I am growing more accustomed to the things we call interruptions, hiccups, delays, setbacks and derailments. Whether they come in the form of human bodies, events and activities or the wear and tear of physical things that need seeing to. They are becoming something I file under the heading "natural consequences."
The reason I need some place to file them at all is because I see how much the warm side of me really wants to put them in their place, dramatically casting them as the villainous side of my story. My fire wants to rage against them. Not allow them to rise to the top and take over, as if that is even what they are trying to do. My warm side feels threatened. It wants all the energy, all the drama, all the flair of center stage. It wants to wedge these cool colours as the thorn in my side. To proclaim them bitch worthy. To warn me on how, when I'm not watching, the coldness of my life will take root underground and then pop up in all my living. My warm insides want to flare and use up every ounce of my energy to counterattack.
My bright things try to be the loudest, by putting the dull things down, down, further down where of course they belong. My bright things try to pick fights.
But you see, I already have the bright palette colours selected for my life. It is what we discuss in The Magic School 101 while reading Ayn Rand's Romantic Manifesto - What are my values? What is my moral code that directs my living and my creating and all my beloved choice making? My bright things are secure.
Bright colours are reserved for the things they are needed for. Things like Self and creativity and imagination and love and vulnerability and meaning and simple moments of great beauty. This is the warmness of my life. The parts that feel like a cozy fire I want to pull a chair towards.
The cooler colours are what I have traditionally seen as the things in my life that "I'd just soon rather not." The conflicts with other human beings, the conflicts rising up within myself, the dying of what was, the feelings of depression and anxiety, the boring routine ins and outs of everyday that take so much time, the errands and the physical demands of money and fuel and rest and health and hearth.
But since grey has become my comfort colour as of late, I've discovered a new appreciation for Robert Henri's words as well as this cooler range of my artistic colour palette.
What they quite honestly do now is offer a much needed sort of grounding for the warm colours. A place to hold the fire while it blazes. A place to keep me from burning myself out. Sometimes after dumping out myself vulnerably and creatively all I really want to do is to take out the trash, scrub the tub, prepare a meal, fold a shirt, read a book to my sons, empty the dishwasher, take my daughter to school or my son to a bike ride, purchase one solitary box of tampons at the store. And sometimes when I really want to witness the capacity of my own warmth, the best backdrop is that of an icy encounter with a frozen bank account or the cold shoulder of another human being.
The cool of life is no longer making me aghast. In fact, I love the chance to detach from the emotion of it all. What if some things in my life just get to be, almost apathetically so. They just get to be. I'm not responsible for man-handling them into the warmer end of the colour spectrum or deliberating on why their temperatures feels so chilly. I love that.
These days I am practicing not being so surprised or offended or taken aback or disgruntled or embarrassed by the utter coolness of my life with all its outcroppings that are entirely natural consequences. To keep moving forward in the times my living doesn't feel on fire because it is still MY living. And what is most brilliant to see is my warmth show up on the backsplash of an altogether grey canvas and to feel the comfort in that because it is all up to me. My life is not slave to circumstances.
I welcome the grey. I enjoy the coolness. I know what an opportunity it is giving to the fire within me. I no it is rest and sanctuary and a letting go of that which doesn't serve me. I no longer wish to burn so bright so as to devour the chill. I no longer wish to be so honest and raw and detached and play it so cool that I limit the warmth of my vulnerability. I welcome my cool life as comfort and partner my warm life with it entirely. It is all really a wonder and it feels so very natural and simple. To just let my life, in all its range of colours, be.