All the Pretty People
All day today, Jane Dark's description of me was echoing like music through my mind: "Stunningly beautiful . . . very pre-Rafaelite, but in silvery colors."
It was a bit humbling, but it also really made my day. Even though I don't think it's quite accurate. :)
I've never thought myself particularly pretty, perhaps partially because (and I'm not kidding here) I always look like an unfamiliar stranger to myself in the mirror or in photographs.
But, realistically, I have quite an ordinary face. Even my husband, who loves me dearly and thinks I am pretty, would never use a phrase like "stunningly beautiful" to describe me. I'm just not.
I expect that Jane Dark saw something in my expression or my eyes that she connected with, and that's what gave her that impression.
I used to feel slightly guilty because all the people I'm close to are beautiful.
"What does it say about me," I wondered, "that I only like beautiful people? I must be very shallow to have only pretty people as friends."
Then I realized it's not that I like only pretty people. It's that, to me, the people I like are beautiful.
#################
When I think of it that way, I see the scene at the end of Mr. Holland's Opus, where Mr. Holland sings, "Beautiful, beautiful boy" to his son. That's how I feel about the people I love.
Maybe it's partly because of my face blindness, but the things I notice and like about people aren't things like regularity of features or classical beauty. They're things like their expression, the light in their eyes, the way they move, or the character that shows in their face.
I couldn't describe anyone's features to you accurately, but I could tell you what I love about them and the way it shows in the way they look or talk or carry themselves.
With my husband, for example, I especially love his eyes. They're so open and transparent; so deep and full of thought; so much a window into his soul. In his eyes I can see both his strength and his great tenderness; his gentleness and his intensity. I love his mouth, too, and the way it mirrors his feelings. His whole face is expressive, and that's one of the things I find most attractive about him. To me, he is very handsome. His features are beautiful to me, but it's really his depth and quality that makes him the most handsome man in the world.
In thinking about it, I think that transparency is probably one of the things I find most attractive about people. I don't tend to feel deeply connected to people I feel are putting on a front or wearing a mask. I like people whose personalities shine through in their face and eyes.
That doesn't mean everything about them is sunshine and roses, or even that they're always happy. I like people who are real, even when it means I can see a hint of sadness or loneliness in their eyes. I like people who aren't afraid to let that show. But I also like people that I can see are kind, gentle, caring, have a special inner strength, or value the things that are truly important.
I like people who are real, and have beautiful souls.
Most of my friends and family probably aren't exceptionally beautiful in the eyes of society. But to me they are.
All the people in my world are pretty people.
(Eleventy-One Things About Me, #39: The people I like are beautiful to me.)
It was a bit humbling, but it also really made my day. Even though I don't think it's quite accurate. :)
I've never thought myself particularly pretty, perhaps partially because (and I'm not kidding here) I always look like an unfamiliar stranger to myself in the mirror or in photographs.
But, realistically, I have quite an ordinary face. Even my husband, who loves me dearly and thinks I am pretty, would never use a phrase like "stunningly beautiful" to describe me. I'm just not.
I expect that Jane Dark saw something in my expression or my eyes that she connected with, and that's what gave her that impression.
I used to feel slightly guilty because all the people I'm close to are beautiful.
"What does it say about me," I wondered, "that I only like beautiful people? I must be very shallow to have only pretty people as friends."
Then I realized it's not that I like only pretty people. It's that, to me, the people I like are beautiful.
#################
When I think of it that way, I see the scene at the end of Mr. Holland's Opus, where Mr. Holland sings, "Beautiful, beautiful boy" to his son. That's how I feel about the people I love.
Maybe it's partly because of my face blindness, but the things I notice and like about people aren't things like regularity of features or classical beauty. They're things like their expression, the light in their eyes, the way they move, or the character that shows in their face.
I couldn't describe anyone's features to you accurately, but I could tell you what I love about them and the way it shows in the way they look or talk or carry themselves.
With my husband, for example, I especially love his eyes. They're so open and transparent; so deep and full of thought; so much a window into his soul. In his eyes I can see both his strength and his great tenderness; his gentleness and his intensity. I love his mouth, too, and the way it mirrors his feelings. His whole face is expressive, and that's one of the things I find most attractive about him. To me, he is very handsome. His features are beautiful to me, but it's really his depth and quality that makes him the most handsome man in the world.
In thinking about it, I think that transparency is probably one of the things I find most attractive about people. I don't tend to feel deeply connected to people I feel are putting on a front or wearing a mask. I like people whose personalities shine through in their face and eyes.
That doesn't mean everything about them is sunshine and roses, or even that they're always happy. I like people who are real, even when it means I can see a hint of sadness or loneliness in their eyes. I like people who aren't afraid to let that show. But I also like people that I can see are kind, gentle, caring, have a special inner strength, or value the things that are truly important.
I like people who are real, and have beautiful souls.
Most of my friends and family probably aren't exceptionally beautiful in the eyes of society. But to me they are.
All the people in my world are pretty people.
who knows if the moon's
a balloon,coming out of a keen city
in the sky--filled with pretty people?
(and if you and i should
get into it,if they
should take me and take you into their balloon,
why then
we'd go up higher with all the pretty people
than houses and steeples and clouds:
go sailing
away and away sailing into a keen
city which nobody's ever visited,where
always
it's
Spring)and everyone's
in love and flowers pick themselves
e.e. cummings
(Eleventy-One Things About Me, #39: The people I like are beautiful to me.)
Copyright 2009. All rights reserved.
Posted by purple_kangaroo at 10:04 PM[Permanent link]
9 Comments:
What a beautiful post.
PK - this is an awesome post - not only for the ideals presented, but for the glimpse into yourself and how you "see" others.
FWIW - I'm the same way - which probably explains why I like to read your perspectives on things ;-)
Simply, stunningly beautiful post. Just like you.
Sublime post. I too look foreign to myself in pictures; somehow out of place amongst those I love.
"Jane Dark" is a cool nick. Sadly, I can't read her blog. But I do agree with what little you excerpt. I am, however, going to have to study up on the term "pre-Rafaelite" and spend some time thinking about reading British literature.
My memory fades and perhaps idealizes, but I think the pictures you post attest to your family of beautiful people. Your girls are undeniably the concentrated form of cuteness and beauty. Mark is such a pretty boy (you know it's true, Mark). I think I even recall mentioning your beauty and emotion in reference to a profile pic you once had on xanga.
Of course, I also agree with you that people become beautiful as we associate their qualities with how they look. As if everyone who is kind-hearted and loving should have physical similarities. It's just how our mind works, I guess. It's curious how the internet discombobulates this function.
The moon's a balloon? Ok. Coming out of a city of pretty people? Makes sense. It's always Spring? It could happen. Everyone's in love? Absolutely. But I draw the line at flowers picking themselves. That's just nonsense. :)
Kevin
Kevin - re: the flowers picking themselves....I think you may be thinking too literally here - 'tis poetry after all, where deeper meaning abounds. How about the flowers pick themselves = they recognize their own unique beauty?
I was just goofin' a bit, mommyham, but I really like your interpretation.
My first thought was of the fleeting nature of pick'd flowers, and the narcissistic flower that might pick itself for its beauty, even to its own destruction. It made me a bit sad to reflect this back upon the poem, with the city that nobody's ever visited.
Your perspective, on the other hand, makes me happy. Thanks! :)
Kevin
What a nice post. I'm just catching up on your blog and wanted to send my encouragment and sympathies for dealing with the no good awful horrible terrible gastroenterologist and I'm glad that you are having a nice holiday- I know it is well deserved!
Thanks, Phantom Scribbler, Mommyham, Liz and Bridget.
Kevin, e.e. cummings' poetry is always somewhat whimsical and nonsensical--one of the reasons I enjoy it and DH doesn't. :)
I liked the ideas both Kevin and Mommyham had for interpretation. I guess I thought of it in an even slightly different light. I imagine a fantasy world inhabited by beautiful people, where things are so lovely and simple that when you want to pick a flower it seems to will itself right into your hands.
What I really love is that it sparked discussion here in the comments.
PK, I'm swamped for time today, but I will simply say that like you, the people who I like are beautiful. It's funny how we forget that, and think that we only like pretty people, isn't it?
That said, I still think you're gorgeous.
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