“Beauty may draw us in,
but substance decides if we stay.”
This is a lesson from a lived experience, not a universal prescription.
When beauty was the focus.
I remember how tuned in I was. How amped up I felt. Like a predator that had just spotted its prey. Locked in. Ready to strike.
With sleeves rolled up, a dark roast coffee by my side, and a chair that already knew the shape and curvature of me, I was ready.
From dawn till dusk, I clicked and tapped away with fingers that barely left the mouse and keys. Not a breath or blink to spare.
I policed the symmetry and balance.
I measured the spacing.
I curated the details.
I attacked with meticulous precision.
The mission was perfection.
After the sun bid its farewell, I finally stepped away from my desk with all the exhaustion of a battle-worn warrior and looked back at the spoils of my labor.
It was beautiful.
It breathed where it needed.
Its typeface boasted personality.
Its imagery sang with emotion.
Simply beautiful for a homepage.
And in that moment, it finally hit me.
The exhaustion deepened until my heart came to a full stop.
What is a beautiful homepage if it has nowhere else to go?
I had built a door with no handle.
Forgotten the reason for its very existence.
After switching off the light at the doorway, I turned to the lit monitor that had yet to go dark.
I made a promise to both of us.
Starting at the next dawn,
priorities would change,
with beauty becoming the reveal.
Not the focus.
And somewhere in me, I already knew what had always been needed.
I just couldn’t help but reverse it.
What beauty needed most.
If we were to trace perfectionism back to its author, I wonder if it would arrive with a thanks or a court order.
There was a time when we wore it like a badge of honor,
something we tacked onto job applications,
expressed in our work,
carried in our appearance,
revealed in our demeanour,
or volunteered in conversations for momentary praise.
In the beginning, it can be intoxicating.
When we first meet a version of ourselves we never thought was possible. A vastness of capacity and potential we never fathomed could live within.
But over time, if we choose to partner with it long enough, the honeymoon period eventually fades.
And if we neglect to find the balance,
self-criticism and fear of failure
can take their place,
with burnout and anxiety
becoming the costly consequence.
Perfectionism at its height can be draining.
It can slow down the process and delay execution.
It asks that we spend more time on the surface and less time underneath, where beauty may draw us in but offers no sustenance to keep us there.
Beauty can reveal itself
in what we bring to existence,
in the texture and sway of our bodies,
and in the nature that sings alongside its critters at the rise of morning light.
Although the world has always been bold enough to define it, it still remains an experience to be met.
At first glance, we may be drawn to
the thick brushstrokes across the canvas,
the speckled blue of their eyes,
the soft, melodic rhythm of their voice,
and the breathtaking scenery from the tallest of mountaintops.
Sometimes we leave it at just that.
Something to be observed, admired, or breathed in and exhaled.
But if we stay long enough, curious enough, beauty isn’t the only thing asking to be known:
Why the thick brushstrokes?
What is the story behind those speckled blue eyes?
How does such a voice evoke the feeling of peace itself?
What other rare treasures lie beyond the greenery?
Beyond beauty lies
a depth that is waiting to be explored,
a story to be read,
an emotion to be felt,
and a substance that carries meaning to the surface.
If we were to return to the homepage, we would soon find that it is the what, the why, and the how that call for answers. And refinement and beauty can be what follows once the answers have earned their place.
Past the homepage, there is also the written one, where process asks that we not worry about the first draft.
To treat words like a raw, unfiltered purge.
To allow ourselves to let them spill onto the page like bulleted points of rain.
It may not be pretty, but it’s honest.
And from that mess, we can sculpt them into coherence.
There,
depth becomes accessible,
the story is clear,
the emotion is true,
and the substance is the beauty itself.
