Two of the people I love most share favorite colors of white and palest pink. Maybe it is because they are both youngest daughters of their families. Perhaps it’s the appeal of purity, innocence, ballet shoe colors of satin ribbons and grace. They embody the compassion of those sweet colors in the ways they are kind to others.
White comes in many shades, as we know from interior designers and paint chip colors and well, light. Cool blue twilight white, crystalline snow in sunshine white, creamery butter white of magnolias and gardenia, and the soft true white of cotton on prickly dried stalks. White illuminates hope just as startling as dogwood blossoms shining out between endless trunks in a forest of brown and gray bark.
I’ve always admired confident wearers of crisp white shirts. My favorite Irish linen tablecloth was once white, but no amount of bleach can restore its former patina. White touches childhood memories of the first pair of summer jeans, close-up smiles, and the braided rope bracelets we slipped on our wrists to measure our tans as we began vacation.
White is a measure of contrast, an egret silhouetted against brackish water, a blank page, the tone of light, and the sum of all colors. It requires every color to merge; it defies consciousness and defines perception.
Pink is a color made from other shades including a LOT of white. It feels sensitive, vulnerable, soft, and so tender. Thin skinned places where life-blood flows.
Nature blends white with pale pink in exquisite poetry: a kitten’s delicate nose, snowy cherry blossoms blushed ever so slightly with more concentrated pink centers, wild honeysuckle scenting summer’s end. They share awe and restraint.
The pairing of these two colors pigments sensitivity. Softly they remind me of fleeting life blooming, glowing, and passing. “Immerse within my peace” they say, “you will never regret the times when you are gentle.”
Nature seems to favor these two colors together, as if to model the quiet beauty Earth also craves. When the mimosa bursts into spiky clouds of exotic flowers, the whole tree softens the hot August landscape. As I am neither photographer nor painter, I wonder how I might pay tribute. I collect a single blossom, place it in a pleasingly squat pink vase, and pair it with rose quartz to make a temporary altar. That’s all we can do, isn’t it? Capture by appreciation.
“We write to taste life twice…” Anais Nin
In the novel I have been writing* I imagine that color focuses attention to help us contemplate and fully appreciate the gift of living. It is now on its third rewrite. To paraphrase Gandhi, it’s not important how large or small these efforts are, or how insignificant they may seem, but it is important that we do them.
* Secret of Color is part one of the Earth Family Trust series by PollyAnya scheduled to be shared someday soon 🙂 ∞ ♥
Such lovely and evocative words and pictures!
Thank you.