Beauty 101

To The Lady on the Train,

You are beautiful. You are beautiful though you do not know it in your own bones. You are beautiful but do not believe me when I tell you that you are. 

When I tell you that you are beautiful and you claim that it cannot be so because you did not know what to do with your hair, or that your makeup was not perfect, or that you were rushed in getting ready, or that your clothing was not quite what you wanted it to be – I cannot help but laugh inside. It is not in these trappings where your beauty lies. Nor is it in some impossible idea of youth of your past where your beauty lies.

So let me tell you over and over until small drops of this truth soak into your skin to find their way to your heart.

You are beautiful. You are beautiful in all of the ways that are seen when you walk into a room, when you smile, and when your gaze turns toward me. Your are beautiful in all the ways that can be heard in your voice, when you laugh, and in the way that you say my name.

 

Your beauty is not something that has gone nor can ever fall from you. It is not like trying to hold sand in your hands. It does not slip through one's fingers despite how much you try to hold on. Your beauty is not found just in the depth of your skin, in its wrinkles or lack of them.

 

‎Your beauty is found in the shapes of your eyes. It is underneath your skin and shines through in everything that you do. It is in the way light attaches to you and the way time no longer has any meaning when you are near.

You are beautiful in every way. May this simple truth find its way to you.

The Man in the Station

Summer...

To The Lady on the Train,



The tilt of the earth toward the sun favours us more each day, lengthening the hours of daylight and warming our limbs. Summer has arrived and the greening of lawns and trees and the sudden flowering of gardens are welcomed sights.
 
We look forward to iced drinks under a shade tree, sudden thunder storms rolling across the land, the sounds of birds, and the smell that only comes at dusk when the sun sets behind a hill rimmed lake. We watch our skin darken under the gaze of the sun and cool our bodies in the deep lakes that pit our northern shield rock. There is also the smell of bbqs and campfires that drifts over the pines.


And finally at the end of the day, laying on our backs on the cool earth to watch the stars appear in growing numbers. We watch for shooting stars as constellations wheel overhead. We float in water and we float through the universe.


It is only your hand in mine and the light in your eyes that keep me grounded.




The Man in the Station