Everything is beautiful, and nothing hurts

I take liberties with the subject heading: “Everything is beautiful, and nothing hurts.” If I’m to stay true to the original (and perform consideration citation!) I should say, “everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.”  So said Kurt Vonnegut, and by proxy the Tralfamadors as they attempt to destroy the earth in Slaughter House Five (or Children’s Crusade dependent on your title allegiance).  It may seem silly to quibble over tenses, but I’ll argue quite the opposite.  There is a quiet danger to disregarding your tenses.  There is a tension to every pull of every year.  And while I’d never advocate against reflection and nostalgia, it’s my aim to promote the possibility of the future.  That’s why I’m here.  And, essentially, that’s why I just can’t quit adventuring.

I don’t think I’ll make friends with the subject heading alone.  Some things are not beautiful.  Some things really do hurt.  It would be easier to adhere to the true quote and think of beauty in past tense.  Can I see through the piss and shit of the past and find beauty in it?  Sure, of course – it’s over and hindsight is a lovely trick of the mind.  Can I sit in the pain of the present and find the same semblance of beauty?  Now that’s a tall order.

I’m a runner.  Of roads, yes, but also of life.  Of my past and my present.  I’ve convinced myself that my future is a product of my own making and that wealth and prosperity and love will be found in it if only I impel myself to move.  There’s nothing wrong with working toward a better tomorrow, but there is something scary in not attending to your present.  Was, is, will: they are conjugations with real consequences.  For me, I need a reminder of the beauty that is around me.  I need to stand still and take in my surroundings.  Revel a little – unravel a lot.  I know that life isn’t a screen print of sunshine and roses.  But if I apply basic science I can find a reaction in every action.  I can find beauty in certain hurt.  I can give this year a light I might not have otherwise been able to see.

I hope you’ll join me.  Your adventures can be loud (see: singing in the subway; riding a roller coaster), or soft (letters to loved ones; letting something you love go).  They can be intimate or shared.  They can be in response to your past or in hope of your future.  Whatever the case, make it your case.  Do whatever you need to do to remind yourself of just how beautiful you are, and that the world, with you in it, hurts a hell of a lot less.

Thanks for joining me.  Community like this – and weekly reminders like these – really reaffirm the notion that everything is beautiful, and nothing hurts.

Go forth and adventure you crazy lot, you, and keep doing what you’re doing.  You do it so well!

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