Throughout time, the desire to adorn the face with make-up has existed, symbolism on display, painting much more than a face, but a story.
From perfumes to jewelry, from the sacred clown to the clown world, there is a duality that comes to life on faces. The eyes give it away if you look deep enough to see the actors playing a role, hiding behind a mask decorated by the hands of antiquity.
Today, marketing propaganda has “painted a picture” of what beauty should be and the vastness of this industry is proof of both the demand and the effectiveness in advertising.
Make-up has been seen as everything from proof of higher status and wealth to lower class, prostitution and implied evidence that something is being “covered up.”
Lead and poisonous concoctions were used to make the lips redder and flush the cheeks to appear more desirable, more youthful. The toxins used in today’s cosmetics are no different, as manufacturers strive to increase profits and feed their sister industry (big pharma), but you too can have beauty in a bottle at this low price of $9.99.
Influencers blanket the interweb reviewing the latest “hack” to suppress wrinkles, lift the jowls, plump and smooth. Expensive treatments and devices make vast claims that often have no better results than simply staying hydrated and being consistent that basic caring for your skin would yield.
Make-up is even used in death to prolong the realness that the deceased is in fact…deceased. A lack of awareness looms that this is, indeed, a ritual being enacted as part of the grieving process.
Sometimes using contour or bronzers is the rage, but the next year women will spend a fortune to apply make-up to make it look like they aren’t wearing any.
Coming from the Generation X time period, blue eyeshadow was the cool “thing.” I distinctly remember my stepfather grabbing a cotton ball and telling me I would not be leaving the house with that eyeshadow on my face. I was mortified and it wasn’t until many years later I began to see this act of defiance was so much more than a painted face and no one was going to tell me otherwise. I can see how that moment of discipline was about preventing embarrassment (for both of us), yet also denial of my ability to make mistakes and learn for myself what felt right for me.
From those teenager years, I became a woman who had to show up in the world, had to figure out a way to survive, to play in the immense labyrinth of existence and understanding that unfolds in the heroine’s journey…a woman discovering herself.
The ritual of preparing for the day by putting on my war-paint became my own initiation into being tenacious, a form of protection, an armor and I needed it. It was a coping mechanism that served its place on the journey.
I wouldn’t go to the grocery store without make-up on my face, how terrifying to be seen any other way. The rawness of the skin on the face is so much more than it seems. All the pain, trauma, and angst I had experienced in my life was hidden behind a shade of beige, a foundation so shaky that each night it would be washed off in mere moments, only to have to be built up again the next morning.
Superficial beauty is fleeting and also in the eye of the beholder. Poor choices in relationships left me with new wounds as I was told to wear more make-up, wear less make-up, be thinner, be curvier, wear your hair long, wear your hair short, dress this way, dress that way, color your hair, hide the gray….be anything other than what you are. I let my world be dictated outwardly by those letting their world be dictated in the same way, indoctrination by keeping up “appearances.” The curse of caring what others think married with the knowing that sometimes what others think is a useful reflection or helpful observance. The balance of living in a way true to self, versus an exhaustible search for more that will never be fulfilling.
Beauty in media is praised for its lustful youthfulness. Biohacking and beauty-hacking seem not to see how this is all “hacking” away at trust in our bodies natural progression of being, and, thus, is a hacking away at something deeper. It’s a symptom of a sort of ancestral trauma and lack of understanding the importance of adornment and ritual in its proper place in our everyday lives. Instead, a sick world promotes “hacking” away parts of ourselves via surgery as normal, just be what you are not, just cut away what you don’t want to see. From germ theory to reality mayhem to biohacking, the constant theme is that nature is bad, the body doesn’t know what it is doing and God made a mistake. The truth is, nature is not evil, even in its most brutal aspects, there lives beauty in acknowledging all its parts, all its gifts…we are not separate from it and it is a wise teacher if we’ll accept our part in it, instead of always trying to sever what is being revealed or blamed for our own doing…consequences…mistakes.
Men grow more prestigious, their wrinkles a badge of honor, their roughness more attractive, their grey hair sexy. They have other battles to wage; I don’t discount that as we are different for a reason. Women have to go through a journey internally to overcome all of these “projected preferences” by the world at-large, the programming, the indoctrination into beliefs that are only surface-level and definitely NOT SKIN-DEEP!
I’m glad to see a movement now of women letting their grey hair be as it is, free from the dyes that bind…strands of hair as symbols to “lock” in time. I’m also glad to see natural options arise for those of us still making that emotional transition to silver crown.
I’m 48 now, but I remember being 38 and seeing in the mirror the crone staring back at me. It was terrifying, I feel so youthful but that’s not what I see. I see wisdom staring back at me, but she is haggard and worn, she’s been through so much. Is this how others see me, I wonder?
The archetypes of the maiden-mother-crone live in all women coming out in different expressions at different times in life. The “revealing” of what is, what isn’t, what will never be shown, yet in the mirror is an outline of a map, a path walked by every wrinkle, every puffy under-eye bag (baggage or bag-gauge), and the settling in and grounding down of a matrix shaped by the era of an epidermis on display.
There is both a trodden trail of tears and a golden road paved by laughter behind life experiences that shape us. Some women get to be mother’s, some don’t, both result in something lost and something gained.
Some women find the warrioress in themselves by tearing the mask off, some need it to survive.
No matter how you look at it, this is a complex topic built into the fabric of our lives, our rituals, our ancestral make up…in its make-up.
When 2020 happened, somehow, I could see through the façade, the superficial layer of the collective unconsciousness showing its own face to the world in an unknown desire for more than this world was revealing. As such, the literal masks pushed on people to wear, dug the wound deeper.
As a bit of a hermit, already working from home and diving into my own sense of purpose and spiritual development, I welcomed the quarantine as an opportunity to go even deeper. I moved to the country and just stopped putting on make-up for a while. I wish I had done it 20 years earlier as I never looked nor felt as good without it, a new me was emerging, a fresher face, an authentic expression. The layers of time were literally being rewound as I peeled back and healed my own inner demons and unprocessed wounds. As I compared images from now to 5 years ago or 10 years ago, I could see in photos the harshness of trying too hard slowly melt away.
I still love make-up, but my entire approach has changed, it’s minimal now, what used to be a normal routine feels like playing dress-up. When we are young girls, playing dress-up helps us get a feel for who we are, what lights us up, what feels good, but sometimes we get stuck in a role that is not us. As a teenager, I remember learning about skin creams from my grandmother, oh how special it was to get ready with her and slather on that cold cream. I had a chance to see her look in the mirror and face her own mortality, no doubt, she never knew the gift she was giving me in those moments.
There is something ritualistic and deeply feminine about the process of touching the skin, bringing blood flow to the surface, feeling connected to our physical body, nourishing the soul and activating the senses with naturally fragrant beauty potions. There is a rhythm of applying cream that unlocks something unexplainable. (I say not “anti-aging” cream because that term is yet another programming tool that claims aging is bad, so I call it my “aging well” cream, instead).
Applying a luscious lip glaze brings the senses into the present moment, a reminder of the beauty that can express in a supple exchange, how the lips are a medium for words spoken, spells cast from the powerful energy held in them, or the dry harshness that can spew from cracked thoughts held inside and censored, prying their way out, seeking permission to emerge.
Applying mascara to the lashes, a reminder to seek beauty in the world, in the self, and strive for clarity.
Each part of the ritual weaves a tapestry and every woman is an artist.
Letting your true self come out is difficult in a world that only wants to see the mask. It’s a process, not an overnight instant state to come into…women who have never worn it like to play in the possibilities of how it can gently express what already is on occasion, while women who have piled on the layers for years sometimes aren’t yet aware of what they are hiding from, usually within themselves.
The process of applying make-up can be part of aging gracefully in the same way it can be mindless chase towards not getting older, both live inside the practice of caring for our skin and enhancing our natural beauty, it is participating in the allowing of our body to be a canvas, like the jewelry and clothes we wear, it is deeply feminine and innate to us in the same way we make a house a home…because this too, is a home of a different kind.
So yes, age gracefully, but know that it’s ok if it is not easy because it's hard some days when you begin to see the crone staring back at you, but still feel young and vibrant. It's not so black and white, it's a different experience for women than men, this aging gracefully stuff. Something inside of us wants to make our appearance more beautiful, to partake in the ritual of adornment, to let our inner health reflect out. It’s so much more than the superficiality it is labeled as, a potential point of connection to Divinity.
To connect with ourselves on new levels, like a serum penetrating deeper into the skin, is to undertake the ritual aspect of self-care, a striving towards more authentic “expression,” and an enhancement of attributes that make us unique.
It’s not always about hiding or covering up, sometimes it is about eliciting a feeling in order to go into the world and survive, provide, create, express…. we are a living painting.
Like many women, I’ve had a love-hate relationship with make-up and beauty products. I now use natural products filled with healing ingredients that create a luxurious experience that I look forward to. One ritual to start the day and energize my skin and being and another to wind-down and prepare for restful sleep.
There is duality that lives in this, both good and bad potential that can be unfurled. Hidden shadows of pain can be adorned so beautifully that you’d never know anything was wrong. Beautiful temptresses can lure men weak in backbone, controlled only their desires into webs. Deceptive catfishing on the dating interwebs hides behind filters and make-up “techniques” that are tainted in desperation. Yet the most naturally beautiful can also live with jealousy, harshness, discrimination and accusations that create unspoken wounds not allowed out in a world where many can only see the privilege in beauty and not the pain and challenges it can bring.
There are always two sides of the story, each individual walks in shoes only they can wear, if only we could all see this nuance and appreciate it another. If only we could learn to harness our attention towards what really matters and open our hearts so that instead of being distracted by beauty, we can see it for what it really is.
Ultimately, beauty is not in perfection, but play, not in what seems put together, but in the hidden elements of realness…under the ugliest places, experiences and things lives real beauty.
At the same time, some of us are trying to balance the growing old gracefully with the fear of being seen, with the fierceness of allowing our authenticity to express fully in wholeness and with the knowing that saying goodbye to the maiden and mother is incredibly heart-wrenching.
If donning a little make-up as a rite of passage through this natural part of life can reassure us and assist us along the way, then let us not judge the way the road has been weathered for it is not a competition. Some women who have endured the unthinkable wear a smooth skin that tells-no-tales while others who have lived a pleasurable life, fortunate to not have as many obstacles to overcome, now face those obstacles with a wrinkling outer appearance and an expectation that can no longer be met…. or hidden. As it is said, “you cannot judge a book by its cover,” at least sometimes that is true (but not always).
We each have to conquer the inner demons in our own ways. We each have a battle to win from the inside out. We each get to create beauty in the world through our own ways and it cannot be denied that the outer world does influence how that walkway of life will appear in its outer manifestation.
So, if you want to wear the blue eyeshadow, wear it. If others think it makes you look like a clown, then find the sacred clown in you. If it makes you feel beautiful, then remember, as the artist, not everyone will be able to see beyond the outer expression, for it truly is in the eye of the beholder. It is sacred and an exchange in perception like walking past a painting in a museum…. a moment in time that evokes an experience and many will walk right by and never notice.
So what is aging gracefully anyway? Is it baring all for the world to see? Is it a form of elegance in expression? Is it the allowance of the archetype of your own soul to shine forth in whatever way you so choose? Does it mean you are not aging gracefully if you work to prolong your natural beauty with healthy ageing products? (I’m not supporting the toxicity of the beauty industry and harmful products and procedures; I’ve been victim to that myself and have seen the harm it can do. I also know many women don’t yet know what they don’t know in that regard and are working with what they can where they are at.)
I write this hoping that you can have the courage to look in that mirror and see the beauty that lives in the truth of your being as you are now, let her stare back at you raw and unfiltered…what do you see?
Really, can you see her? She’s not wearing blue eye-shadow for attention, she’s longing to be seen for her true self, she’s tired of feeling dismissed, she’s exhausted from trying to wear so many hats and juggle so many responsibilities, she’s fearful that she’s disappearing in a world that doesn’t encourage her to be in her feminine essence, her wildness, her creative flow. She’s seeking her soul and she wears it on her soles. Her eyelids feel heavy so she paints them so she can keep going, her inner child trying to stay awake. She tries to put on a good face but is told to wipe off those blues in a bouquet of shades…is it melancholy on display or a rebellious act from the fray.
No matter what, it’s an individual process, and don’t let anyone tell you how you should age.
If you want to age gracefully, do it because you want to embrace the realness of life, the most authentic version of you, to find the beauty and joy from the inside out, not because you feel pressured to age in just another way dictated by the other side of society trying to escape the toxic established narratives.
Age gracefully by letting all of yourself be seen.
Age gracefully by listening to your inner voice and expressing yourself in all your creative essence.
Age gracefully by experimenting with beauty, fashion, ritual, building up, tearing down, playing with archetypes, remembering who you are and where you came from and where you want to go…let it be play!
Women want to feel safe, to feel desired, to be able to be ok being seen in their imperfect state. Consciously or unconsciously, a business woman wants to come home and throw her heels off in the same way a woman doing a job in uniform wants to get dressed up and put those heels on sometimes. This is the same woman on a different path, walking a different journey, but going in the same direction. This is what leads to an awakening, when those shoes can no longer be worn, when the squeezing into the version of you expected to show up in a certain way by the world has to die so the more authentic version can be born.
Hope dangles a carrot, a threat of annihilation, just look around at the insanity of males painting their faces as women in a blasphemous pretending and normalization of mental illness. I know there are genuine exceptions in this, but most are victim to a sick society. Regardless, it is not the painting of the face that makes a woman, it is her spirit, her soulful essence, her desire to express herself, her fierce ability to protect her children, her yearning to birth more beauty into this world by seeing what is already there and giving it color.
Be beautifully you. Age the best way you can. Embrace nature. Try to see the beauty in your journey, in the lines that tell a story on the canvas of your face. I know it’s not easy, but beauty truly is an inside job and love flourishes in many hues, in many blues…it waits for you.
BLUE EYESHADOW
Aging is not for the faint of heart
A blessing it is, a work of art
She must remember who she’s not
While her true self forgot to blot
Restlessness swirls inside her
Can her youth be deferred?
The mirror reveals a saboteur
A paradox with cobalt words
With love and not-so-graceful graceful aging,
~ Angela
AngelaMorris.com
The Irrational Sage
Blue-tiful! 💙👏
was a teen beginning in the 70’s, a time when women removed their bras and makeup… and their natural hippy side shined. I never used much of it, except for theater makeup, which was all the time except in the daytime. and I wore it for publicity presentations, and going out on the town.
I moved out to the country when I partially retired from touring and now I have nowhere to wear it. Out in the country there is no one to impress but the birds and butterflies! Lol!