ARTICLES: fertile ground
Articles by Penelope Brackett
A Beautiful Life
November 1998When I wrote this title, I immediately flashed on a similar title, It's a Wonderful Life. Originally I had only thought of the obvious similarity in words. I was quite shocked at the revelations that came out of the story parallels. In the film, George/Jimmy Stewart stands on a bridge, contemplating suicide. With the help of a Guardian Angel, he is able to review, even experience parts of his life, as well as imagine a world where he never existed. Ultimately, he realizes the profound effect his life has had on others. He embraces the wonder and fullness of his life, again. A happy ending.
I am part of a story without a happy ending. Recently, a friend took her life. The Calvary, angel or otherwise, did not arrive, and all the love of her friends and family could not bring the wonder and fullness back into her life. I was moved to call this article, A Beautiful Life because my friend was beautiful. She was physically lovely in a way that always sur-prised me, but beyond that there was this light that radiated from her soul. When I passed the restaurant where I last saw her, I thought of a character from A Hundred Years of Solitude or A Thousand Years of Solitude, or whatever the title is, ...A Lot of years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez…she left a wake of yellow butterflies wherever she went. I felt if I walked in the door there would be butterflies in the chair where she sat.
A rush of images come to me when I think of her: star sapphires, yellow butterflies, black lace and golden light. I am sorry she did not know herself the way I knew her. She could not have extinguished someone so beautiful.
I think now, she did know her beauty once, but she forgot. I know how that happens, one moment at a time. We do not like the way we look. We do not like the way we act. We do not like the way we feel. Our life has not measured up to our expectations. We have not measured up. A criticism, real or perceived, is nurtured. Eleanor Roosevelt said, "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent." I think of all the ways I discredit my beauty…all the times I have consented. How does the power of negative criticism, our own or others, sur-pass our appreciation? Moments upon moments of injury to our spirit. Moments upon moments of opportunities to bless ourselves, all of ourselves, to know the beauty of our soul, to know the constantly growing, developing self. It is a challenge to love even what we may perceive as ugly, but in that love is the grace to grow. In that love is the swan.
"Attention must be paid", is said of Willy Loeman in Death of a Salesman by Arthur Miller. Beauty must be nurtured and cherished. Do not consent. With every breath cherish yourself and others. Find ways to celebrate the beauty of your soul. Anoint yourself. Worship the divine within. Nourish your body, mind and soul. Pay homage. Recognize each moment as a new opportunity. Writing this article is one of my ways of honoring my beauty, allowing my soul to speak. It's painful and scary to speak, but beauty shrivels without her voice. Meditation honors my beauty. A delicious book, music, a bath honors my beauty.
Contribution is an honor, knowing and acting on my ability to be of a service to others. There is a challenge inherent in giving to others. We can give of ourselves before we are fully cared for. I suggest we fill our cup, so that it runneth over with love for others. Don't drain the cup so you get only the dregs. Eventually there will be nothing for you or your world. Each day, we have the opportunity to honor our own beauty and to model that in the world. In Nelson Mandela's 1994 Inaugural Address, he said, "We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not in some of us, it is in everyone."
I cannot pull my friend back from the bridge. Her sapphire eyes turn away, the light disappears in dark waters, the butterflies race to follow her. I carry her beauty in my heart always. I carry the sorrow for her pain and her death because of that pain. I carry the sadness of a beauty lost to me, to the world. I carry her story with me always. It reminds me of the importance of honoring beauty, the intrinsic beauty in each of us. She has reminded me not to let the moments slip by. Delight in those you love. Share that delight with them. Call out to the guardian angel within. Review your life with love, with an eye to your effect on others. I celebrate her beauty by cherishing my own and the world around me. Celebrate your beautiful life. Bless you, my friend. Bless all of you.
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