WHITE is not a mere absence of color; it is a shining and affirmative thing.
God paints in many colors; but He never paints so gorgeously, I had almost said so gaudily, as when He paints in white. - Gilbert K. Chesterton
I'm thinking about all the interior landscaping style and colors I loved before.
I had a blue Ming period, a green jade era, a short-lived Crazy Moroccan vibe, a Mariachi streak with an extra helping of red-hot, Vintage Victorian, and many others.
But lately, I've become friends with white as well as khaki and neutrals accented with black. (You may remember the story of the onset of my lunacy with white in last December's entry entitled, Pure As The Driven Snow.)
That's why when I looked out the window in the early morning that day, my heart skipped a beat when I spotted a sliver of fluttering white darting and dancing across the vining Virginia Creeper.
Do you remember I said white was my fav color?
It was a white butterfly.
I was fascinated because there were not a lot of these albino-like winged insects around. I could tell that it had just wakened to life after the sleep of darkness. Now, it was floating and moving in the air, flying upon the wings of its own spirit.
Some of my friends said that white signified death. Please tell me you don't believe that.
Oh, good. I don't either.
I saw purity, beauty, innocence, freedom, spiritual growth, and wisdom in that white butterfly. Remember Chrysalis? (Its parent movement is the UMC Walk to Emmaus, for those not in-the-know.)
It wasn't symbolic of the absence of color, but a beacon that signified the confluence of all colors.
It uplifted.
It affirmed.
Life is like a box of crayons.
With the lovely and, at the same time, furious red of emotions vying for primacy.
With the inky dark of a bleak night when it seems like there's nothing. Always nothing.
With the riotous motley hues of small things which, together, create great things.
With a golden sunrise that gives you the feeling of having just wakened from a spell that is meant to last forever.
And with the immaculate purity of a tomorrow that comes shining with purpose and miracles.
Such are life's colorful passages. It’s all in the shades and tint of the moment.
I had a blue Ming period, a green jade era, a short-lived Crazy Moroccan vibe, a Mariachi streak with an extra helping of red-hot, Vintage Victorian, and many others.
But lately, I've become friends with white as well as khaki and neutrals accented with black. (You may remember the story of the onset of my lunacy with white in last December's entry entitled, Pure As The Driven Snow.)
That's why when I looked out the window in the early morning that day, my heart skipped a beat when I spotted a sliver of fluttering white darting and dancing across the vining Virginia Creeper.
Do you remember I said white was my fav color?
It was a white butterfly.
I was fascinated because there were not a lot of these albino-like winged insects around. I could tell that it had just wakened to life after the sleep of darkness. Now, it was floating and moving in the air, flying upon the wings of its own spirit.
Some of my friends said that white signified death. Please tell me you don't believe that.
Oh, good. I don't either.
I saw purity, beauty, innocence, freedom, spiritual growth, and wisdom in that white butterfly. Remember Chrysalis? (Its parent movement is the UMC Walk to Emmaus, for those not in-the-know.)
It uplifted.
It affirmed.
Life is like a box of crayons.
With the lovely and, at the same time, furious red of emotions vying for primacy.
With the inky dark of a bleak night when it seems like there's nothing. Always nothing.
With the riotous motley hues of small things which, together, create great things.
With a golden sunrise that gives you the feeling of having just wakened from a spell that is meant to last forever.
And with the immaculate purity of a tomorrow that comes shining with purpose and miracles.
Such are life's colorful passages. It’s all in the shades and tint of the moment.
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