When I was in college, we had a saying, a sweet and careful tease, "What color IS the sky in your world?" We gave to gave to each other when someone said something that was cluelessly off course. We'd laugh and smile and often get answer. Purple, green, and gold were popular.
At each answer I gave or got, I would imagine a world with a sky that color. The image was always clear and filled with wonder. It was a breath. It was a breeze. a hug with friends around me. , It was a fleeting pleasure. How could I know how refreshing, how refueling, how fun it was? I didn't know because . . .
Because back then I only thought a young person's thoughts.
Then awake at sunrise, I saw the color of a boy's eyes. We would still be up and talking, greeting morning as an ending. It was feeling the longing of trying to pack another second into the swiftly, sliding, waning minutes that would see him gone. The sky was blue by then.
Now I see the sunrise from a black beginning. It's a wholesome, open , spacious feeling. Every color fades in for me to savor one-by-one. Life is the flavor of coffee. Work is the ideas stretching out into the day that lays itself out on the lake before me. It's a glory and a stroke of genius every morning.
What color is the sky in my world? is not a clueless question anymore.
--me strauss Letting me be