Yesterday, I arrived at an appointment far too early—before the building was open. I forgot my phone, so I couldn’t read the book I had saved. I no longer carry a book in the car since I retired from my job as chauffeur to my kids.
So…what to do…what to do…
I maneuvered my car into a spot allowing the person next to me plenty of room to get into their car. I got out of my car to check to see if I ruined a tire and/or the rims when I miscalculated the arc of my turn as I rounded the corner and popped the curb.
That burned about 30 seconds, so I did what I do best. I observed the area. Next time, I will remember my camera.
The historic districts of any town are beautiful to me. Some of the places I’ve been to in the southern US have not been a disappointment. We have discovered that the household items we grew up with are called antiques, so I’m not exactly sure how old the buildings are in the part of town I was in. In its infancy, the population of the town mostly consisted of railroad workers, and they used wood for their buildings–which Sherman’s army burned as the North stomped through the South.
The building I parked next to was made of brick. There appeared to be a window, or perhaps the mortar was deteriorating and part of the building was damaged, but there was an obvious repair made to the building. Someone, who didn’t take pride in their work, slapped a crap load of mortar between the bricks in the opening, then the building was painted. The paint was peeling, showing the beautiful brickwork lying underneath.
I asked myself, why do people paint over brick?
My mind wandered back to the examples of beauty the man with the bison fur trench coat shared with us at our last club meeting. He had a couple of shots of some very beautiful women, and tweaked not only the exposure, but the skin tone, the shape of their eyes, the structure of their noses. He made them into his vision of beauty.
The kind of beauty that we feel compelled to emulate, because we are exposed to it everywhere we look.
True beauty lies underneath the perfect haircut, makeup, and the skinny jeans (omg, the designer of those should be boycotted). Underneath the acting as if everything is peachy, when we feel as if we are slowly dying inside. Allow yourself to be compassionate toward the inner you.
True beauty shines when all the paint peels away.