Four-feet decided to bring me flowers when she came to visit me. Beloved didn’t put her up to it. He didn’t buy flowers and put them in her mouth to carry into my room either.
This was pure four-feet in her loving way. Okay, fine, she didn’t bring me flowers as much as she was in the middle of checking them out when Beloved made her come inside. Checking them out included seeing if they were good enough to eat.
Judging by her reaction once she was on my bed, the flowers were not to her liking, so she brought them to me. Slightly chewed, very well watered, and hard to recognize. It is the thought that counts though, right?
It isn’t every day this girl gets flowers. It is even rarer that I get freshly picked ones.
I tried to pick them up and put them in a glass of water, however, they were too well sampled. They were droopy and somewhat squished. Perhaps I will press them once they dry out. They will last longer that way anyway!
As I applied the setting powder to my makeup, I checked to make sure that everything I wanted to hide, was hidden. Beloved has told me a million times if he has told me once that I don’t need to wear makeup.
Naturally, I ignore him and make sure that what I want to hide remains hidden. Usually, this turns out to be the lovely malar rash that tends to blossom across my cheeks. Sometimes I don’t hide the whole rash, instead, I just tone it down and use its glow as my natural glow.
Would my rash offend anyone else? I don’t know, although I suspect it would draw attention. The fact it bothers me is enough of a reason for me. I despise my rash, even when I tame it ever so slightly and use it to my advantage.
Beloved though, he sees neither the rash nor the ugliness of it. Instead, he only sees me as he always does. Therefore, to his way of thinking, there is no need to hide that which doesn’t need hiding.
Still, despite what he thinks, he doesn’t begrudge me the time it takes to carry out what he considers unnecessary steps. I wish I could see things how he does, so I could let go of the way I feel when my rash comes around. I guess it is a partial victory that I have found a way to find some beauty in what I see as ugly.
While I was waiting in line, I overheard a little girl explain to a woman how it was important to be beautiful. If the girl was five or six, that was it. And she was already talking about the importance of appearance.
The woman smiled at her and said that it was important to look your best, be as beautiful as you can be and not let the uglies out.
Friends, a part of me wanted to tell this little girl that beauty was in the eye of the beholder. But I said nothing. I didn’t know if it was my place. But I wonder what she will grow up to think.
If she were my child, I would tell her she is beautiful. Beauty isn’t an external thing as much as a state of being. I would tell her that appearance is important. It is important to show up, be there, and do the work to be the best you can be in work, school, and life.
If she were my child, I would tell her that there is place for ugly moods. It is okay to have ugly or bad moods. And holding them in is not healthy.
I didn’t say any of that. She wasn’t my child. I wasn’t sure it was my place to say it. (Sure call me chicken.) But I also held my tongue because I didn’t know what the girl or the woman meant by their comments and I didn’t want to take it on my assumptions. But if I she were my child, if I felt it was my place, I would have said all that.
Someone told me that if I broke a mirror, I would have 7 years of bad luck. Not that I was interested in testing this theory out, but over the years I have broken some mirrors. And while I didn’t keep track of the bad luck to year ratio, I’m confident that it wouldn’t amount to seven years.
So go ahead, break a mirror if you need to. I know I’ve needed to break one because it was the only way to really see myself.
The problem with the mirror is that it doesn’t show the whole, truth of who we are. As a matter of fact it only reflects an image that we then interpret. And if you are at all like me, you tend to hear other people’s helpful advice on how to interpret things. Such as your nose is too big, your eyes are dull. Maybe you lack cheekbones. Perhaps your dimples make you look childish. Whatever it is, whatever we’ve heard and seen, that is what we use when we peer at that image reflected back at us. And it’s a lie.
You see friends, the mirror can never show who you are. It will never show your creative whims. It cannot capture your generous heart, courageous spirit or thoughtful approach. It will never show how amazing you are as a friend or how you can be a calming and peaceful influence. These are far more important than the lines that show our journeys. Heck our journeys help us to grow as people.
So break a mirror, or two, it’s okay. In some ways it’s liberating and therapeutic. And in case you are wondering, you look wonderful!
The storms rolled in during the wee hours of the morning. The time when most people are peacefully resting. Or, the time that the four-footed one likes to get up and get her day started. She is a firm believer in the early bird theory. Although I freely admit I am glad that she is not into worms!
So we were awake when the storm decided to build to an amazing crescendo. We weren’t fussed by it either, we were drying off from the intense rain which had saturated us for the few minutes we were out. Hence the need to dry off. Not that the four-footed one was complaining. For her that means being wrapped up in a towel, rubbed and snuggled. All things she likes to have done after she has been soaked.
She wasn’t fussed by the flashing of the lightening either. She was content. Until a startled Beloved joined us. You see the crescendo woke him up. He had been sleeping on the side of the bed when it jolted him. The fall onto the floor ensured he was wide awake and not interested in worms of any sort.
He was, however, in need of a bit of a cuddle with the four-footed one while I made him tea. Yes friends, it was that bad. He let me make his tea for him. Almost unheard of unless he is very ill or very exhausted. He claimed, later, that it was shock that allowed him to let me make his tea.
So the three of us sat there watching and marveling at the raw beauty and power of the storm that lasted for hours. We didn’t worry about losing electricity or anything. We just watched it in awe and wonder. And decided that the rest of the day would be a do whatever we wanted type of day. Which frankly can be the best types of days. Especially when the storm decided to hang around the rest of the day in a weakened state.
Soemtimes,Es things that are beautiful on the outside are anything but beautiful on the inside. For example, seeing a talented ballerina dance on pointe is a thing of pure beauty. However if you were to look inside those shoes, you’d see feet that a lot of people would call anything other than beautiful. This feet shoe the toll of dancing on pointe, of the stress and hard effort. You may even see signs of the pain that comes with this.
I know bcause I used to dance. Before lupus, not just before the diagnosis, but before the sky,proms of the disease were active. And I worked hard to dance, to earn my pointe shoes. And the hard work showed in ruined toenails, red toes, bruises and such. From a distance I looked happy and beautiful and as if I was enjoying myself. And I did. But it came at a pice. And that price was my less than beautiful feet.
I recall getting my feet massaged once, while I was dancing, and it was incredible and my feet felt so different. But it was a very rare thing to do. Because I did not have pretty feet.
These days I don’t dance. I’m not able to dance and I’m okay with that. But I’ve never lost that idea that things that ar pretty on the outside ar not always the same. And in some ways, I may look passable on the outside, or even pretty. However on the inside I feel anything but that. I feel up pretty and ugly. Full of ruined joints and damaged organs and pain. And with lupus, no amount of massage will make that part of me feel amazing the way that foot massage once felt to my dancer’s feet.
And it’s easy to relate to this even if you don’t have lupus, because life and people can make you feel I pretty. Even though that’s not true. So if no one has said this to you recently, allow me to tell you that you are pretty.
Two Dragons were fighting in the cool morning air. As they rush to and fro the four-footed one watched them with mild interest. Perhaps she was waiting until the fight was done and then she’d sort out which one she would chase. I watched with more interest, it was almost beautiful the way their wings glittered in the sunlight as they dashed towards and away from one another.
I had never seen dragonflies fight before. Mor had I ever seen dragonflies as large as these two were. From head to tail, the were each bigger than one of my hands. You could hear their wings as they flew around. When they smacked into the side of the house, it was rather audible. As if armour was hitting into the hard surface of the house.
I’m sure they had to sustain injuries with how hard they were hitting. I just couldn’t see if there was any harm inflicted. And I wasn’t sure if the winner would consume the loser or if the four-footed one had intentions of consuming these two dragons. Well I couldn’t control what the two dragons would do, or how nature worked, I could prevent the four-footed one from consuming the Warriors or one of the Warriors. So I brought her in and we watched from the window until she got bored and I needed to return to my marking.
I’m not sure what happened with the dragons. For all I know they may be battling elsewhere, or perhaps the battle is long over. Either way, today I say dragons.