The perfect and the ugly

The make-up of things have started to unnerve me. It started to annoy me.

If you look at an Iphone, it’s sleek and beautiful. If you open it up, it’s messy chaos.

A gleaming sportscar. Under the hood it’s all grime.

The human body, even a female breast consists of fat slime and blood.

A thin superficial venier drapes everything, and makes it appealing. The outer surface is makeup. Is makeup a lie? Is it lying to put on makeup?

One day I was walking the streets and I thought to myself: Maybe it all makes sense after all. Maybe the distasteful and the attractive form a whole, that together can serve a bigger purpose.

What about life and death?

We all went in helpless, lacking even basic bladder control, and that’s also how we end up. Maybe the point of it all is to finish, how we still started out: Loved.

I’ve seen too much death in the hospital already. When they called me, asking me if I wanted to see my father as he had passed away, I declined. It’s not how I want to remember him. I also did not want see yet another dead body in the hospital with these doctor’s eyes, knowing it would be my dad. I would have wanted to make sure he had no signs of life, if I was there. It would be work again – but at the same time not.

I’ll trust the doctors under whose care he passed away. I didn’t want to see him.

Such a flawed thing, trust.

But I do start to feel like it all forms a whole, like ying and yang. It’s not so much the details of the individual parts. It’s what those parts can achieve together. The result. Maybe that’s where the beauty is. If something is achieved – something greater than the sum of it’s parts, maybe that’s beauty in of itself. And being aware that some of those parts on their own are disagreeable, might indeed make even a greater wonder.

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