“Life is beautiful. Not easy.”
Another blogger who liked my posts has this as their about page.
I have written to this point in the past. The beautiful things are not easy, they just look that way sometimes.
Mona Lisa, Sistine Chapel – both are beautiful and both appear to have been crafted with ease, but we all should know that’s far from the truth.
Yesterday, I biked 11 miles to school (fueled by sheer stupidity, carrying a ruck-sack of 35lbs and before a scheduled 4 mile run). In between periods of near anguish, with my fingers cramping from the cold and confused about my rather slow pace (this was before I realized how heavy my knapsack was), I looked up. Before I was nearly hit by a fucker in a Jetta (raising my left arm, means I’m going to be turning left and changing lanes shit-tard), I beared witness to the beautiful.
On my left, to the West, was the full(-ish) moon. Bright in the night sky, the beacon of salvation for the early morning rider. It is what lit my way along a dark, unelectrified street.
On my right, to the East, was the rising sun. Not quite enough to provide light, but a source of colour, a source of technicolour, of a spectrum beyond my colour-blind comprehension.
I got the sun and the moon at once. I got the yin and yang at once. I got the lines and the colour at once. I got the vivid. I got the beautiful.
Scientists could take years explaining this phenomenon, of the sun and the moon sharing the same canvas.
This phenomenon is not easy, but it is beautiful.
Life is beautiful. That’s all that matters, not how difficult it was to get there. Beauty – vivid – is worth not easy.