Beautiful Things

I need to admit it. I live in a bubble. A bubble of beautiful things. If I'd allow anyone into my bubble, here's what they would experience:

Vivaldi in the CD Player
A soft glow of at least ten candles - my altar to heaven.
The scent of moist soil from the potted plants - my altar to earth.
Shelves of books - old and new - my altar to knowledge and expansion.
Pictures of family - my altar of what is most precious to me.

Outside of my bubble, I try to maintain the same eye for beauty but it is hard. It is hard when I see people living as robots and not seeking enlightenment in any form. I see mean people who force their views and opinions on unwilling listeners. I see people putting others down so they can be seen in a better light. I see suffering be it physical, mental or spiritual. I see stone-cold eyes pleading for forgivess or redemption - from the one they've wrong, but mostly from themselves or the Creator.

I can feel evil in people, a chill when I'm next to them, a sudden shiver as they pass by. I can see it too - the colors - oil-slick brown/black emanating from their bodies like a polluted aura.

Sometimes I'd rather just stay in my bubble, my safe space, my santuary. It's too scary on the outside.