Skip to main content

Wanting to Wear Rainbows

Photo by Lyn



I look in the mirror. I see myself dressed in my usual sober colors. Navy vest, light blue long sleeved shirt, and chocolate brown cords--do brown and blue even go together? (Apparently I'm willing to risk it). Oh, and navy socks with tiny white polka dots. That's fun, right?

My brown hair looks fuzzy from the rain. I've pulled it back into a pony tail. It's the best I can do with it, without starting from scratch.

Wanting to feel better. Wanting to wear rainbows.

Then I remember my awesome winter scarf, perfect for this cold day, the one I dragged my husband all over Paris to find, when my heart's desire was a colorful winter scarf a la Parisienne.

I run and find it. There it is! I grab it and spiral it around my neck. I smile. My heart warms.

I love color. I love rainbows, and now I am wearing them.

Is it going too far to say that I was already looking out for myself, back on that day, when I set out on a brave little quest to find a little spray of color from the heavens that I could wear; a simple accessory that would hold me in a loving embrace, keep me warm, perhaps give me a small sense of security--all, while adding the splendid color I'd been craving?

I can't wait to find what other gifts I have already given myself.

I wonder what heart's desire I will follow today that will come back to me as a sacred gift in time.
Labels:

Comments

  1. JuliaNovember 10, 2009 at 1:57 PM

    Oh my gosh--this first paragraph totally cracked me up!

    Specifically, these two lines: "Do brown and blue even go together?" and "Oh, and navy socks with tiny white polka dots. That's fun, right?"

    Glad you found your rainbow today...they really are everywhere if we pause long enough to look.

    ReplyDelete
  2. LynNovember 10, 2009 at 2:02 PM

    I feel all warm and comforted.

    Aaah, all is well.

    Lovely!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

♥ Thank you for taking the time connect with me here. ♥

Popular posts from this blog

RIP Poltergeist

After over ten years of an incredibly intense journey as a seeker, I find myself lying fallow. Taking a rest. When I first discovered this uncomfortable fact — threat to the hamster wheel that was my spiritual rat race, I surrendered for dead, but something wouldn’t let that fact sit as truth. I was lying fallow, but this implied that after a good rest, fruit could follow. This had nothing to do with death.

I am humbled at the courage it takes to write. For many years I kept a blog read by only a handful of very supportive people, and you’d think that after sharing writing for so long with perfect strangers, writing would have gotten easier. Actually, it got harder. In fact, at one point I was so paralyzed, I just stopped writing altogether. It was just too vulnerable. There was no trust there anymore, and I attributed any courage I had had to my youthful ignorance.

However, life continues, as it inevitably does, and there is still this pang to write, and it grows stronger and strong…
4 comments
Read more

Here With You

Photo by Daria Obymaha on Pexels.com
Sinking lips into your tiny round cheeks, I'm home. Holding your tiny head to my heart, caressing my chin to your downy baby 'chicken fluff' we'll come to call it later, I'm home. Taking in your baby magic scent, I'm home. Pressing nose to nose, forehead to forehead, staring wide-eyed into each other's eyes, I'm home. Toting little bum and dangling legs around my middle, I'm home. Filled with purpose as you point where to go, what you see, I'm home. Your eyes, new windows to a world I thought I knew, I'm home. Holding you with fever, picking you up when you fall, I'm home. Navigating the years between, boxes of your firsts, every paint brush and pen stroke a miracle, I'm home. Saving pottery penguins, turtles, shiny red roses, a burrito with all the fixings immortalized in clay, I'm home. Kid sister fruit and craft stand on the corner, change clinking in coin purse, magic for the neighborhood…
2 comments
Read more

Storyholder

Photo by Ben Herbert on Pexels.com

I’m standing on a cliff overlooking the water’s edge. The sky is present, hanging there in its vastness, holding this moment with symphonic strains of gray and electric buzz. Watching, suspended, sensing.

I see to both sides of me vast white cliffs carved out by relentless grasping of the ocean extending down the coastline.

The earth where I am standing up above gives just the right yield and welcome, with its soft grass and dainty yellow flowers, falsely giving the impression of delicacy, when anyone can see that they are hardy to withstand the harshness of forces here.

There is an undeniable tightness of gravity here, pinning me down, tugging at me, slowing down my step. I feel as if this force could just sweep me away with the littlest of a flick, like an ant off the table. It screams danger while it beckons.

My life had been recently taking on new grander design dimensions when this place and I met. Dating a new man, after being a single mom for…
1 comment
Read more