will have collectively gained perspective, to see where and how to go forward in a new light. Free to pursue ways of living that seemed impossible. With new ways of seeing and being. When we surrender to the thing we cannot control and come alive in beholding beauty, we are immersed in the moment; in the here and now. Being grateful, feeling great. The moments is ours. Beautiful.
Syreeta Challinger, July 2020.
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