I believe that beauty lies everywhere

Everywhere and anywhere

It can be in the struggle

Beauty likes to snuggle

It can be in the success

The beauty in impress

Beauty can be in laughter and tears

It can be here and on the life stairs

Yes, they are different kind of beauties

But every beauty is a duty

You can't reach beauty without dreaming

It will come with tears streaming

But it's worth it

The same with faith - you can't turn it

The twists, the tears, the beauty

You just have to see

my father once

told me

function in distress

finish in style

and my bones

ached

from lifting the

present moment

into what is

broken

To me, success and struggle are inherently intertwined; in a sense, some struggles are successes; as the Scottish say, "Failing means you're playing." In other words, the fact that you're feeling the heat and sweat, whether you acheive your objective or not, means that you're in the game. The phrase itself implies that participation is its own reward; avoiding struggle by staying on the sidelines is its own loss.

One loses out on many things by trying to avoid struggle: the chance to succeed, the chance to grow and learn. So yes, struggle is a beautiful thing. Success can be beautiful too, even thrilling. Both have their merits. The key, as with anything, is to look for the balance. Life is a series of setting goals and trying to reach them. It's important to both celebrate the goals when they are reached, but also to enjoy the process; not viewing your life as endless jumping, from one milestone to the next. For one, all that jumping gets tiring (ever spend a day shooting hoops?) So if you're going to play ball, try to make the basket and try to enjoy it. The sweat is a part of the game.

#writing #struggle #success

Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder

because afterall, you’ve only seen yourself in a mirror

You don’t see yourself everytime you see a puppy,

or what you look like when you are doing the thing you are most passsionate about

and even so the beauty isn’t what’s on the outside,

it’s the beauty within that matters most

There is no beauty in all things easy,

the beauty is in the srtuggle,

or rather beauty is the struggle

because the rainbow comes after the storm not before

I’ve held it close to my skin

I’ve put it down and raised it up

I’ve been its king and slave

I’ve wasted nothing and everything for it

with no struggle and no success

It is always there, everywhere

calling, taunting, seducing,

all being around me

without ugliness, only singularity

and perfect uniqueness

like God

But sometimes I wish it wasn’t

Wanting companionship,

my soul is speckled...

unbeautifully

Beauty is a double edged sword. I grew up thinking that beauty is pain. People find beauty in horror, and drama. I see beauty most clearly in the natural world. My struggle in finding my beauty, namely through anorexia, is in itself beautiful, and horrific. I grew up in a home where thin was beautiful. My mother was a ballerina in childhood and still struggles with her eating disorder. We both need to have control over our beauty, and we find that through limiting our calorie intake to the extreme. This started when I was a young child. My mother has major depressive disorder and had every intention to cook for us, but sometimes in the summer we would go days without a meal. This made me so grateful and appreciative if the food I did get, that every meal my mother made was beautiful. The first time I heard that beauty hurts I felt it in my core. This has been my struggle.

I feel that beauty and pain are interrelated in many ways, but it was clearly layed out in childhood for me. Then there is the struggle to have beautiful skin, hair, and for men, handsome bank accounts and cars. A lot of what we seem to define as beautiful seems superficial. I am learning to find beauty in what shows up in my scope of reality and recognize it as such. The gentle wave of my red hair. The glisten of my leg hair in the sun. The snailshell I found on a walk today. The vibrant yellows of the flowers. The caring nature of my aunt. The music I play with my cousin. I even find it beautiful that my uncle cannot sit still. I am learning to find the innate beauty of each individual who is not me, my surroundings, and myself. What I am getting at, is the journey from worshipping a grotesque idea of beauty to subtly finding it in everything I see and am and do has been beautiful. The beauty is related to the struggle, but the success is seeing that beauty doesn't have to be painful or hard.

Well, my firm view is that beauty lies in the success not the struggle. While I know all the stuff about the journey being more important than the end, but - if you fail, the journey wasn’t worth it.

Plus whoever heard of struggle being interesting?! One can keep oneself motivated, in fact, it is necessary to stay motivated if we want to ever reach the goalpost, so that the journey becomes as important as the end. But whether the journey can be termed beautiful? Only if success lights the end of the tunnel. Struggle is painful, never knowing if it will all end well, the loneliness and sadness that accompany every journey.

Naah..I’d always vote for the end over the struggle – and a successful end at that.

If you look at the life and the struggles of a person like Vincent Van Gogh. His life is beautiful and quite poetic because of all of his struggles. But I think that we can all agree that not even Van Gogh wanted to be in his own shoes. Yes, he created plenty of masterpieces, but he never got to see the impact that he would go onto make.

So, if I had to choose. I would say that the struggle is where the beauty lies. Simply because plenty of beautiful things go unnoticed. While common or shallow music, poetry, or art get all the attention without any of the efforts, but rarely stands the test of time. Whereas Van Gogh wasn't popular during his life but will be remembered forever.

One of my favourite movie quotes is from "The Secret Life of Walter Mitty." When Walter and Sean are photographing a Ghost Cat. Sean says that it rarely lets itself be seen, because "Beautiful things don't ask for attention."

Beauty is subjective. I look at a child as cute little things, if had the chance I would shower the child in the park with kisses and lay my life down even if hard, boiling, magma filled volcanic rock fall on him.

There is aman on the park bench, 35 years, probably seen him once ot thrice in the same green pale bench looking around. He is looking in the direction of the child with his mom. The mom is 5'6 and good looking as the child threw her the plastic blue boomerang. She jumped and her bosoms jumped with excitement as her, the sweat on her forehead and neck suggests that she has been here a long time playing with her son. "She is beautiful" I thought and looked away thinking as her child is lucky to have her. I liked the idea of a woman taking care of her child in both the academic and physical education.

I moved my dog and took his poop with greasy plastic paper and threw it away at the garbage. The man hasn't moved still. He was looking at the woman and her child. She gave him a stern look of the type my mom used to give at the aunt who kept trying to take me alone and I understood her. I approached her slowly and asked, "Maam, Is someone bothering you?" "Nothing." quick and disengaging as she packed her picnic bag and clothes and hurried away.

I reached home and as I searched for theTV remote, I found the lady's picture and the child's in my picture frame as I am holding her in my hands with a blue interior cake. My k-9 labrador licked my tears as it fell in the ground. I didn't recognize her fear, the fear of her ex or the fear of a predator. That's the beauty of divorce.