I have a tattoo on my right forefinger: LBF.
No, it’s not my initials . . . I don’t need to remind myself who I am.
Or maybe I do . . . it stands for the things I want to remember. It’s a sign-post.
B stands for beauty ~ to define as I wish.
Which is nearly (and dearly) everything.
If you’ve read my Open Letter to Writers, you know that I believe writers are beauty-bringers.
As artists and story-weavers, one of their roles is to embody the most fundamental and (aside from love) most valuable human expression – creativity. I believe that this expression dissolves apathy and spreads medicine in a toxic culture.
Some symptoms of toxicity are the general devaluation of artists; the hatred and subsequent twisting of sexuality; pleasure, and play; and a compulsive drive to shame anything that feels good as indulgent and selfish.
I don’t need the Dalai Lama to tell me that my self-love and pleasure are the first steps to compassion. But I liked it when I found out he agreed with me. He calls this “wise-selfish.” I call this “bringing the beauty.”
Beauty-bringers have sacred roles – and come in many forms. Which is why we must never judge anything we find beautiful, joyful, or pleasurable. We must never use beauty to make each other wrong.
Beauty – however we find it – is always intrinsically right.
