Grief, for example, is like mud that you have to swim through. It weighs you down and forces you to concentrate on even the simplest things. And if you think of grief this way, you know that the thing you need to do is take things slowly, to focus on breathing, to keep your strokes smooth and as steady as possible. Fear is more like an electric sander against your heart. You need to turn it off and calm frazzled nerves before you can function again.
These kinds of descriptions remind me of how, when my children were younger, I searched out ways to describe their beauty:
Eldest is like a diamond: dazzling, multifaceted, a beautiful reminder of the comfort of solid relationships.
|Source: James Allen|
Big Guy is more like a painting by Caravaggio, where the interplay of light and dark creates a fascinating beauty.
|Betrayal of Christ, National Gallery of Ireland|
Dancer is absolutely a Balanchine piece, weaving people and movement into a flurry of music and movement and smiles.
|Source: Pacific Northwest Ballet|
Snuggler is a larger than life collage, perhaps a Matisse mixed with the whimsy with Miro, full of bright and unexpected shapes and swirls.
|Matisse: Creole Dancer|
Little Guy is an excellent and humorous novel, full of word play and well-developed characters.
|Not a novel, but a very funny book (some ribald humor).|
These kinds of descriptions help me because they articulate something true about my children that mere adjectives do not. They describe beauty in a way that expands my understanding of what is good and wonderful, allowing me to notice it more easily and nourish it more readily. Try it. I'd love to hear what you come up with!