This blanket makes me angry. It hasn’t done anything to me, there are no hidden agendas hiding in the scrollwork. But if you put a bloodpressure cuff on me and made me stare at this picture, you could watch it tick upward. Why? I’m affected by color. And apparently I really hate old-gold. The burgundy is a bit better, but only a bit – I’ll admit to being marginally more irritable in its presence, but it doesn’t upset me like the old-gold does.
I’m sensitive to the emotional effects of color. Everyone is affected by color, but I’m the canary in the coal mine. This has its drawbacks! It also has its blessings – after all, I had an image consulting business. I *get* color. I love color and I can get lost in the perfect shade of yellow (the color that gingko leaves turn in the fall) or the translucent layered blues in a wave. The world, for me, is full of inexpressible pleasure… if only I will take the time to look at it.
I thought everyone was like me, until I started talking about it… and started meeting blank looks. I didn’t realize that this sensitivity was part of my individuality.
So, why does this matter? It matters because if we are to travel forward, we must start appreciating the individual sensitivities and gifts that we each have. There is a tendency among humans to expect others to think, see, and want the same things. Even though we know there are a myriad missions in our world to take on, yet there is something in the belly that makes us want to make others like self. Make others take on our exact missions – not the meta mission, no – but the exact mission.
Yes. I am going to be me, and I am going to fall recklessly in love with jade green, seaglass, and the perfect true red-red. I pledge to bring this love to you and show you, to the best of my ability, the wonder that I see. I will help you pick the colors for your new dress, your new office, your new drapes. Color intoxicates me, it is a pleasure to assist.
But that doesn’t get the road paved. It doesn’t get necessary, meticulous tasks done (ask my boss – she’ll tell you how I try, and fail, at anything finicky). It doesn’t weed the garden (ask my husband). And yet, it is a gift.
We are meant to fit together like a mosaic, one bit and another, none exactly alike, all together telling the story – all together getting the missions achieved. Our individuality, our sensitivities, our gifts are meant to be used in concert. To be fully ourselves, to let our oddities be seen, even if that means that the ugly blanket gets turned into a dog bed and we feel a bit guilty about the expense… well, that’s just part of life. We must be ourselves to serve God and to serve one another. No cookie cutters, no simplistic answers… we must be as we were created.
Oh, and I’ll probably never re-read this blog, because then I’d have to look at that blanket! 🙂