When I was 18 I moved to New York City, went to NYU, and lived in Greenwich Village. Coming from a sheltered (and wonderful) suburban upbringing, I craved seeing and understanding the world. I fell in love with artists and musicians from all over the planet, and one person in particular who shaped my understanding and vision of the universe.
This gifted human saw beauty in what at first seemed like the most peculiar places. The delicate piece of tissue paper (trash) on the street in the east village, the earnest voice of a singer singing from the heart, super 8 footage of anything and everything, and my own nose, a largish part of my face that I never embraced (until my friend showed me the way). By seeing the world through his eyes, I learned to see the beauty in many many things, and especially in imperfections. These idiosyncrasies, the quirks, the lines and the scars - they are a reflection of our humanity. In this race for perfect bodies and perfect homes and perfect children, it is so easy to forget to see what is real.
This makes me think of my own Nana’s face, it was covered with deep lines from years of sun, laughter and life. Her face was AMAZING. The thought of that face being without those lines in her 80’s as I remember her now makes me sad. Those lines were the map of her full life, and everyone who knew her thought she was a “stunning woman” despite them. (I’m not sure if she would feel the same way!:) )
So while this is not a plea against botox or fitness - this is an offering of light and softness, and an invitation to see the beauty in imperfection, and appreciate the grit and glory of our own true lives.