Inspirations: Archives

My favorite person asked me this morning, “If we could turn red before we die, do you think we’d mind dying?” “Not so much. Red-imbued, I’d prepare with greater anticipation, more chutzpah, less cringing. It’s a glorious color for death.” We stood in the first rain-light of early morning, surrounded by denuded trees, skeletal in the ponderous sky. Last leaf survivors hung hard to small branches, shocking reds and oranges predominant. Indeed, the very colors to choose in going out with a bang, not a whimper. We need passionate tones for any crossing, for they fill us with courage, and drama, often the necessities missing when we shudder toward surrender. White, grey and black are CW answers to celebrating death. Remembering Dylan Thomas’ words, “Rage, rage against the dying of the light,” it seems he might have preferred a red-ending for his father, and himself, instead of the black sack cloth and Celtic call to drink. A red-palette exuberance carries us through unknown territory to the other side of what? It matters not as long as we feel stalwart, and true to our inner light, becoming the color that dazzles us. Time to fill ourselves in the last sizzle of fall’s glory as we release the year’s aspirations. We are spiraling toward a different time, one where we must internally cultivate our joy, and faith, for the world will not as willingly offer up its cheap thrills. Like the trees, we are stripping down, banking inner fires to survive. Rumi might ask, “What color are you in this moment? In red, we leap up with last huzzas. “One that neither change nor death make afraid.” Asana: Pasasana/Noose or cord Pose. Squat down, keeping heels down, or place a small pillow under them. Turning the trunk as far to the R… Read more »