color

In one of my Juicy Journaling sessions, SARK asked what role color plays in my life. When I read that question, I realized that color is a huge part of my life. I reflected on the fact that I am attracted to bright, bold splashes of it. That I dream in technicolor. That when I have a migraine aura, it comes in flashes and jagged edges of bright blues, reds, purples and oranges. That when I am feeling especially connected, I can even sometimes see a person's aura - represented to me in different colored hues.

I realized that I love color and I love finding color, especially in the places I travel to! My adventures are intertwined with color and the colors etch themselves in my mind, when I think back on a city or a country.

I remember when I was in Ireland in 2006 - I discovered the multitude of shades of green that were a part of the countryside. At times, they seemed to be fluorescent - the hues popped out so vibrantly. Balanced against the rough, grey stone of the West coast and the thatched-roof houses that could be mistaken for being dour, the green added a playfulness to the landscape. Like a mischievous leprechaun winking at you as he danced across a field.

This year, I was in the Middle East, and I remember the rich, dusky burnt-red textures of the Omani desert - spilling out like a matte paint - that coated the surface of everything. The hot, smooth sand that I could feel in my hair, lined my face, stuck to my eyelashes, and caressed my toes. The grit that I could feel in my teeth. Where the hide of camels and other desert animal life blended in so magnificently, you felt you were adrift in an orange-red ocean, with waves and ripples obscuring the shore.

I remember the crystal clear turquoise water of the ocean of Turks and Caicos, and how the white sand sparkled like fresh snow in the glare of the hot sunlight. The brilliant flashes of color coming from the plentiful sea life that lived just below the surface of that warm, inviting tapestry. The saltiness enveloping and washing over you.

I remember the splashes of pinks, purples and yellows of the Painted Ladies - as they called the Victorian houses that lined the streets of San Francisco. Tall and narrow, the pointed roofs reaching up towards the blue sky. We used to drive by them as we passed Golden Gate park on our way into the city.

And I remember the way the steel bowls of the Thai night markets caught the neon lights and street lamps. Bouncing like rubber balls off of shiny surfaces and people's faces, reflecting the mouth-watering curries, vegetables, and banana/chocolate crepes inside.

Clearly color comes to me like poetry - helping me shape my experiences with textures and a language unto its own - vivid; brilliant; rich...