The Day That Beauty Hid

I wonder when will be the time we could fully live in beauty. And I don't mean photographs. Or movies. Theatres. Or museums where we pay splashes of color on a frame and claim it like a trophy. Same concept on dolling up models with sparkles and laces walking through runways or in other forms like actors and actresses plastered on billboards and magazines, which we also pay for, but made cheaper for the common folk.

I am so mad that our greatest achievements as humans when it comes to pursuing beauty are our failed attempts on capturing it. Or rather, owning it. Then we pride on the new definition we "gave" on beauty which is a big masterpiece of mockery and our lack of true artistic eye, which is strangely synonymous to what we call "art". It's sad that we forget that art is only supposed to be a medium for beauty.

As what the old saying says, or what your mother says when you're feeling unloved, "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder". Which is something I completely agree but also believe it's lack thereof because if we've been hearing those words for decades, why do we still believe that beauty wanted to be held?

Beauty is meant to be free. It's purpose is to be interpreted as ones own but shouldn't be defined into a single entity. And us humans strangled it by shoving one's interpretation into a newsfeed, a cosmetic, a song, or a ten second advertisement. We limited beauty depending on the capacity of our pockets and hierarchy.

We categorized the parts of beauty and branded it into a status quo or a manual when its true power ranges from flower petals to the roughest bark of a tree. So is a light skin to a stretchmark. So are freckles to a post-war scar. So is a high note to a hum. So is the sweetness of chocolate to the bitterness of coffee. So is a confession of truth and a betrayal.

Ever wondered how no matter what camera exposure you set, or high-tech recorder you have, or painting skills you learned, you cannot capture the full moon? The redness of a person's cheeks after gulping few beers? The sound of an "I love you"? The mountain's breath? The heat of lips touching your skin? The wetness of the eye after crying? The cold touch of water on parched lips? The steam of a hot soup on a winter night? The sound of crackling of bones as a ballerina bends? An embrace after a long day?

We are in a society in which we indulge ourselves with a tiny portion we steal from the abundance of beauty. For beauty happens when we engage all our senses, yet what we do is we shut off one, three, of our senses in turn for convenience, including our sense which responds to its calling--our feelings.

Yes, we pay artists for their interpretation and talent. And I most definitely do not promote copyright infringement or free art.

But my point is, we don't have to be artists to appreciate beauty.

The Creator made beautiful things without exchange. We didn't pay for the stars up above the night sky while the nightingales sing at night. We didn't pay for the sun as it sends its rays through our window curtains every morning. We didn't pay for love when it found us.

Beauty strives to be felt and remembered. It is the universe's form of kissing humanity like the first time over and over again. Maybe we humans have gone numb and cold by its blessing that we choose to find the new in it when it's supposed to be simple and natural and consistent. We slowly destroy it in hopes of finding and getting more.

We've forgotten how to open our eyes every day and refuse to receive its free gift.