Not to sound haughty, self-absorbed, or over-confident, but I’ve been getting a lot more compliments recently and I think it has very little to do with my sense of style, my longer hair, the effects of those silly drops, or even my new perfume.
I do, however, think it has everything to do with my fragrance.
beau·ty [byoo-tee]noun, plural -ties.
the quality present in a thing or person that gives intense pleasure or deep satisfaction to the mind, whether arising from sensory manifestations (as shape, color, sound, etc.), a meaningful design or pattern, or something else (as a personality in which high spiritual qualities are manifest). [from dictionary.com]
Beauty is a powerful thing. It can motivate and inspire. It can also intimidate and manipulate. People work very hard, spend tons of money, deny themselves, and submit to medical procedures in order to obtain it. It is envied over and lusted after. Science has even broken down the mathematics behind what causes a face to be perceived as beautiful. The strange thing is, despite such precise definition, the specific formula for attractiveness is tough to nail down.
We’ve probably all met someone very physically attractive – symmetrical face, well-styled hair, excellent taste in fashion, shiny white smile – whose beauty is diminished in close proximity. And the converse is also true; an average-looking person can inexplicably become downright magnetic. How is this possible? How can something that can be defined mathematically be so varied, so easily influenced?
A little over a year ago, I was struggling to figure out why I was unable to make progress in my relationships. There were things I’d been longing for for years and they just weren’t materializing. I shared my frustration with a certain wise lady who suggested the concept of fragrance and how we can attract the wrong things and repel the right ones without even realizing it’s happening. It was time to stop rationalizing and take a hard look at the common denominator in all my relationships – me.
When it came down to it, I had to admit that I probably smelled like a hospital. I was the walking wounded, nursing my cuts and bruises with nothing but a numbing agent, thinking that if I ignored them long enough they’d heal properly on their own. I also was carrying around some unforgiveness and a little bit of anger toward God. I can’t imagine those things blended together created a very attractive fragrance. Who’d want to get close to that? Who would that attract, entice, and engage? When doused in all those smells, even the most awesome person on the planet becomes repellant to anybody who doesn’t smell like that already themselves.
It’s always the little foxes, isn’t it? Those small things that nibble away at the vine of life. We think we can hide their effects. We put on our best front. But the vine still withers and the scent of decay hovers. Others may not be able to define it in words, but they sense it and respond accordingly.
Beauty…attractiveness…it’s much more than visual. It’s sensory. When people get near me, I want to smell like joy. Like peace. Like I’ve been with the Father. Such a fragrance not only enhances our outward appearance, it augments our inner beauty. It will draw people in. They won’t be able to explain it, but they’ll feel it. Sometimes, they’ll even tell you.
“You’re so beautiful.”
“You’re incredibly handsome.”
Trust me. It feels good to hear.