Beauty Roots in Love

I published a poster this morning which reads “Everything that grows in Beauty, Roots in Love.” And I believe that, and I am beginning to believe the converse as well, that everything which roots in love cannot help but be beautiful. And to that, I look myself in the mirror, literally, and assess what I see. 
Backing up slightly, I will talk about a cat. When my father got Point, I admit to thinking she was rather a nothing cat. I mean, I had two purebred champion Maine Coons that I had rescued – beautiful, gentle, intelligent, well-behaved cats – and he rescues this street cat, that is a born troublemaker, always getting into everything, that has a slightly annoying voice that she uses incessantly, that nips… What exactly was appealing about this little critter? And then she curled up in my arms and purred. She flopped over on her back, full of trust, and reached up to pat my face with her paws, she followed me everywhere I went, like a fuzzy shadow, and the little mess began to be more and more beautiful in a cat-mom’s biased eyes. So much so, that when my father died, I couldn’t think of parting with her. 
But beauty SHOULD be biased. Beauty should reflect all of a person (or cat), and see through the noisy, squeaky voice to the darling little soul inside that bundle of troublemaking fur. And the same for people. It is not the face, nor the body, nor even the quirky and perhaps annoying habits. It is not the insecurities, nor the trivial little things we can find in any day that someone might do “wrong”. It is the heart, and where it plants its roots. A heart rooted in love cannot help but sprout in beauty. So, I now see that, when I look in the mirror at my own reflection. I no longer so much see the wrinkling face, covered in age marks. I no longer see the body, the opposite of ideal. But instead, I see deep into the eyes that look for only things and people to love, that want nothing more than to reflect love back. And with that, I understand – I am beautiful.


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