Beholder

To preface:
I read a lot of blogs.  Friends.  Acquaintances.  People I've never heard of.  Political, religious.  So many topics, so many people, so many words.  One of my favorites in the world belongs to a friend of mine.  Its interesting to me, in the digital age, how that word has changed our perception.  When I was a kid, a friend was someone you played with.  They lived across the street, or shared a class.  Someone you actually saw face to face with some regular frequency.
The internet has changed all of that.  I have more than a few "friends" whom I've never actually met.  People from all over the world that I have come to care for quite deeply.  Based on words alone, I have learned about people I would have otherwise never even known existed.  These people have made me laugh.  Made bad days good.  I have shared their joys, triumphs, failures, jokes, stories, and even recipes.
It seems that people cross cyber paths more frequently now, than real paths.  The case can be made, (and has often been) that this is kind of sad.  Personally, I don't think so.  Although true that I would absolutely LOVE to meet every single person I know from FB or other sources IRL, the fact is, with a lot of them, this just may not be possible.
I don't know when Deena Marie and I first started talking online.  I'll never forget the first time I ever saw her.  It was the first play I went to when I moved to SLC.  She was one of the actresses, and sort of blew my mind.  Her performance was staggering.
We did not meet that night.
I have no memory of how we became friends on Facebook.  I typically don't add new people, but in this case I must have, simply because I knew who she was from the show, but she would of course had no clue who I was.  I just don't remember doing it.  I have no recollection of when.  I just know that for a few years now she has been on my friends list, and I've followed her life in the same way I follow everyone's life who happens to show up daily in my feed.
Over time either one of us would occasionally comment on the others post.  Make jokes, remarks, whatever.  It's how I do.  I think though what sparked friendship beyond casual comments however, was our blogs.  We've each remarked to the other how much we enjoy each others written work.
And I do.  In all honesty, I can't get enough.  I have her blog address bookmarked on my home computer, and in my phone for easy access.  She has moved me deeply by what she has written.  She has no shortage of talent, and if you don't know her, or have never read her blog...I recommend you give it a shot.  You'll not likely be sorry.
The reason I bring this up now is this.  We though that it might be fun, interesting, I'll go ahead and say neat (a word I don't use lightly), to attempt a little writers experiment.  It was suggested that we both write on the same topic.  Each coming at it from our own perspective.  Without consulting one another, or discussing beforehand what would actually be written, just take the topic and run.  See what happens.
The initial problem was the topic itself.  What the hell should we write about.  So it was put to the public.  Our topic was assigned, and agreed upon...and now here we are.  If you're reading this because you follow Deena's blog, and she linked you here...thank you.  Its likely you have no idea who the hell I even am.  I know your time is valuable, and I appreciate you spending a bit of it with me.  If you are reading this because you follow my blog, and are now curious as to the other side of the same topic, please go to http://beanerlarue.blogspot.com/2012/09/the-nature-of-beauty.html

The agreed upon topic of the post is

The Nature of Beauty.

and so to begin.

Once upon a few years ago, my not yet ex wife handed me a book titled 'The Beauty Myth'. I did as I do with all books that are given to me.  I read the blurb on the back, and became a bit excited to read it.  I gathered that it was going to address topics that I've always been interested in.  As the title suggests it seemed as though it would discuss how the idea of beauty has evolved over time, and not for the better.  How popular media and corporations have abused the idea of beauty to a dangerous degree.  I was fascinated and started reading almost immediately.  I didn't make it past the introduction.  One of the very few times in my life I stopped reading a book that was gifted to me.
The problem was that it was an immediate attack on me.  Personally.  Sure the author didn't use my name, but never before in all my life, have I felt so much the criminal for no reason beyond having a penis attached to my body.  The author made it quite clear that for no reason other than the fact that my extra x chromosome grew a little tail and became a y, I had inherited the birthright of villain, before even taking my first breath outside the uterus.
I had opened the book, already prepared to agree with whatever she had to say on the actual topic.  Instead I never even got to it.  Apparently, all that is wrong with the world.  All the horrible images.  All the bulemia, all the anorexia, all the self loathing that is forced upon women through print, and digital media...is all my fault.  Guess I'm sort of a douche that way.

Funny thing...I think beauty really IS a myth.  At least as far as what's being sold to us as beauty.  All the creams.  All the clothes.  All the toxins we can eat, swallow, or rub into our skin to make us more beautiful.  All the gym memberships, the anti-age creams, the weight loss pills, the posters, the billboards, the tanning salons, the hair salons, the nail salons,  the advertisements, the guarantees, the surgeries, the workshops, classes, all the fucking things. They are all of them there, so someone can feed your insecurity about how you look, and whether or not someone will fuck you, and take your money.  They toss around the word beauty.  They throw it in your face, as though its something you don't already have, but for a nominal fee, and a pinch here, a pluck there, and 200 dollars later...it too can be yours.

Drink Coke  - Bill Hicks.

The perfectly symmetrical face to sell eye liner.  The unbelievably chiseled naked bodies, to sell clothes.  The gorgeous sunset to sell erectile dysfunction drugs.  The bikini clad girls to sell beer.  All the pretty to sell all the ugly.

Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels. - Kate Moss.

I guess in this disturbingly cynical opener, the nature of beauty is to destroy and impoverish.

Once upon a decade or so ago, I went with a group of friends to the new movie 'American Beauty'.  I enjoyed the film quite a bit.  I was quite taken by it, and went along for that ride all the way...until...
until...
Until I was forced to sit through watching a piece of trash caught in a crosswind and was told it was the most beautiful thing ever seen.  I laughed out loud.  Really?
It's a fucking plastic bag...blowing in the wind.  That's it?  That's the pinnacle of beauty?  I wracked my brain.  Maybe I was missing something.  Maybe there was symbolism or something I wasn't picking up on.  I dedicated FAR too much thought to the idea.
It seems like now...pretty much anything can be beautiful.  All that has to happen, is that someone has to label it as such.  A stock picture with an inspirational quote.  A simple, basic, line drawn facsimile of a rose.  A well placed witticism.  I'm told all these things are...or have been...beautiful.

I suppose in this also cynical thought, the nature of beauty is simply to lower its own standard.  If everything is beautiful...how can anything be?

Once upon about four months ago, my girlfriend of over four years told me that she thought it was time for us to part ways, and explore our lives separately.  It was a devastatingly heartbreaking moment.  I for a couple moments couldn't breathe.  I was in pain.
For days.
Weeks.
Maybe still to some degree.

At first was the anger of course.  Not directed at her...or really AT anybody.  Just sitting.  Existing.  Taking up space inside of me.  The anger that accompanies pain, and insecurity.  The ideas of waste.  Wasted time. Wasted effort.  Wasted years of my life.

Then of course, once I put my head back on, I understood that none of it was a waste.  That the time I had spent with her was wonderful.  All of it.  Even the bad parts.  The joy I had with her was something pretty special to me.  It really was...beautiful.
Our life together.
Our conversations.
All the things we shared.
Was born out of beauty.

I was not able to move on, move forward, until I allowed myself that moment of clarity.  I needed to beauty, to overcome the pain.  I needed the joy, to let go of the sorrow.

I think in this particular situation the nature of beauty is to build.  To allow progression.  To inspire epiphany.

See ultimately that's the thing.  Beauty can build or destroy.  It can inspire love, and jealousy.  It can steal your breath, or drive you insane.  It can create.  It can motivate.  It can paralyze.  It can do oh so many things...but really...it has no nature...
It is as wild as all the things in nature really are.
It can also not be defined, confined, controlled, or put into action or words.  There are as many definitions of beauty, as there are people on the planet to define it.
All the things you find beautiful, I may...or may not.  I will say this though, I love that you do.
I love that you have the capacity to recognize it.
I love that you have the desire to find it.
I hope...
I truly hope...
In my hope of hopes...
that we can share it.
I'd like that.

I think it would be beautiful.