Spellbound  

  From  'Pleidean Perspectives on Human Evolution' by Amorah Quan Yin 



Beauty,

what have I known of you

in my endless struggles for

perfection?

Struggles to fit in?

To please and be pleased?

I have taken your name

in vain.

Cried for you in the darkness

of illusion,

in the illusion of my own darkness.

In my narrow minded,

new moon way

of not seeing,

I have looked past you

and thought

you were not there.

As a child,

I saw your reflection,

though briefly, at times,

in my mother's eyes.

But when I responded it turned into sadness,

and hid behind a veil

of distant longing

that seemed to say,

"Oh child, if you only knew."

I never knew what.

But I knew that when 

I caught a glimpse

of you

in my mother's eyes,

that she would hide you

quickly again

as if some shameful secret

had been revealed.

And yet I knew you lived

inside her still.

Somewhere

If only I could catch her 

off guard.


And then I learned

that when you live 

inside a flower,

or a sunset,

or a doll,

or a new dress,

that it was okay

to look at you 

directly,

and even to speak 

of you.

And no one was embarrassed,

or turned away,

or blushed

self consciously

like when I saw the inside

Beauty.


And so I learned:

to know Beauty

is to hide

behind clothes,

make up,

new hair styles,

perfect bodies.

And soon I found

I'd forgotten you

altogether:

your purity,

innocence,

naturalness,

and ease.

I began to try

and fit in.


In school 

I learned that Beauty

is exclusive,

that it is donned

by a chosen few

with perfect bodies,

perfect faces,

perfect clothes,

perfect hair.

And that the rest of us

were less valuable,

dispensable.

Our greatest service

was to provide

a contrast:

contrast that helped Beauty

to shine

brighter compared

to those less fortunate ones.

So some of us

performed more,

studied harder,

and tried to please.

Some simply gave up.


Beauty,

you became 

an ugly word

that kept company

with shame

and loneliness

in dark corners

of narrow minds.


For years I learned

to compensate,

to give more,

to work harder,

to listen and care,

to be more clever,

appreciate all 

the beautiful things - 

outside myself.

I did not expect 

to be happy - 

just to survive

was enough.

Until one day 

a strange,

provocative

powerful voice said,

"You deserve to be

the best that you can be.

Your very existence is Beauty.

You are that 

which you seek."


As if a veil were lifted,

the trees,

and hills,

and fields 

all sprang to life

as if a still-life

watercolour

became animated.

Each leaf,

and every blade

of grass

and even the tiniest

dirt particles

were living and glowing

Essences of 

wonder and awe

and Beauty.

Unashamedly

they glowed:

radiating 

light as pure,

and innocent,

and present

as that in my mother's eyes

when I 

was young.

Each was whole.

Each knowing,

each being

the Essence

of self

unveiled.


And how can we compare

a grain of sand

to a wild flower,

or a scrub brush

to an oak?

And yet I saw them all

held in the eyes

of God,

and in the heart

of the Goddess

as equals:

Beauty

             Beloved

                            Beheld

                                     of

                                                  Beauty

                                                               and 

                                                                                   Spellbound.


Tears of remembrance

washed away years

of forgetting,

as my heart embraced

All That Is

through my eyes.

Windows of my soul

cleansed in tears

of love

and grace

as I felt

and knew

that I, too

was seen and held

in the eyes 

of God,

in the heart 

of the Goddess

as equal:

Beauty

             Beloved

                          Beheld

                                 of

                                                Beauty


And after a time

another came:

a Beloved

who through years

of denying,

forgetting his own

Essential self - 

not being truly seen

by others - 

had a veil

of distant sadness

and forgotten worth

that hid

the best he could be.

And still

I saw him.

I recognized him

behind the veils.

And I knew that you,

Beauty,

were not lost.

With time we learned

that Beauty 

hidden in illusion

is not lost.

And when our eyes met

with open hearts,

willing to be seen,

the veils were lifted,

and

Beauty

            Beloved

                    Beheld

                               Beauty

                                            and was

                                                                  Spellbound


Beauty,

I have only begun

to know you

as I cease

my endless struggles

for perfection,

struggles to fit in,

to please

and be pleased,

and look into

my own eyes,

and the eyes 

of my Beloved;

and then:

Beauty

            Beloved

                          Beholds

                                      Beauty

                                                and is 

                                                                     Spellbound.