I remember the day well. I was driving to work on a regular morning. Stopped in rush hour traffic, I looked to the sky and noticed a treasure of sunlight, happily escaping the cloudy and gray layers swirling around it. I thought to myself, “good for you, ray of light, for fighting your way through!” Then, without warning, and for no reason I can understand, I remembered something funny my Mom once said. I smiled. My smile turned to laughter. You know the kind of laughter – the impromptu, authentic, soul-felt laughter. I realized it was just me and that ray of light, giggling together, holding hands in secret, wondering if the other drivers could ever understand. My heart danced lightly, as I caught a glimpse of emotion I didn’t remember existed.
The day unrolled in its normal way, but it revealed threads of more emotion in its tapestry that I hadn’t noticed for so long. Where had all the color been all these years? As I dedicated myself to the projects and responsibilities of my work day, I smiled to myself as I realized that my world was becoming bigger, more colorful. My heart’s lens was suddenly able to capture more of the world around me. I changed that day.
When I got home that evening, I longed for my ray of sunlight - my companion only hours earlier. I went outside to reminisce. My ray was long gone, but the oranges and pinks in the Colorado evening sky surrounded me in beauty I hadn’t really felt that deeply before. I realized in that moment that the light of my Mom’s life was breaking through the clouds of her suicide. With this light, I finally had access to the myriad of human emotions, the entire spectrum, buried so deep for so long. Although I was unaware that this tiny ray of light would lead to a meteor shower of emotion in the coming months and years, I was able to feel in color again. The fog of numbness had lifted; I was alive.
A watercolor painting, "Tree of Life." Life is so beautiful if you are able to feel it in color.
Monday, April 13, 2015
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