i spend a lot of time thinking about beauty. i also spend a lot of time thinking about art. of course, art is only one of a million ways to bring more beauty into your life, but it happens to be one of my favorites.

i also spend a lot of time idly wondering why people do or don’t buy art. often, people don’t buy art because of money. sometimes that’s the real reason. sometimes, i think, it’s not.

when amy was here, i talked to her about it. her walls are full of art. every time i visit, i go home thinking that i really need more art on my walls (which are not exactly bare).

we were talking about how we are drawn to specific styles. examples: i like art that reminds me of sculpture; she likes seascapes. (as an aside, this is why i firmly believe that you can always buy what you love without worrying whether it goes with the things you already have. if you always buy what you love, your home will reflect you.)

the thing we decided is that we both know what we like. if i see something and it’s for me, i know. there is an internal pull, a drawing toward, a yes. i don’t always buy it, of course, but i absolutely know what i like. same with her.

i suspect this is not the case for everyone.

somehow, this reminded me of a story.

there was a year or two in little school where we had an art class. in one class, we chose three shapes and three colors and used them to make a piece of art. i chose red, black, and blue, and a triangle, music note, and square.

i loved the resulting piece. it was geometric and abstract and colorful. (you can tell how much i loved it by the fact that i still remember what i did a million years later. i can almost see it if i close my eyes and concentrate.)

my mother decided to frame something of ours and hang it on the wall. the only trouble was that she framed a watercolor i had done of a landscape. oh, how i hated that painting. i could not get watercolor paints to do what i wanted them to do. the sun dripped. i had to paint things that were supposed to look like actual things with a thin brush. it was everything i liked least about art, and i was embarrassed by the result.

the watercolor hung over my bed. every day, it was the first thing i saw when i woke up. every day, i would walk past it and into the next room, where amy’s piece was framed – an amazing scratch art piece of a loon. i spent years thinking that amy was an artist and i wasn’t, all because of that dripping watercolor. i thought artists could draw things that looked like the things – and i couldn’t.

of course, this is a story about many things.

it is a story about a girl who thought she had to be perfect. the watercolor wasn’t perfect, therefore it wasn’t acceptable. now, the watercolor hangs in my parents’ entryway. i find it sweet. the dripping sunset doesn’t bother me.

it is also a story about the stories we tell ourself. one of my stories was that because other people didn’t appreciate the piece i loved and was proud of as much as i did, i didn’t have good taste and it wasn’t worth anything and i wasn’t an artist. in hindsight, of course, none of that was true.

it is also a story about personal preference, which is why i thought of it. in my family, i think amy and i (and maybe helen) are the only ones who enjoy abstract art. the choice of painting didn’t mean anything about me; my mother loves landscapes and watercolors and she loved that watercolor.

it reminds me that when we are little, we know what we like. i wonder if sometimes it’s hard to hold onto that knowing as we grow older. i couldn’t hold onto it in many areas of my life, but i did manage to hold onto it when it comes to decorating my home, for which i am grateful.

one.

i’ve been thinking a lot about how i believe that beauty is a need (in point of fact, it is often included as one of the needs and desires that people try to fulfill), a need i think we would all do well to spend more of our time/energy/resources on than we do. beauty is an expression of the soul; therefore, expressing it feeds our soul, and our soul needs nourishment as much as the rest of us does. in some ways, maybe even more, because there is something about allowing our soul to express itself that helps elevate life from the mundane, that gives us a vision, that helps us go on when things are hard.

two.

expressing and appreciating beauty feels vulnerable, and it can be hard to be vulnerable.

three.

if i could gift you with the qualities i think you need in order to fill your life with beauty, they would be: trust and permission; maybe a dash of presence; and maybe a spoonful each of play, curiosity, vulnerability, and openness.

at the beginning of the year, i started a conversation about beauty.

i had been wanting to talk about beauty for a long time, but there were things in the way. i talked about some of them.

i thought that post was just the beginning and that i would continue the conversation. after all, i think about beauty all the time. after all, i have lots of things i want to tell you about beauty.

and yet here we are, nine months later, and i haven’t continued the conversation at all.

i knew something was in the way, but i didn’t know what it was.

until the moment i did.

it turns out that i can’t talk about beauty because i’m not beautiful.

this seems like such a puzzling reason.

for one: physical beauty, as defined by other people or society or culture, or by our impression of ourself based on those definitions, is not what i want to talk about at all. it is completely unrelated to what i am thinking about when i think about beauty. i talked about this in the initial conversation.

for two: one of the things i believe to be true of beauty is that it is a quality of the soul and, as such, we are all beautiful. it seems the height of hubris to imagine that i am somehow the one exception.

the good thing about letting the unconscious become conscious is that often, those thoughts dissolve in the light of day. this was one of them. i wrote this in my journal on wednesday and immediately followed it with a number of blog posts about beauty. i felt moved to share this before i begin. again.

{a photo project honoring radiance, one of my words for 2012 :: 52 photos that represent radiance, 52 photos that represent luminosity.}

i am starting to think that power and radiance might be a two year journey.

the other day, i looked in the mirror three or four times before i left the house. i felt pretty and it was such a novel feeling that i kept going back to it.

every once in a while, i will be in the midst of writing out postcards and cards for friends and it will occur to me that i am a good friend and i don’t know why i always think that i’m not.

the day before i left for spain, i organized my day in order to buy fresh bagels from panera and spent time trying to figure out how to pack everything so there would be room for them. i had asked my sister if she wanted me to bring her anything. later, it occurred to me to ask if her roommates wanted me to bring them anything as well; one of them wanted bagels. while i was driving around, i was wondering why i always think that i’m not a nice person, when buying bagels didn’t seem like something that a not-nice person would do.

many of the people i love are wonderful writers. every time i read a piece of their writing, whether it be a blog post or an email, i wish i could write like them. a while ago, i read through a bunch of my favorite posts because i was looking for one that i could repurpose for a project. as i was reading, i realized that i can write. what i mean by that is – when i really want to talk about something, i can usually find a way to express my thoughts and feelings in a way that feels good to me.

shortly after having one of these thoughts, another thought pops into my mind, which is, “wow, i am vain and egotistical and think highly of myself.”

i have decided that the reason positive thoughts feel so uncomfortable and wrong is because i am not used to them. after all, they are a new development. after all, i have years of believing the opposite. after all, i have years of being taught that it is bad to say nice things about yourself.

i think i want to practice more.

i think i also want to take the resulting “but this is wrong and bad and i am wrong and bad” less seriously. i am guessing it feels a lot worse in my head than it actually is. (sort of like how, if you’ve spent your life trying to please other people, giving your opinion on something small, like whether or not you liked a certain movie, feels really big and possibly relationship-ending.)

truth be told, i have a feeling that we could all probably stand to give ourselves a lot more credit than we do.

i sat in the cool living room last night and shared a bag of popcorn with atlas. ten pieces for me; a piece for him. twelve pieces for me; two pieces for him. five pieces for me; a piece for him. twenty pieces for me; two pieces for him. (i think atlas would have preferred if the quantities were reversed.)

sharing popcorn leaves much time for thought.

“We like to pretend that our generous impulses come naturally. But the reality is we often become our kindest, most ethical selves only by seeing what it feels like to be a selfish jackass first. It’s the reason .. our most meaningful relationships are so often those that continued beyond the very juncture at which they came the closest to ending.”

– from Tiny Beautiful Things by Cheryl Strayed

the thing that i find myself thinking a lot lately – and it came to me again while nibbling popcorn – is that atlas has seen the very best of me. i have been the best version of myself with him. i have been sweet and loving and kind and patient and gentle to a degree that i wouldn’t have believed possible.

atlas has also seen the very worst of me. i have been the worst version of myself with him. i do not like to remember those moments, though as i grow older and wiser and kinder, it is easier to forgive myself for them. it seems very true that in every moment, we really are doing the best we can.

there have also been many many moments in between those two extremes.

for his part, i think it’s safe to say that atlas has been all versions of himself. (i would say that he’s been good and bad and everything in between, except i don’t really think dogs are good or bad; they just are.)

from the second i looked into atlas’ big eyes through the screen door, i wouldn’t have traded him for anything. after all these years of loving and learning together, that love feels like a teaspoon in the ocean of today’s love.

no matter what happens or doesn’t happen in the future, atlas is indeed one of the great loves of my life. the best and truest prayer i can offer on his behalf is “thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Dario understands when I say that Buttermilk is the great love of my life. I know Buttermilk better than I have known any human, and he surely knows me better than anyone.”

– from All That is Bitter & Sweet by Ashley Judd

i don’t really have a point, except to say that when i look at atlas, it is easy to see that love is messy and beautiful.

i want to talk about style and why it is important right now. the trouble is that i keep coming up with more and more reasons why it’s important for me – it’s a reflection! being my own expert! i am a thoughtful curator! when x happens, then y can happen! honoring my body! – and if i write about them all, this is going to turn into a novel.

so, let’s start with one of them.

i found myself sobbing on the drive home from an afternoon that included shopping so i followed the tears to their source in my journal.

it was a long meandering trail. i think i will just share it with you.

begin journal entry.

first, i was thinking about going dancing and how one of the troubles with it is the inevitable, “but what do i wear!” and how it feels vulnerable and silly to ask that question. i think that same thing trips me up for other activities.

it made me wonder if i think that people whose style i am drawn to must know how to do things that i want to do. or that they know how to do things in general. and that their sense of style somehow reflects that knowing. so clearly i can’t have a sense of style because i don’t have that knowing.

looking at people’s clothing is one of the ways in which i tell myself that i am an outsider. that of course i don’t (or won’t) fit in because i don’t know how to dress like that.

it feels like it has something to do with belonging.

it seems common to think that the right clothing makes you belong. on the one hand, i imagine that if i had the right clothing, i’d feel like i belonged. on the other hand, i imagine that unless i belong, i can’t have the right clothing, because clearly it’s the belonging that makes the clothing possible. clearly that feels like something that is impossible to achieve.

it feels like it has something to do with homecoming too, as in, coming home to yourself.

do i think that the right clothing makes you feel at home in your own skin? or do i think that’s how it works? but i know that clothing hasn’t made me feel comfortable in my skin so clearly you have to feel at home in your skin and then you have the right clothing – and maybe i think that’s impossible? but do i really think it’s impossible to feel at home in your own skin?

is it something about seeing what i want and having a sense of how i think it will make me feel – and knowing that it truly won’t make me feel that way so it seems impossible to get to the feeling if i know deep down that the thing i think will get me there won’t get me there at all?

that does make sense. it seems like it would show up more clearly in fashion because it’s easy for me to look at something and know that i like it and not be able to see at all how i get to be the person who can wear it.

i wonder if it’s partly “now is not then”.

there was a version of me who did wear clothes that she liked and felt cute in. she remembers that clothing didn’t do the magical things i suspect she always thought it would.

(because of course, in my head, it was the girls who were cute and thin and looked cute in what they were wearing who were popular and got the boys and also seemed to be comfortable wherever they went or whatever they did.)

that version of me remembers that it didn’t work that way for her. she didn’t get the boy or feel at home in her body or feel at home in the world or feel cute enough or thin enough. she still felt wrong underneath. horribly wrong. and eventually things became hard and sad – and then out went the cute clothing and in came the fleece pants.

i understand that clothes aren’t the thing that changes everything (except in the sense that they can help you practice and remember and focus). i understand that it’s actually the inner work that changes things. but that version of me doesn’t know that.

ohhhhhhhhhhhh.

it is bigger.

it is “now is not then” and it is also that i can see that now it is different.

this time, my style is not changing (wait, can you call fleece pants a style?) because i think it is going to magically change things and make them better. it is changing because now i am doing the work that actually matters. this time, the outer changes are a reflection of inner shifts, and reflecting inner work on the outside feels big and scary.

end journal entry.

clearly, in my case, retail therapy is highly effective!

{a photo project honoring radiance, one of my words for 2012 :: 52 photos that represent radiance, 52 photos that represent luminosity.}

i have to tell you a funny story about radiance, at least it’s funny to me, hence the reason i have only one photo – for radiance.

without planning it, i have spent a lot of time this year on beauty and style and appearance. i bought some new clothing. i went through my closet multiple times, each time saying goodbye to more items that didn’t fit or that i didn’t love or that didn’t feel comfortable or cute or flattering. (it was too uncomfortable to do this in one fell swoop.)

at the moment, there is nothing in my closet that i do not love and feel good in. it is such a strange feeling. i often open my closet door and think, “but i just want to throw on something that doesn’t look cute!” that thought makes me laugh, because it is the opposite of how i thought i’d feel when i got here. this is not to say that i don’t like it; it’s just quite the identity change.

in the past month, i spent time and money on a pedicure and an eyebrow wax and highlights, things that were long overdue. i’ve always wanted to get my eyebrows waxed, but it seemed unnecessary or silly or indulgent. (for me. not for others.) i even bought a hint of makeup! (i feel like i am learning to be a girl at 35.)

i think about all of this a lot, partly because i love style anyway, and partly because sometimes i worry that this is a distraction, not important, even though deep down, i know that it is exactly the right thing to be focusing on right now. there is something about it that is very very important.

one day, i told a friend of mine that maybe the reason it is important is because it’s related to power – one of my words for 2012 – which i think of as wholeness. it seems like a way of giving attention and focus to my body. i am a mind person. my longstanding pattern is to give no attention to my body, unless it is to berate or punish it.

she told me that she thought i was going to say it was related to radiance!

i was writing this morning and i started laughing, because radiance seems so obvious in retrospect.

it reminds me of when someone told me that i need to be taking more risks. i completely agreed, and i was at a complete loss. i could not think of anything to do. a year later, i realized that the thing that scares me the most is relationships and emotional vulnerability and using my words. that was where i needed to be taking my risks. it was so obvious (and obviously impossible seeming in that moment) that i didn’t even see it.

the same is true for radiance. when i knew that radiance would be one of my words for 2012, i had no idea what on earth i could do to focus on it. i thought about it over and over. i was at a complete loss. i could not think of anything to do.

then, i somehow started thinking about things related to beauty and style and appearance. the right thing to do was so obvious that i didn’t even see it. until half a year later when i connected the dots. (well, when my friend connected the dots for me.)

i might chuckle about this for the rest of the year.

i feel the urge to share a little about where i am these days, only in a perfectly imperfect fashion, so it’s possible this may seem more rambling than usual. i am just warning you in advance.

for the past many months, i’ve felt the occasional urge to apologize for neglecting my blog. i have managed to restrain myself. partly because blog writing and online time ebbs and flows, much like everything else in life, so change feels natural and inevitable and expected. partly because i am trying to break a bad habit of feeling like i need to apologize for pretty much everything. partly because i think the only person who thinks i am neglecting my blog is me, and that’s only because i have been blogging almost daily since 2007 so anything less than that feels like neglect. i like to blog when i feel inspired. i don’t want to turn it into a should.

i came home from spain feeling rather discombobulated and things have been shifting ever since. well, they were shifting before that – and have been for a long time – but it feels even deeper now.

i am in an interesting place for me. i feel very wordless. there are so many things i want to talk about – style, how beauty is a need, morocco and disappointment, finding my way to my own truth, books and reading and holding a vision, why i cried after buying a pair of paige jeans .. the list goes on and on. and yet i remain without words for any of it.

when i think about it, it makes sense that i am wordless. i am going through identity change and inner shifts at a faster and faster pace. right now, i am rewriting old stories – stories that say that i am worthless, that people don’t like me, that i don’t deserve friendship and love, that i am ugly on the outside and inside. i am learning that what i feel and need and want is important. i am learning that i can go after what i want and get it. i am learning to use my words in relationships. i am learning that people can be annoyed with me and it’s not the end of the friendship. i am learning to eat when i’m hungry. i am changing my patterns of punishing my body and myself for perceived flaws/failures. i am learning how to be vulnerable. i am learning to bear disappointment. i am learning how to not take things personally and how to not to see rejection where it doesn’t exist. i am learning that i am the expert on my own life. i am learning to take emotional risks. i am uncovering and shifting old stories that keep me from doing things i want to do. (goodness. i didn’t realize how much i was shifting until i wrote this and i didn’t even write all of it. clearly i don’t do anything half-heartedly.)

it makes sense that i am wordless. i don’t exactly know who i am from day to day. this is not to say that i am changing; it feels more like i am finding my way back home.

instead, i am refilling my well. i am spending time with friends and exploring portland and sitting in cafes and eating ice cream and hiking. i am making my current offerings even more congruent and working on new offerings related to stories. i have completely overhauled my wardrobe, am finding my way to my own style, had my first brow wax, bought makeup, and my hair is sun kissed again. (someday, i want to write about why this is important for me to focus on right now.) i am putting effort into the things i thought i would do or have someday. someday when i was finally successful enough or thin enough or whatever enough. someday when i was finally enough on the outside to make up for what i thought i wasn’t on the inside. someday when i was finally worthy of the things that i thought were reserved for other people – things like friendship and love and beauty.

it is an interesting, if unusual and unexpected, place to be.

something that i learn over and over – and was reminded of again this evening – is that when there is a thought rolling around in my head that feels big and real and true and painful, the best thing i can do with it is to tell someone. not anyone – but someone who can listen and receive it with love. it never feels as big and real and true once it’s been witnessed.

i was thinking about how helpful it is for me to be able to speak (or write) my thoughts, and it reminded me that if i have any superpowers, one of them would be that i am very good at making people feel safe enough to be vulnerable.

if there is something rolling around in your head that feels big and real and true and painful, and you want to be witnessed, i want you to know that you are welcome to share the thought with me. just send me an email. i have a heart full of love and compassion, and i am happy to listen.

{i suspect that my list of what i am thinking about when i think about beauty may become an extremely irregular series.}

when i think about beauty, i am thinking about:

the juice of a very ripe peach dripping down your chin. a shy smile. the smell of roasting cauliflower. the two bluebirds that visit my patio every day that i’ve named harold and kumar. freshly painted (mint green) toenails. the smell of the first ripe strawberries at the farmers’ market. rejoicing with a friend when they receive good news. the salty smell of the sea.

the call to prayer echoing through the medina. wading in an icy-cold river. an unexpected invitation. the spark of an idea. fresher than fresh orange juice. the throat of a tiny bird vibrating as it chirps. soft skin. the so-red-it’s-almost-purple of a field of clover. the wind through my hair. a breath in, hallelujah – a breath out, hallelujah. a fuzzy caterpillar crawling across the path.

the soft down of a baby duckling waddling after its mother. when atlas cocks his head sideways and looks at me intently as if he’s trying really really hard to understand me. hope. a fluffy cloud with backlit edges. sharing a moment of connection with a stranger. when someone waves from across the park. a clap of thunder. sharing a meal with friends. a dragonfly glistening in the sunlight. feeling heard.

a flock of birds dancing in the air in unison. the bright green of new pine needles. big clumsy bumblebees. a whispered confidence. a message from someone i love. words like peony, elucidate, and melancholy. flower petals on the sidewalk. possibility. a candle flame in the dark. inner stillness. a hug. the fiery excitement of someone sharing one of their passions. the color blue.

when i think about beauty, i am thinking about all of this and so much more.