Today I Practiced Beauty

A short post today, because it's Easter and I'm tired. I'm tired because I started my day with a 7:30 church service and then drove myself a couple hours north-east to The Gentle Barn to commune with horses, cows, pigs, sheep, goats, chickens, turkeys, llamas, dogs, a donkey and a peacock. It was hot and dusty and, while sheep might look fluffy and huggable, they are scruffy and nappy and not that clean. 

And though I really wanted to rub a pig's belly and hear it grunt with satisfaction, I found that these particular pigs have wiry, bristly hair and are covered with mud and flies and really didn't think I was very special. 

There was a turkey named Clair who is far too big for her legs and feet - having been bred as a food source. She was genetically engineered to grow swiftly with a giant breast that keeps her from moving around well on her own. She'll eventually have to be pulled around in a little wagon because she can't walk on her own feet, and likely die in a year or two; her heart not able to support her great size. Her feet are grossly misshapen from having to hold her weight and she's far from comfortable trying to move around on her own, but she had a line of suitors who stood patiently waiting to cuddle with her and stroke her soft, ugly neck. She loves to be loved and loving her is very, very easy to do. 


These animals have all been rescued from horrible situations of abuse and neglect and deep fear and loss and sadness. They've been rehabilitated, body, mind and spirit by the folks at The Gentle Barn. They are awkward and scarred and not one bit pretty. But they are beautiful. It was a beautiful day. Today I practiced beauty.



The more I look for beauty, the more of it I see. Beauty really is everywhere; we can see it wherever we choose. Beauty moves me, viscerally and emotionally, and both excites and soothes my spirits. Even though there are universal standards of beauty (consider fields of flowers and the large, wideset eyes of a young child) beauty can mean different things to each person. Those things that are obviously beautiful to us speak to us immediately. Things that are less obviously beautiful can take some work to appreciate. I know this for a fact: When we love something, it becomes beautiful, no matter how plain or unsightly we once considered it. And when we associate something with harm and hate and danger, no matter how lovely we once thought it, it loses its beauty for us. 

Today I practiced beauty. I celebrated the beauty of the miraculous resurrection - a reminder that I am so well-loved and beautiful to God. I looked hard for beauty wherever I went - even marveling at the mountains while sitting in thick traffic on an Los Angeles freeway. I appreciated the beauty that was easy to spot. I allowed myself to feel beautiful, even with the sun beating me up and horse slobber on my neck. I fell in love. I fell in love with many once broken and now hopeful spirits housed inside barnyard animals who were suddenly beautiful to me. Yes, today I practiced beauty. And I plan on practicing it again tomorrow.