A Sweet Life
I have put the Longaevi to bed, and braided my hair. The room is clean, cool, comfortable, haunted with music and little breezes. On a night like this, I can imagine that I am home. In my mind I am straying through the woods beyond our house, or sitting for an hour beside the stream, fascinated by the play of light on water.
On a night like this, I am back in the soft blue-rose shadows of my own room, sitting perhaps at the mahogany desk with secret drawers in it, or in front of my mirror at the vanity table, with candles on either side of a dark oval frame, and brass gleaming in the soft light. My bed's headboard belonged to my great-grandmother, and so did my chest of drawers. Everything is dark wood, rich and glowing, with shades of red sifted through the velvety brown. Russet wood and red-brown leather always seem to me to signify the deepest things of life, the very heartbeat of being.
Three colors, three specific shades, matter to me above all others. The first is blue: that particular blue that comes only at twilight in October, or in the morning in April, or in June at midnight. It is a color sometimes met with in the sea, rarely in cloth. This blue means to me "tenderness" and "belonging" and "intellegere." It is the color that I associate with God the Father, and with my own father.
The second is red-brown, this velvet depth and complex shading of vividness veiled in quieter strength. Red has always frightened me just a little--it is such a bold color. It is a color that says "I desire." Brown is the color of faithfulness, of abiding strength, of honesty, I think. Red-brown means to me "faithful love," a love that will sacrifice and stand firm and exist always, that will demand my whole soul, my heart, my life. But it will also give all for me. This is the color that I associate with God the Son, my Savior and Beloved.
The third color is green. Mama has green eyes, and so does Mike, and so do Marjorie and Charity. Green is life to me; it is wit and spark and vivere and the forest, my beloved forests of the Virginian hills, or the forests of the western mountains. But ever since I was a little girl, there has been one shade of green that matters most--I mean the one that is mingled with gold. Green-gold was the eye color that I chose for favorite characters in my stories as a teenager. It is the color of the sun on a streambed, all shimmer and warmth. It is the color that causes me to feel overwhelmingly alive, ready to do and be and laugh and dance. It is the color, to me, of the Holy Spirit and the New Jerusalem.
Oh yes, colors matter to me. Not fifty yards away I can see one of our campus lamps shining. It is my pretend that those lamps are warm-voiced spirits, angels, who keep watch over us while we sleep. Frequently, walking back and forth behind Dorm 5 at night, I will pause beside a particular lamp which is low enough for me to touch, and cup my hands around the glow, and look across at the pond, and be still for a few moments. I love the Psalm that speaks of longing for God as a watchman longs for the morning. I feel that I am always longing after colors, after light, as the watchman longs for the color and light of dawn. They are to me the sign of God's presence and love--darkness makes me afraid.
Whatever my sorrows, however discouraging my sins, no matter what it is that brings me pain, I have never known a morning without the sun. I have never known a day without light. I have never been left in an eternal, cold, and angry darkness. Night is not one eternal sleeping, though Catullus thought it was. How frightened he must have been, to think that this brief day as a blade of grass was all he had, all there would every be. Nevertheless he was right to say, "Let us live, let us love." Let us live indeed, live for God, and live for always because he has given us eternal life. Let us love indeed, love the Christ, and love always because he first loved us.
O Trinity, you are blue and red-brown and green to me. You are every color; you are white; you are light! You have loved me, a wretched rebellious girl who is here today and tomorrow will not be, and yet will be, because I will be caught up to you through your salvation. You are my holy sweetness, and I say with Augustine that I cannot describe you or praise you or tell your beauty and goodness and love as you deserve... as you will always deserve, for you are the Being in whom every excellence meets... but that I must try, for all my life, with all the ability that you give me.
It is a sweet life, my Lord. It is a great gladness to live glorifying you, enjoying you, at rest in you, for whom my restless heart was made. You alone satisfy. Tu solum. Da mi, Domine, videre te ut es, te amare... te amo, Christus. Oh, te amo! Tu es vis meae vitae, et tu es cum me aeternum.
On a night like this, I am back in the soft blue-rose shadows of my own room, sitting perhaps at the mahogany desk with secret drawers in it, or in front of my mirror at the vanity table, with candles on either side of a dark oval frame, and brass gleaming in the soft light. My bed's headboard belonged to my great-grandmother, and so did my chest of drawers. Everything is dark wood, rich and glowing, with shades of red sifted through the velvety brown. Russet wood and red-brown leather always seem to me to signify the deepest things of life, the very heartbeat of being.
Three colors, three specific shades, matter to me above all others. The first is blue: that particular blue that comes only at twilight in October, or in the morning in April, or in June at midnight. It is a color sometimes met with in the sea, rarely in cloth. This blue means to me "tenderness" and "belonging" and "intellegere." It is the color that I associate with God the Father, and with my own father.
The second is red-brown, this velvet depth and complex shading of vividness veiled in quieter strength. Red has always frightened me just a little--it is such a bold color. It is a color that says "I desire." Brown is the color of faithfulness, of abiding strength, of honesty, I think. Red-brown means to me "faithful love," a love that will sacrifice and stand firm and exist always, that will demand my whole soul, my heart, my life. But it will also give all for me. This is the color that I associate with God the Son, my Savior and Beloved.
The third color is green. Mama has green eyes, and so does Mike, and so do Marjorie and Charity. Green is life to me; it is wit and spark and vivere and the forest, my beloved forests of the Virginian hills, or the forests of the western mountains. But ever since I was a little girl, there has been one shade of green that matters most--I mean the one that is mingled with gold. Green-gold was the eye color that I chose for favorite characters in my stories as a teenager. It is the color of the sun on a streambed, all shimmer and warmth. It is the color that causes me to feel overwhelmingly alive, ready to do and be and laugh and dance. It is the color, to me, of the Holy Spirit and the New Jerusalem.
Oh yes, colors matter to me. Not fifty yards away I can see one of our campus lamps shining. It is my pretend that those lamps are warm-voiced spirits, angels, who keep watch over us while we sleep. Frequently, walking back and forth behind Dorm 5 at night, I will pause beside a particular lamp which is low enough for me to touch, and cup my hands around the glow, and look across at the pond, and be still for a few moments. I love the Psalm that speaks of longing for God as a watchman longs for the morning. I feel that I am always longing after colors, after light, as the watchman longs for the color and light of dawn. They are to me the sign of God's presence and love--darkness makes me afraid.
Whatever my sorrows, however discouraging my sins, no matter what it is that brings me pain, I have never known a morning without the sun. I have never known a day without light. I have never been left in an eternal, cold, and angry darkness. Night is not one eternal sleeping, though Catullus thought it was. How frightened he must have been, to think that this brief day as a blade of grass was all he had, all there would every be. Nevertheless he was right to say, "Let us live, let us love." Let us live indeed, live for God, and live for always because he has given us eternal life. Let us love indeed, love the Christ, and love always because he first loved us.
O Trinity, you are blue and red-brown and green to me. You are every color; you are white; you are light! You have loved me, a wretched rebellious girl who is here today and tomorrow will not be, and yet will be, because I will be caught up to you through your salvation. You are my holy sweetness, and I say with Augustine that I cannot describe you or praise you or tell your beauty and goodness and love as you deserve... as you will always deserve, for you are the Being in whom every excellence meets... but that I must try, for all my life, with all the ability that you give me.
It is a sweet life, my Lord. It is a great gladness to live glorifying you, enjoying you, at rest in you, for whom my restless heart was made. You alone satisfy. Tu solum. Da mi, Domine, videre te ut es, te amare... te amo, Christus. Oh, te amo! Tu es vis meae vitae, et tu es cum me aeternum.
posted by Praelucor at 8:44 PM
1 Comments:
I too love color.
Red is bold, passionate, cheerful, dignified, wholehearted. I like the darker, firmer reds better than the bright, shallow ones; they are the shades of garnets and the better rubies, of ripe strawberries and good Christmas ornaments (not the cheap, gaudy plastic ones). Red is a color which lifts its chin and smiles at you--and draws you in and you almost cry for joy. No, it is not a color for the faint of heart, but remember, perfect love casts out fear.
Pastel pink is a color which sits with its ankles crossed and smiles demurely, then jumps up and dances through a field, preferably to pick flowers. It's the sort of color which approves of tea parties and naps in sunbeams.
And what shall I say of the other colors, of misty greens that Ireland would protect fiercely and the black and white of a snow day, and of that particular shade of purple which indicates a wearer in a mischievous mood who must be watched out for? What of summer creamy yellows and warmer pumpkiny oranges, of adobe brown and the blue of Lake Bob in the spring?
Truly,
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