The white beings in nature have been calling me in, drawing me closer to look …
To open my heart to what is truly there.
Crocus.
Lotus.
Snowberry.
Chrysanthemum.
Tulip.
Daisy.
Trillium.
Pear blossom.
Dandelion.
Snowdrop.
Lily.
The aging spike on a pink quill plant.
Bald eagle head feathers, sunlight on water, the leading edge of a raindrop.
Threads of clouds across a blue or gray or black backdrop of sky.
The stigma gracing the inside of countless varieties of flower.
I think to myself, white. But looking closer in appreciation or in my effort to sketch more accurately, I see every color inside these natural forms we call “white.”
Pink.
Blue.
Every shade of gray.
Light green.
Yellow, bold or pale.
Sometimes even a spot of crimson.
Gold, peach, beige.
Lavender.
And it’s the same with other colors in the natural world too. “Green.” Green? But is it emerald or melon or teal or lime or olive or mint or sage? Is it reminiscent of a forest or tropical plants or the sea? A lawn, moss, or ferns? Is it green buds, and if so, of whom – the leaf or flower of which particular being?
White is not a color, the color theorists say. I say, let’s look more carefully. More attentively. Perhaps even in open reverence to what might emerge as we gaze and tend to all those nonhuman beings around us we casually refer to as “white” …
In their wholeness, their fullness, the colors we see are a joyous kaleidoscope of beauty if we allow ourselves the gift of deep communion.
