Do You Know How Beautiful You Are?

Dear friends, 

A few days ago my mind was wandering as I sat in the passenger seat of my friend's car. During a lull in the conversation, an image began to form in my mind: 

A mirror with the words, "Do you know how beautiful you are?" written around it. I let my mind continue to clarify the picture and then told my friend, "I know what my Art Squared piece is going to be." 

For 11 years Louisville Visual Art has hosted a fundraiser, Art Squared, for which artists donate a square piece of particular size to be auctioned. I submitted a piece for the first time last year and am happy to do so again this year. 

After the car ride, I started working on the piece, first writing on the canvas in a spiral, "Do you know how beautiful you are?" over and over. Then I covered it with paint. I'll put a round mirror in the center and around it, I'll again spiral the words. 

As I've been creating, I've been reflecting on the question. How many of us truly see the fullness of our being, all the ways we shine brightly, the ripples of love emanating from our simple existence?  

I suspect most of us don't see our beauty clearly. I can recall times I've wished a friend or acquaintance could see their light shining in the same way I could. A few months ago a friend expressed that same wish for me. Until she said it, I hadn't even realized how much I was obscuring the radiant parts of me from myself.

I've been offering myself more grace since then, practicing care for the parts of me I judge to be less-than, practicing connection with my brightness even during circumstances that may not feel easy, bright, or beauty-filled.

When I am confident in my love-core, what I believe is the essence of each of us, I can respond from that center. When I am only aware of the gnarly parts of me, the hardened places, the parts that may seem grimy on the surface, I may respond from those shallower, less steady places. I want to respond more consistently from the center. 

Since the beginning of 2024 I've been spending a lot of time in my studio, mostly creating collages. The studio is a place where my whole being comes out. Yesterday's time there included working on the Art Squared piece focused on beauty and on a piece about rage. Externalized in this visual form, I can see all parts of me as beautiful. 

As I'm writing, I'm thinking about Howard Thurman's words: "Don't ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive and go do it. Because what the world needs is more people who have come alive." 

Isn't that when we're at our most beautiful- when we're doing what makes us come alive? 

The thought bring conflicting emotions- joy for those who can do what makes them come alive, gratitude for the ways and places I come alive, and grief for those who don't have the same access to what gives them life and amplifies their beauty. Rather than following the grief at this moment, I'm going to focus on the joy, gratitude, and aliveness. And I wonder:  

What makes you come alive?

Where and how do you see your own beauty? 

One place I connect with mine is in retreat spaces. On Sunday I'm offering this month's Savoring Time mini-retreat, with the theme of Bloom! These sweet times to slow down have been so life-giving, so beauty-filled. 
 
Saturday was going to be the start of The Artist's Way. Recognizing that my excitement to start as soon as possible was a bit hasty, I've moved the start to August 17th. If you were considering the process and summer dates didn't work, I hope you'll join us in the fall. The Artist's Way offers many, many opportunities to connect to your own beauty and the beauty around us. 
     
To learn more about upcoming offerings, visit this page. If they speak to you, I hope you'll join me.  If you know of others who'd love this work, please share with them!

With love, 
Cory

Allowing Space for Heaviness and Lightness

Even on days heavy with grief, there are reminders that there is more than grief…

Today I went walking.

Six feathers met me at different points on the path of my meandering.

One sweet, small, delicate feather floated from the sky into my hand.

Seven total.

Bright flowers presented their beauty.

Bees did what bees do, ensuring that the flowers will bloom again, that sweetness will continue to exist in our world.

Seven collected feathers felt like too many to carry away.

What if someone else needed their light reminders of divine presence? We are not alone.

What if someone else needed to remember that freedom and joy are possible? Rising in lightness is within reach, if not in this moment, in another.

I left four feathers in simple formation.

I carried three away.

I suspect that these three will pass from my hands to someone else’s when it is time.

~~~

Feeling the grief is important. Allowing ourselves support to do so- from humans, Spirit, any light-filled source- is also important.

However you are moving through this day and this day is moving through you, I hope that your needs are met in expansive and beautiful ways. I hope you feel the love that surrounds you and the love that lives within you.

Beautiful Mess

I met a new neighbor yesterday. I had met his fiancé a few days before and to both of them, I said apologetically, “I’m not so good about maintenance, sorry about my yard.”

He replied something like, “It’s fine. My mom loves your yard because there’s so much going on.” My yard is full of perennials that are thriving. It is also full of weeds that are thriving.  

My neighbor on the other side also often tells me how much she loves my yard.

A friend came over last week to help me weed and plant veggies. At one point I looked at an area dense with vegetation, none of which I planted, all of which I consider weeds, and lamented how overgrown it was. He said he’d rather see that- with all of its variety, than a yard of grass. He talked a bit about the value of diversity- how each plant…and bug…and every other creature both give and receive in ways that ultimately promote a healthier ecosystem. Looking again, I acknowledged that it was pretty. I noticed all sorts of shapes and sizes of plants and leaves, with so many nuanced hues of green.

This hasn’t stopped me from slowly but surely pulling those weeds and covering the ground with mulch, planting flowers, herbs, vegetables, because I like the tidy mulched look and the idea that by creating some order, I am contributing to the beauty in my yard.

I’ve also been creating more order in my home. This is an ongoing process that has been happening in fits and spurts over several years, as I finally get rid of papers, photos, memorabilia from grad school…college…high school…grade school. Going through those things has provided some fun walks down memory lane, and getting rid of them gives me more space, literally and figuratively, to live in the present.

I believe this process of external clearing in both house and yard is a reflection of the internal clearing happening. Slowly I’m clearing out the weeds of doubt that can clutter my mind, throwing out ideas that no longer fit me or serve the purpose they once did, making space for new ideas, new clarity, freedom.

Even as I clear and tidy up, I reflect on why having order is so important. Why am I apologizing for my beautiful messy uncontrolled yard, the one Mother Nature fills bountifully when I’m not tending it? Why do I apologize or try to hide my beautiful messy self?

More than once I’ve heard friends lament the state of their children’s rooms, saying something like, “I can’t even go in there. I have to close the door it’s so messy.”

When I hear such statements, having been one of those kids, I feel myself tense up. Depending on who has said it, I may respond, “You know, your child can be messy and still contribute in wonderful and significant ways. Being neat or messy is not an indication of your child’s worth or ability to do great things.”

At age 46, I am still in the process of accepting my beautiful messy self and remembering that my value is not contingent on the orderliness of my house, yard, or self. As with my yard, I too often see only the mess and fail to see the luscious blooms of beauty blossoming, or the seeds of truth, love, wisdom sprouting in me. I may not notice my roots anchoring me in a way that also helps others stay steady or find grounding. I may forget to fully acknowledge and celebrate the fruits of my labors, because I am too focused on the labor yet to come.

Those who know me best have seen the mess- the physical mess, the inconsistencies between values and action, the times I forget everything I teach, the times I strive to practice what I preach and still get it wrong- and still accept me and love me. Even knowing that, I try to hide those parts I consider unsightly.

And yet when I reflect on the people who are dear to me, it is the ones I’ve shared the mess with, who’ve shared theirs with me, who I feel closest to. We’ve seen each other in wholeness.

Broken wholeness.

Messy order.

Imperfect perfection.

We’ve seen the beauty in the “so much going on.”

We’ve allowed each other to see the chaotic process of transformation, sometimes chosen, sometimes imposed by circumstances over which we have no control, often a little bit of both.

I don’t disparage order. I appreciate the outcomes of clearing space and organizing in my house, my yard, myself.

I also honor and celebrate the potential and the as-it-is-now of the mess.

The beautiful mess.