Bringing Beauty to the Light

A writing exercise from Writing in the Dark

This has always been a favorite quote from Walt Whitman:

“Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)

I’ve been giving some thought to what I’m doing here with my Substack, and just like my life, I seem to be trying to find a place to settle into. Writing within a specific niche or topic hasn’t been feeling right—I feel confined. Maybe because I haven’t learned the art of weaving an essay yet; I don’t know. I started Sacred Environment in May 2024 with the intention to write about Nature connection then switched to my art journey. With my focus for 2025 on grace and flow, I will be releasing what wants to be written—what wants to see the light. I hope you stay for the journey.

“A thing of beauty is a joy forever: its loveliness increases;
it will never pass into nothingness.”
~ John Keats

The following is my writing for Week 1 from

Jeannine Ouellette

’s workshop intensive Writing in the Dark - For the Joy and the Sorrow. It was suggested to start the essayette with “What you don’t know…”

---

Writing Exercise: Unexpectedly Tender

What you don’t know when you start removing layers with loving tenderness is the extent of beauty and potential that may be exposed. She had lived in three dark basements before she saw the light. And not nicely finished basements. No, she found herself in not one but three damp, musty-smelling basements, the kind that collects the unwanted, the forgotten.

My grandparent’s basement was one of my hiding spots. A place I could be out of their way and not cause trouble. Near the stairs stood an old piano where I’d sit with my butt planted on the wooden bench, gently pressing the keys so as not to create a disturbance. I never learned to play any songs but it passed the time.

The piano bench made its way to my childhood home after my grandmother passed. Her new purpose was as a pottery wheel seat. All respect was gone at this point and she found herself splattered in caked-on clay. One time she was handy so was used as a makeshift workbench--the drill bit went too deep leaving two little scars.

A few years ago I found her while cleaning out another basement. I knew she would make the perfect living room coffee table. Sturdy and solid mahogany.

We spent uncountable time together on a blanket on the back lawn. I gently and patiently started removing layers of grime, dried clay, and purplish-brown stain and varnish which had crazed like old porcelain, or wrinkles. I only intended to refinish the top and paint her legs black but as her honey-colored grain started to appear, I vowed to expose the spindles and legs as well. Gradually raising the sandpaper grit, she became “smooth as a baby’s bottom”. You would never find a solid piece of mahogany 16” wide now, there is no quality to lumber anymore. The little scars add to her authenticity.

Her aged, dried skin soaked up many coats of varnish before quenching her thirst. I truly believe she loved all the touching and attention, I know I loved exposing her beauty.

She shines a warm glow adorning my sunlit living room. Although I feel no sentimentality to her past, bringing her beauty to the light was something we needed.

---

Peace, Love & Blessings,

Tania

If something I wrote inspired or brightened your day a little, or anything else you’d like to share… I’d be very grateful to hear about it in the comments. A restack or clicking the little heart 💜 for a “like” would always be appreciated.