Today I would like to discuss color, hope, love and worry.
These things have been talked about in a profoundly intimate setting this morning and at other times in the past couple of weeks.
We worry constantly about things that are in the future when at the present exists a poignant and beautiful moment that will never happen again. We enter into relationships under pretenses that prevent it from blossoming to its full potential. We think about the future and keep ourselves from being mindful in the present. We don’t hold the people we love tight enough, we don’t communicate our thoughts, dreams, and wishes. We prevent ourselves from seeing the colors that are there for us to enjoy.
Someone special read this to me over a cup of strong and sweet ginger tea by the fire the other night:
Inside the hollowness that is bone
and the hollowness that is us, blue
is how it has always been and how
it will always be:
the swallows prancing over the fields
were blue, and in the star-swift glide
of sky over the clouds, I realized
we end as we began, and moved along:
blue baby, blue sky, sweet blue grief,
the deep blue of no more breathing.
Tempera on paper or oil on canvas,
it is the blue envelope of the voice
that says I love you, and when the bones
open out into their pelvic dust, the blue
that is always blue is always there.
The color blue means a lot for me.
The landscape I live in—particularly in winter—is black and white. But it’s broken up by belts of blue in the sky and water. And like most things precious and sacred, it comes and goes and its levels of intensity vary depending upon the day.
Did you take the time for yourself to go to yoga today?
If you did, were you mindful about it while you did it? Did you enjoy the cup of coffee you had this morning? Did you go outside today to see the splendor that someone—whoever it is for you—created for you? Did you kiss the one you love today? If you did, did you mean it? Did you make a goal of intention for yourself today? Did you love your life and the people within it today? I hope you did. Replace worry with hope. Replace stress with works of good and compassion.
I leave my life and the people I know every May and put out wildfires until October. I don’t get very many days off and I often don’t have phone service. Naturally, this leads to a fear of leaving and losing the connection with the ones I love most. I literally fear that the love I share with someone will go up in smoke and flames.
We (and for the purposes of this post, it doesn’t matter who we are) were talking last night and this morning about letting go of the idea of things and relationships never changing. Things always change, and it is better to learn to watch things and moments change, appreciate their beauty and joy, watch them float by, and then let them go. And if you believe with good faith and innocent intention that another perfect, love-filled moment will come, you will experience it. If you are kind and fill yourself with love and admiration for another, they will stay with you, if you trust them, regardless of where you go.
Each moment is unique, and consider the notion that people die at the same rate as people live; so, cherish those who love you and who you love—reciprocate that always because life is fleeting. Find the beauty in others, and they will see the beauty and kindness within you.
Find the blue within your mind and your soul and watch its levels and shades vary from day to day.
Jenna Penielle Lyons was born in Portales, New Mexico among sage and sand. Raised in Pocatello, Idaho among the black rock and juniper, she grew up wandering in cowboy boots, running, riding bikes, skiing, climbing, painting, and studying classical ballet. She is a scholar of English Literature, a poet, painter, photographer, musician, metalsmith, and outdoorswoman. She winters in Missoula and spends the summer working for Snake River Hotshots. She is a lover of mountain bluebirds & elephants, tea & good coffee, Carl Jung, Salvador Dali, yoga, harp music, and sagebrush. Her favorite foods are borscht and any combination of chocolate and cayenne pepper. Check out her work and follow her adventures at http://www.thelyonsroarliterature.blogspot.com.
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Ed: Kate Bartolotta