Crumpled Beauty

I took the subway today because I have drinking plans after work. Something about the anonymity of that human herring-packed metal tube always gets me thinking. It's crazy that one can be surrounded by so many humans, yet you can't help but feel if you just burst out in tears no one would notice. Sure, a few may momentarily glance over the tops of their Metro tabloid news round-up, but you'd still be crying alone. And once you got off at the next stop, they'd forget you, like that crumpled up tabloid left on a seat for someone else to pick up, peruse and dispose of, once again.

People do this to people. I have come to realize that. Even the most trusted, intimate people in your life crumple you up and leave you on a subway seat. But you know what, there is beauty in it. It's a natural occurrence, like a force of nature: A devastating flood or an earthquake. Everything dies and is reborn, as do friendships and loveships. But there is beauty, always, even if it sometimes is hidden under ash and silt. Even ash and silt can be beautiful- depends on your depth of perspective.

What I have learned -- no, what I am learning, is that the only way to ameliorate your own suffering is to lessen the suffering you cause others. Although I believe suffering is an inescapable part of being human, causing others to suffer is a choice -- an act of will.

I am now searching for beauty even though many of us tend to "give bad names to beautiful things". I am searching for beauty in love; beauty in pain; beauty in nature; beauty in thought and perception; and beauty in expression. And from now on, I will try to choose subway cars filled by other beauty-seekers, so they, too, can see the value of my tabloidy crumpledness.