One of the projects in my final year of studying art in high school was entitled 'Patterns and Structure: Exploring decay in the natural world and challenging my perception of beauty'; essentially, I photographed a dying leaf and found myself more attracted to it than a healthy flower and wondered why. I consider it still.
There is beauty in perfection and there is a different beauty in imperfection. Consider:
A three-legged dog who still bounds around.
A dirty, battered teddy bear.
A marriage fighting against illness.
An unfinished symphony.
A love-letter that was never received.
A tree that yields just one flower.
A human.
None of my friends are perfect (whereas, clearly, I am). The vast majority of us seem to struggle with self-image, in some way. We all tell each other the same things without believing our own wisdom. I wonder if these thoughts will help us know we are beautiful, by removing connotations of perfection. Is a model more beautiful if they are covered in make-up, or crying on someone's shoulder as they open up about their issues? Which is more real and true?
You're not perfect. If you're trying to be then I recommend you stop. The prior examples talk of love, commitment, faith, vulnerability, joy and hope. They may seem sadder, but that doesn't negate the other elements. Beauty, like these, is higher and lasts longer than happiness: it can reside past a memory. Similarly, it is not simple: like truth, it is multi-faceted, and is not stale in a Stoic eternity but changes with history.
I am writing simplistically, because I have to. Each individual is flawed in their own complex way. Death, evil, loneliness, pain, suffering: these are not beautiful. Perhaps it's the fight against them that is; the declaration of truth in the face of hardship. Fighting together. I'm being simplistic because all I'm doing is planting seeds of thought.
Learning to (truly) love ourselves seems to be one of life's toughest lessons - which makes it sound as if it's possible to learn (I hope it is) - I know it is for me, anyway. Perhaps if we learn to accept living with flaws (not to say they're "good") we will uncover a delicate beauty, which will in turn help us love ourselves. How that looks depends on the individual. When I think of each of my friends and family, I think how each and every one of them is beautiful: partly in similar ways, partly in their own way. In a paradoxical way, it seems better to accept our ageing bodies and flawed characters as they change with time, than 'try' to fit the ideal. By fighting against the cultural ideal of what it means to 'stay beautiful', we will develop a more lasting, true beauty. I'm not at all saying we don't need to change: I'm encouraging us to think again about how we need to change. Compare a celebrity with Botox to a smiling pensioner on their way to bingo with friends. One can attempt to squeeze oneself into the idealistic standards of our culture, or accept and love oneself, "warts and all".
Stop trying to be beautiful. You already are.
The question is: do you see it?
