This Is Not a Post About Politics

It's about beauty—with only a brief mention of politics.

It’s been quite the week. I, like millions of others around the world, was feeling on the verge of something else. Something different. Something that might usher in a new era of visibility, representation, communication, civility, change…

And we know what happened next. The collective duality in the ethos (at the very least on social media) was palpable. I’ve had a hard few days drudging through that thickness in combination with my own complex emotions as a woman, a mother, a concerned citizen—and especially as someone who went through a deep spiritual reckoning-turned-metamorphosis the first time a certain personality won office. It feels like phantom pains when the weather shifts; a hand subconsciously goes to the scars.

Looking up is a practice.

I loved Elise’s writing this week:

Life certainly doesn’t always abide by our preferences—often, we get circumstances we do not want and would never choose. It’s what we do next that matters.

What’s done is done. It cannot be changed. So the question I’ve been asking myself is, What is the next right step for me, for now, for this moment? It’s a worthwhile question to ask in general, not only in times of static.

I can’t imagine it’s seething in anger or gloating boastfully. Emotions have their place, of course, but they can so quickly turn sour as they loop back on themselves, trapping a person in a overwhelmingly two-dimensional state. It’s no wonder we see such caustic scenarios reflected back at us if all we feast on is outrage or fear. There needs to be something else, a fixed point outside of the chaos, to energetically tether to and escape the spin cycle. The trick is in recognizing the exit hatch opens from the inside first. Each one of us has our own way, and responsibility, to get there.

What is something that works for me? Beauty. Noticing the beauty in the simplest of things, the moments when the moment is all that matters. When every fiber of life feels rich and vibrant, white-hot with importance only because I choose to see it that way—those are the moments when I feel the most hopeful, and the most alive. It’s a place no world event can touch because it isn’t dependent on what life offers me. Instead, it’s what I offer myself.

Daily reminders of rising above.

I believe beauty is without definition. It’s no single entity or idea. Though I undoubtedly know its presence, the second I try to articulate it, I somehow mar its essence by making it a packaged “thing.”

Perhaps this is not unlike faith. Or truth. Or God.

Nevertheless, I try. Because beauty begs to be shared if for no other reason than to remind each other we are each part of it, and can each experience it for ourselves.

So here’s a list of a few beautiful moments I’ve experienced recently. That’s all this post is meant to be: Proof of beauty. Inspiration that it’s always there. A challenge to find it in the gift of this human experience, which no one has a monopoly on.

New helmets in old entryways. There’s a cannonball from 1809 lodged above the doorway and forgotten hydrangeas still holding onto their leaves.

Morning light and fading fog. The peace of a spacious dawn.

A delicious pet nat, enjoyed alone while reading a book in a cozy corner of anonymity.

The thrill of thrifted treasures, former lives finding present ones as time just changes hands.

Wide-eyed wonder reminding me that I still have it too.

Pasta on a random Monday afternoon, when the conversation feels safe enough to lull and the silence just as rich.

Snail-hunting at sunset, spotting the hidden friends among us.

The first walks of winter, when the air is laced with wood smoke and the last leaves catch the light.

Discovering the magic of schlutzkrapfen—thin ravioli with spinach and the perfect dusting of spring onion + cheese.

The number of times writing this post was interrupted by deliveries of imaginary gelato.

If you have your own moments of beauty, I’d love to hear them below.