Updated: Oct 12, 2021
I saw this amazing picture recently. It was a man made out of constellations. It was on a navy blue background, with bright light-blue dots and lines forming to be beautiful constellations. And it hit me, as aesthetically pleasing as that image was, it was also such a gorgeous peak into reality.
I do this a lot. I look at mundane things and see beauty that sometimes doesn't even exist. And no, I am not blowing my own trumpet. I don't even think this is something to boast about. But I do really find beauty in the normal, in the basic, in the monotony of things. Most things I've looked at with so much love are things so abundant in nature and essence, they rarely seem like something to look so lovingly at for so long - like a tiny plant growing through concrete, or a squirrel hopping around, or that second long eye contact I have with dogs while walking on an unknown street, or the warmth of the man who owns this amazing small shop near my first college which serves the best chocolate milkshake ever; he always extends his timings when I reach late and asks me about my life and family and career.
These things; they make me very happy.
I think we are all a little like constellations - we are parts of all the lives we touch, all the thoughts we've rejected, all the people we crossed paths with. Hell, we are parts of all the people we hate too. And I can't stress enough on this or say this enough, but I think that is beautiful.
In retrospect however, I think my idea of finding beauty in everything roots from pretension, hopeless romanticizing of things, an excessive reading habit, and aesthetics. I didn't find beauty in things naturally, I did it because that seemed appropriate and apt at the moment.
Now, it's become my second nature.
It's like adopting a kid or having a bastard, only to have them feel more like your blood than anyone else. To see parts of yourself in that kid, parts that you thought only passed genetically, parts you grow to love and adore about yourself, parts you never thought could exist. Who knew, pretension could ever lead to such aesthetically dreamy realities.
And oh my God, and I say this at the cost of sounding pretentious, but I think that is beautiful.