Do you see the lights inside her eyes?
The way the light dances in them when she laughs; the way she throws her head back in reckless abandonment, her smile splitting her face in two, as she trips over the pavement. But she doesn’t care because she’s running to grab his hand and pull him along with her. Because she’s got a secret to happiness that no one else knows and he’s curious enough to figure out just what that is.
Do you see the way she hides her face?
You peer down from your perch in this bustling city and spot a girl sitting on a ledge, covering her face with her hands as she tries to mask the pain. Another face in the crowd; another face shedding unwanted tears. Another pair of shoulders in the street; just another pair of shoulders shaking in fear. And now your heart breaks for her as she deals with her pain, all alone, and you wonder what tragedy could have caused such a beautiful soul to fall so far.
Do you see the way he loves her?
His face beams down at her as she tugs at his hand and tells him something of absolute brilliance, you can tell, because she seems smart and funny and full of wonder (like all children are.) And he looks at her with such wonderment as if he’s contemplating how God could give him a gift like her when he deserves nothing beautiful in this world or the next. He grasps her by the waist and lifts her high, high into the air until her fingertips can almost trace the clouds (and oh, how she wish she could.) But as he gazes upon her, her blonde hair and contagious laughter dancing in the wind, he realizes that all his wishes have already come true.
Do you see the way he dreams?
The way he dreams with his sparkling eyes and firecracker fingers as they light up the canvas with his passion for capturing natural beauties such as the sight before him. The varying shades of red, orange, and purple pouring out from his soul and the streaks of gold jumping out from behind his eyelids as he grasps the colors of the sky. The bridge, the lights, the streets were no longer simply everyday scenes; they were woven into the page, connecting with the sky and the earth and any breathing being (because you cannot have one without the other.) But the most important part of the story was yet to be told; yes, because the dreamer did not see people as simply ordinary, just a passerby. Oh no, for people were very complex just as colors are very complex. Each color intermingling with one another in order to tell a story or captivate a heart with its endless beauty. And this is how people are, he mused. They are colors being splashed across the canvas of life, never knowing where they might end up, but being beautiful all the same. Some may not fit quite right or the paint might run off the edges a little bit, but none of the pictures are perfect to the dreamer. Every painting is unique and complex in its own way, just the way people are. Sometimes they stumble off the edge of the canvas or they don’t’ quite mix with the rest of the colors, but the dreamer always knows what he is doing whether or not others can see it. Sometimes you just have to study the painting a little closer (search a little deeper) to see the story behind it all.
Do you really look at people?
We often miss it the first time. The hurt, the joy, the love. Take a second glance. You might be missing something beautiful.
(This little blog post was inspired by my time in London. These are actual scenes I encountered while I was visiting there, and let me tell you, it is a wonderful place to do some people watching. Well, that’s if you’re into that sort of thing. The “dreamer” was based off this lovely painter I met there and in this interpretation of him [now that I read it more closely] he is a symbol of God. God created us all uniquely, and none of us are perfect, but we are all complex and beautiful in many ways. I think that’s what I was trying to get at. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it.)