Beauty All Around

Life really is pretty great and gorgeous most of the time. But often you have to work to make it that way.
It would be rather easy to sit around, waiting for life to happen to you, or to win the lottery (assuming one ever purchased a ticket), or for someone to come sweep you off your feet and propose to you by singing "The Luckiest" by Ben Folds during halftime of some big sporting event, or to discover that by chance you were born with a bionic body and could live forever. Wouldn't it be great to wake up and find the Brady Bunch sent Alice to live with you and clean your house and prepare your meals, and most importantly, collect the Albertsons Grocery Stamps for you? And how nice would it be to get a call on a Monday, when you were dreading a week of work, and have it be your personal assistant Fabio checking in to tell you that he's booked your vacation to Fiji. Yes, of course you're flying first class. And because you're so high-and-mighty, they've arranged for you to stay on your own private island, where your only guest will be Matt Lauer, coming to interview you about your new best-seller for the Today Show.
With the exception of Alice (poor thing must be worn out from those ungrateful Bradys-- Marsha, Marsha, Marsha) and the lottery (because gambling destroys families), I do kind of expect the other things to happen to me sometime during my life. And some of them will just come, because I put my order in with the Universe (the book, "The Secret" told me to), but other things I don't mind working for.
For example, last night I came home from FHE jazzed that my hyacinth is not only blooming, but its fragrance is wafting through my entire house. It gave me this great sense of energy and joy, so I found myself sweeping and mopping past midnight. It wasn't a Cinderella fantasy thing, or even because the house was terribly dirty. I just wanted everything to be in line with the greatness of my little flowers in the entryway.
Likewise, the other night I went home exhausted from work, but rather than plant myself on the couch and watch hours and hours of "Arrested Development" (which I may do later this week), I pulled out some junk from my magical craft closet, and made this:
Alphonse Mucha is my all-time favorite artist, and I figured that framing some pictures from last year's calendar would bring a little oomph to my living room. Painting a dozen frames and embellishing them with metal leaf was messy, but the end result was worth it. The next evening, I put everything up, and I'm in love with the result:

I wish the picture did it justice, but there's a new coziness to that corner of my existence. Any time I've been home since, I take at least a brief moment to sit in a chair and gaze across the room at this little bit of lovely.

You have to do this. It's essential in this sometimes-nasty world. I really think it's important to find your own brand of beautiful, and bring it into your home and your work (not just the workplace either, but one's very career) and social life. Fostering beauty in its many forms helps me feel a deeper spiritual connection, and brings me peace. I think that's part of why I've become a bit of a compulsive cleaner. If something is within my sphere of influence, I want to put my hand out to lift it up and make it better.

Contrast that to what happens out in the world. This morning I rolled my garbage can out to the road, and noticed a strange car parked in front of my house. The driver opened his car door, and proceeded to vomit in the road. Bless his heart, I could tell that he was embarrassed, and he sped off before I could offer him a bottle of water or some Pepto Bismol. So now there's puke in my street, and right in front of my mailbox. But it could be worse. At least I live on a dirt road, and maybe it'll kind of get absorbed before I check my mail this afternoon. I just hope that somewhere, the little chap has someplace beautiful to go to help him forget he tossed his cookies in front of a stranger this morning. I noticed he didn't turn around to go home. If I'd just thrown up, I'd at least want to go back to my house and clean myself up-- brush my teeth! He probably just went to work, which makes me worry that no one is making life beautiful for him. I can only hope he does it, in his way, for himself. Even if that means just listening to Ben Folds on his way to work.