In Living Color
When we finally awaken, we will see the world (as it truly is) for the first time.
When I was a kid, I asked my father (who was born in the mid-1950s) the sort of question that children do:
“Dad, when you were growing up, your TV was in black and white. Right?”
“Yes.”
“So, I’m wondering, was the sky also black and white when you were little?”
Silly question, right? But maybe I was onto something.
I should mention that I’m color blind. Luckily, I have a milder form of it. However, there are rare cases of Achromatopsia (or rod monochromacy), where the individual can only see in black, white and shades of gray.
In a way, we are all born and live with this affliction.
We see life in black or white, this or that.
We see what we want to see. We don’t see that which we want (or need) to ignore.
Our vision is limited.
Until we awaken.
In the 1930s, Hollywood ushered in the greatest time in cinema history. The days of black & white films were shifting to the rear view mirror, and Technicolor entered stage left.
For my money, no movie encapsulates the transition from B&W to full Technicolor more beautifully than The Wizard of Oz in this scene:
We live in color, but do we see in it?
How can we leave the black and white, Kansas farm behind, and transition to our new, vivid life? A life that was always there?
NOTICE
When I walk Simba, every time he pauses to pee or smell the area, I take it as an opportunity to observe a small detail:
An ant carrying a leaf.
The cool air refreshing my body.
A conversation between passersby.
In short, every moment is an opportunity to notice. To sit with everything as it is.
ENGAGE
While on these walks, I sometimes find a beetle, spider or bee on its back in distress. Feeling a call to save, I help the little insect to flip around.
When the cool air blows, I embrace the sensation for a moment, and then I consider moving to the sunnier side of the street.
When people are in conversation as they pass me, I may chuckle at what they’re saying. I may even respond to them or simply make eye contact. It’s a moment to see humans being human, and to be human with them.
DO IT AGAIN
To the best of my abilities, when I identify a practice or routine that fills me, I attempt to make it a habit. Little by little, day by day, the daily commitment compounds. You see progress. You feel better.
The more progress you make, the better you feel. The better you feel, the more you notice the minute changes in your world.
In short, as with all my posts, there is no magic bullet. There are no 3-D, colorized glasses that I can sell you in order to truly experience life in all of its wonder and glory.
Instead, it’s a commitment to being present every day. You dedicate yourself to being right here, right now.
Importantly, it is a choice.
In fact, some may say, “I think it’s great that you can see in color. But I can’t.” Or “this is how I was raised. These are the colors that I see. That’s good enough for me.” Or “I already see the full spectrum of light” — even if they can’t.
We can limit ourselves, for sure. I would argue that we’re very good at that. We have mastered how to place ceilings on ourselves.
Yet, this post is an invitation to slow down. To revisit the impulse to close yourself off. To say, “maybe today I take a different approach.”
There will always be a Mr. Johnson in your life:
“I’ll never be able to do that.”
“Where am I going to see colors like that.”
“Must be awful lucky to see colors like that. I’ll bet they don’t know how lucky they are.”
This scene is astounding.
He sees the works of titans. Rembrandt. Van Gogh. Monet.
They’re so lucky, he says. But not him. He can only see in black and white.
That is, until he — and you and I — make the commitment to live fully.
To live openly. To live truly. To suck out all the marrow of life.
It is a choice:
Stay in the comfort of yesteryear, and see the black and white world as you know it.
Or dare to see life through a new lens.