Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I didn’t see the beauty in Chewy or The Elvises, but I thought it would be funny and memorable to take pictures with these street characters. I refrained from taking a picture with the American Speedo Cowboy, aka Eye Candy. (Mostly because, I just didn’t want to remember that. Where in the world were you, Joy?—You guessed it, not Venice, Vegas.) The beauty was in my expressions in these pictures. Pure Joy.
It’s easy for this introvert to get overwhelmed in Vegas. The senses are constantly bombarded every second you are awake and moving. Visual and auditory assaults come from every angle. How do you find the beauty in the Sin City? There is more than meets the eye.
If you can only see God when you look up, then faith will never meet you in your daily life. You can’t walk around looking up all the time. …This is where real faith begins: seeing God down…around…in…out…through…beyond…before…after…between…and in the middle of …everything (16). -From Finding God by John Fischer
Flaws, what our eyes see can captivate us or disgust us. You’ve seen those mirrors that magnify your pores 5-20x the size, right? I hate those mirrors. Who the hell is going to be looking at my pores like that, but me? It’s not reality. Why do I need to torture myself in that way. You’ve also seen your skin under blacklight rays, right? Oh my, I look totally polka dotted and freakish-alien-like-creature, from all the sun-damaging freckles and moles. Again, this isn’t reality. This isn’t how we see each other normally. (Thank God.) We’re all guilty of not looking at each other when we talk, and we’re certainly not x-ray visioning the pores on our friends’ faces and walking around with black lights. Are we? (If you are, shame on you.)
But, we do this to ourselves all the time. We give ourselves the Evil Eye. It’s easy to zoom in on our physical and emotional flaws. We know our flaws intimately: our stretch marks, cellulite, gapped tooth (I’ll speak for myself), dry and freckled wrinkly skin, awkward social interactions, fears, personal failures, unmet expectations and dreams. (About giving yourself Stink Eye. Stop it, friends. If you wouldn’t do this to your loved ones, don’t do it to yourself.)
On our drive back to the hotel, without blinking an eye, The Brooklyn Cabbie, who was once on David Letterman, started in on the peanut jokes. He spoke quietly as to grab our attention. Perfect punchlines. (I can belly laugh with the best of them, but remembering jokes is a disability for me. I just can’t do it. Anyone else struggle with this?) He made us laugh. That was beauty. (Side note: I love roaring laughter, the kind where you snort and happy tears fall and you start squawking like a chicken—Oh, everyone doesn’t do this? It’s just my mom, sisters and me? Not kidding about the squawking like a chicken. It can’t be fabricated, but when it happens, I can’t stop and I love it at the same time.) Brooklyn Cabbie wanted us to hurry and look up a video of the time he’d been on Letterman. (From the video and his current hair color it looked like it had been 20 years earlier.) Here he is, the 2nd cabbie in the video.
The eyes are the pathway to the soul. -Herman Melville.
The eyes are the window to your soul. -William Shakespeare
Here’s a link to an article about how your eyes really are the window to your soul. Fascinating. If there’s one thing I’ve always loved about myself, it’s my eyes. Smiling green Irish eyes. (I’m working on complimenting myself. It’s hard and takes practice.)
Many of the people’s eyes in Vegas seem to say, “I’m fragile, don’t break me.” I choose to see beauty in the brokenness, otherwise I won’t see it. There’s brokenness everywhere. Look out of the corner of your eyes. Be all eyes. Live with your eyes wide open.
What the eye doesn’t see, the heart doesn’t grieve over. As we know, there’s certainly a lot to grieve over in the world of late.
An oldie, but goodie that reminds me of summer:
Until next Friday…Love you loves.
Gastric Bypass Update:
School’s out. I’m down another couple pounds, 57 total. Weight loss has slowed. Surgery was March 23, so I’m just about 3 months post surgery. It seems like longer. A lot has happened in 3 months. 57 pounds ain’t so bad, eh?
I’m able to eat normally for the most part. I can eat just about anything. I’ve even had nuts and popcorn. My portions have to be very small, just a few ounces, which is still satisfying. I had my first open-faced sandwich on gluten free bread this week. Yum.
I need to hop on that exercise wagon now that I have a bit more time. I hope I can make it a habit. Old habits die hard. Consistency is my biggest hurdle.