meditating upon a well-rounded collection of colours evokes a deep understanding of transition. colours guide me gently through the changes in my life, from seasons to holidays to emotions to subtle invocations that i might never fully understand. It is not one colour but all the colours that fill in the contours of my life, giving them depth and meaning and context.
with the seasons i come to expect colour, like a guest whose arrival i cherish and whose departure i do not take personally: of course the yellows and golds and cannot stay, it is time for the whites and the pale blues to come! with colour we are reminded to stay humbly enamored with changes.
on even smaller levels, i find myself marking time with colours. green asparagus, peas, and baby lettuces give way to the more haughtily coloured roots and finally to the blushing apples that introduce me again to winter.
without trying, i am collecting colours all the time, organizing them in neat rows, cataloguing them so i can put them to use at a later date. i orchestrate the colours in my toolbox to create a beautiful meal, a perfect outfit, a room that puts me at ease. In these ways, i silently express ideas, thoughts, and emotions to those who come into contact with me.
what’s more, i find myself mapping my own inner life with colour. the robin’s egg in the grass is so timidly and gently blue, so apologetically blue, that i might want to cradle that blue and hide it somewhere deep inside me. i might want my own vulnerability coloured so appropriately. the robust sunset of pinks, oranges and maroons that make up a pile of beets, piled like tiny muddy suns, convey health, home, earth, and humility.
“Heavens,” i might think, inspecting the ruddy orbs, “I had forgotten it was possible to be so strong, while still remaining so sweet.”