Beauty

Sometimes I wonder about all of the beautiful things in the world. If you asked anyone if there were beautiful things in the world, they would naturally agree, because everyone can remember being moved by the mere existence of something else. That is what I think that something that is beautiful is. A beautiful thing is something that, no matter your state of mind (or, on occasion, especially because of your state of mind) makes you pause for a least a split second and just revel in everything that makes up whatever that object is. Sometimes, it can be as simple as a painted canvas that you pass in a hallway. You might stop and look at it, taking in all of the brushstrokes, lines and dashes of color that come together to make the image. Then you might reflect on the image itself. One way or another, a beautiful object might have more meaning than it would inherently possess based upon whomever is gazing upon it at the moment. And the meaning, the intent, and the thought that is separate from an object that causes such reflection is what I think is one of the most special things in the entire world.

There is something so fragile and fantastically human in the act of finding something beautiful. When I look at someone I love, someone whom I consider a beautiful person, I realize that I find them beautiful because of the love that I have for them. They might be handsome without the feeling or sensory memory that makes them truly beautiful in my eyes, however, I think any sort of beauty is inherent in the projected feelings of the viewer. 

I'm not sure why I was thinking about this.

Also, my blog clock is a liar. It is five AM, not two.