We talk about beauty out of ashes, but sometimes at the expense of the beauty in the ashes. How stunning ashes are, themselves. I don’t mean this simply in a bleak sort of minimalistic sense; that the white/gray/black stuff is starkly attractive like a white-washed room in a photo from an abandoned house on a Norwegian fjord. I mean the nature of destruction and reduction of an object by fire into almost-nothing. That’s beautiful.
Now, before you think that this is a psychopathic ramble about just wanting to watch the world burn, hear me out.I know two things:
1) We can only live in the present as it drifts into the future, and
2) Some things have to burn for others to be built.
You may find yourself in the midst of ashes, perhaps the ashes of things you believed to be true, a relationship, or a job… existential ashes. Don’t just move on. There’s beauty in them, just as beauty may come from them. Dig through the ashes, then rise.