Pretty, hot, beautiful, cute ... sweet, smart ... great personality ... All that and a bag of chips.
Labels ... the ones we wear, where one might shelter the psyche ( as concept of tangible self/ soul)
I have been thinking about this in a low grade yet pervasive manner for years and years ... Not just this notion of pretty vs. hot ... Well, not exactly that at all, rather ... well exactly this idea is an excellent headstart to unraveling this little tangle. We are created and we are also creating ... ourselves ... it's a sometimes messy process! Created, creating ... collaborating.
I think we are supposed to let God tell us who we are, and how we are doing at being us.
I think our role is to be as close to who we are intended to be as we possible can be.
Does that make sense? Hmmm, I'll try harder. I believe I was created and am a tiny bit of a much larger creation ... I think everything is going to be amazing cool once we get to see where we fit in the larger scheme of things, and I think each of us does "fit" specifically somewhere (um. yeah, not exactly in a place kinda more like a role). I'm thinking about ... maybe about a piece of fabric which if my eye could see it on a microscopic level would magnify to a thread and zooming in farther and farther I might see an atomic view where orbiting bits are attracted by and leap towards other bits. Look at this ... I love this ...
And now back out (with the fabric) to a quilt ... created from a diversity of scraps ... practical, beautiful ... comforting on many levels, a shelter.
I wrap myself in self concept all the while knowing that my "self" is not large enough to "see" me and much more importantly, who I am becoming. I think I must look towards God for that.
My mother is a physically beautiful woman. I have always know that. She has always said that I am not pretty ... That in fact, my brothers got all the looks in the family ... such a shame her daughter lacked this or that ... She "worked" on me ... all those growing up years she worked to recreate on me an ideal beauty with was beyond my raw material. I have been a woman who does not feel ... pretty.
I look at my mother, and I can not see her beauty. I can see it only when I look at pictures of her.
My dad was a very attractive man ... like a movie star handsome. Together they were stunning.
I asked my dad "Am I pretty?" And he told me that nobody gets to tell me who I am ... Only God knows that. I remember saying I know Daddy, but I didn't ... I didn't understand. Then he said I wouldn't stop any clocks. I didn't understand that expression either ... Still not sure what it means, but back then I thought it meant my looks wouldn't make time stand still or even hesitate for a second. Okay ... I'll google it. Sorta amazing what memories hold tight. This pre search is a bit like preparing to opening a package ... What will be found inside?
An idiom...
1927, "Editorial Comment: Thinking Statistically," Educational Research Bulletin, vol. 6, no. 7, p. 142:
We realize that all women are fair only in theory and that if we arranged them in the order of fairness we should have at one end the face that launched a thousand ships and at the other end the face that would stop a clock.
and this
1983, John Cougar Mellencamp, "Pink Houses":
Hey darlin'
I can remember when you could stop a clock.
Still unsure! Lol. It doesn't matter. I have learned that we see all kinds of different things when we look at one another. Maybe we are attracted, maybe we are repelled ... all the while busy creating our scraps of fabric.
homely enough to stop a clock
Rur. ugly. She's a sweet girl, but homely enough to stop a clock. No one asks Mary out, and no wonder. She's homely enough to stop a clock.
See also: clock, enough, stop
McGraw-Hill Dictionary of American Idioms and Phrasal Verbs. © 2002 by The McGraw-Hill Companies, Inc.
Well, there you go. "Nobody gets to tell you who you are ... only God knows that". Great answer to the question I should have been asking. That answer has served me well over the years.
We visited with my mother on the 24th ... briefly. She has taught me the value of minimizing exposure. This time was a bit different in some ways ... She stood back ... She observed. It was a little bit creepy for me. My mother is a person who enjoys the lime light ... A seeker of attention ... a person who has consistently not paid attention to anyone or anything. Well, pretty much ... She is genius at paying attention to the attention paid to her. This time as she hugged me goodbye she said, "You are absolutely beautiful."
I didn't need to hear that from her now. But, I think it's possible that she needed to say that. She has ever said anything remotely like that to me before ... and she went on to say that looks are unimportant, that good health is all that really matters. Next day ... Christmas Day ... She calls to wish us a Merry Christmas and also to tell me some far-fetched tale involving my Dad and infidelity. "Momma ... Why do you want me to hear this story?" I ask her and she has no answer. That's more like my mom. She forgets and remembers in her house of mirrors ... I see her disappearing. What will remain as she fades?
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