I hate gray. Not so much as a color, but as an atmosphere. Certain grays shut me down...cause my internal doors to close.
But, there are acceptable grays... grays that open me up, that bring contentment to the surface...
The gray of driving down a lonely, empty road in the fog. The sun, not yet above the invisible horizon. No other headlights coming at you as proof of life. Just you. Pure, untouched solitude. That's a good gray.
Then there's the gray of a walk in the woods on a drizzly day. But that gray is made better by the green and brown aromas. The wet earth, the dead leaves, moss, soggy lichen on a fallen branch. It's not a bad gray.
My personal favorite gray would find me walking along a rocky shore on an overcast day, particularly just before a storm. The wind whipping through my hair, leaving it damp and salty. Seabird tracks in the sand with my own. Clouds rolling in and over. Waves breaking over rocks. The air tickles your nose with it's stormy effervescence. It is in those gray windswept moments that I can feel the earth. It's majesty undeniable. I am whole. Every cell humming with something I can't really name. That's the best gray.
Today, if the sun comes out, I'll sit on my porch steps and turn my face up to my patch of blue and let all the yellow soak into my soul.
~ Kim
(This was written and posted originally in That Curious Love of Green - Creativity Salon in November of 2015)
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