A few days ago
someone I hadn’t seen in a long time came to visit me. We were catching up. We
noted how we had both grown older, and we began comparing notes about how that
had gone for each of us. One of the things he told me about was how much more
beautiful people had become. I realized, with his words, that my idea of beauty
had changed too. That started me on a train of thought that I want to share
with you.
I have been
delighted to discover, that one of the positive elements of getting older, is
that a person can become, more and more, themselves. I have always related to
this movement as one of becoming more and more unique. The advent of personal
uniqueness has been a hallmark of aging, in my perspective. For him, this kind
of development meant people became more beautiful! I like his perception,
because I think it is true, and because I also think it represents an important
evolution in my concept of beauty.
I have grown up in a
culture that primarily conceived of beauty in the young female form. Setting
aside, for this moment, what that has done to women, I want to explore what
this notion of beauty has done to older people. I suspect some of the
invisibility that many older folks experience is related to this way of seeing
beauty. I also think some of the revulsion about aging has its roots in this
very limited concept of beauty.
Beauty has for too
long been primarily considered an external phenomenon. It has been an aspect of
appearance. Sure, there has been some acknowledgement of internal beauty, like a
beautiful personality, but there hasn’t been a wide-spread realization that
beauty could be an innate quality that comes out with life experience and
uniqueness. Beauty then is more like a diverse eco-system, a quality of Life’s
devotion to profusion and diversity. Beauty, in this later conception, is a
combination of internal factors and a relationship with more of the whole of
Life. This notion seems more organic, humane, and lasting, than something that
involves a winning a genetic lottery.
The evolution of my
sense of beauty is also helping me perceive beauty outside the skin
–encapsulated world I’ve formerly lived in. Now, I’m much more likely to see
the complex beauty of something that has both an internal and external ability
to find a certain kind of alignment. This has been especially true in my
experience of those people and places that have endured the rigors of
existence. I’m finding I’m growing more partial to scars, marks, wrinkles, and
the wisdom derived from heartache. Beauty has become something marked by Life.
It seems to me one
of the greatest gifts of being human has been the gift of being able to
perceive the complex poignancy of Life. There is beauty in suffering the
unknown for the sake of the whole. I can’t describe that kind of beauty, I
think it can only be experienced. Beauty can be an inexplicable experience — a
way mystery has plucked a gossamer heartstring — that resonates into every cell
of being. Beauty can be a particular poignant moment, a flash of meaning
colliding with attention. Beauty can be a state of mind that is revealed with
showing up and being present. Beauty can be seen everywhere, if one is willing
to embrace it all — especially those places where the darkness and the light
combine.
I like Leonard
Cohen’s realization that the crack is where the light gets in. My way of saying
it, is that hardship is the hand of artistry. Beauty, on the way.
It helps me feel
better about being involved in this transitory soup when I think that the
experience of beauty evolves, and that as my eyesight grows dimmer, it also
grows sharper. That also seems beautiful to me. Maybe death, which is part of
Nature’s design, is really, as the poet Hafiz suggests, “a favor.” If so,
that’s incredibly beautiful.
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