Happy Tuesday, My Friend!
It seems like yesterday it was June and I was in Wisconsin, and then today I woke up, and it’s the last full week of August. This is the last weekly letter I’m sending you before switching to a monthly schedule. Five whole years of writing weekly letters! I’m feeling emotional and a bit of pressure to knock one out of the park today. So where shall I begin?
Iguanas.
Yeah, you’re right. That is weird. But believe me, they are everywhere where I live. The other day I saw three (three!!) in our backyard. I could tell they were on the younger side, because they were bright green. Well, and smaller than their older siblings and parents. I’ve often noticed that iguanas come in different colors, seemingly depending on their age. When they’re young whippersnappers, they are that very bright green. They blend in with the grass and can be hard to see until they move their ugly heads, and then you notice them. Oh! I’m sorry! Did I call them ugly? That wasn’t very nice. But very true.
When they get a bit bigger and older, they turn a duller green and then gray. If they make it to “a certain age,” they can be quite orange! Those big orange dudes sure put the “creep” in “creepy.”
Funny how people and iguanas have something in common. We’re all vibrant and eye-catching in our youth, and fade as we get older. I’m not fond of the words used, though, to describe this change in appearance—dull, gray. You might be talking about (the roots of) my hair, but not my innards, thank you very much!
This all reminded me of a fellow music therapy student I knew in college at UWEC (go, go, go, go!). Not that she resembled an iguana. She could actually see colors around people. She could also hear colors, as odd as that sounds. It was a particularly useful gift as a music major. She could hear a note, an interval, a portion of a song, and know exactly what it was because she could identify it by its color. She aced all of our “aural music theory” classes, and all of the “drop the needle” tests. We’d have a whole semester’s worth of music to listen to and learn. Then, for the final exam, the professor would drop the needle onto one of the records (I know, I’m ancient), and we’d have to identify the name of the piece, the composer, and what movement it was. Whereas we ordinary kids had to cram tons of music into our brains so we could come up with: Symphony #3 in D Minor by Gustave Mahler, Fourth movement entitled Sehr Langsam – Misterioso and pray we got it right, she just had to tilt her ear to the turntable and see what color combo was “playing,” and voila—she had the correct answer!
I can remember lots of people asking her what color they were, according to her gift. I never did ask; I was afraid I’d be some color I didn’t like, and then what was I to do? I’ve later learned that this ability is called synesthesia, and people can have lots of different forms. I have another good friend who has number-form synesthesia, and she sees numbers in a certain place in space.
What in the world does this talk of iguanas and seeing color auras have to do with anything? I have been thinking about how, as we age, we seem to, on the outside, get a bit more “dull and gray,” but, man, on the inside, I sure feel a whole lot more colorful than I did as a younger person. I have lived through so many more experiences, each adding another color or hue to what I already had inside. I’ve had so many good things happen, so many blessings. And, of course, there have been difficult times as well. More colors added. I may be more drab on the outside these days, but I wonder what color my college friend would see now! I’d be brave enough to ask her now!
Because what I know for sure is this: our outer colors might soften with time, but every year, every lesson, every joy and heartbreak, adds another stroke to the masterpiece within. If you could see the inside, I think you’d find that our true colors grow only richer and more vibrant with every passing year. And that is something worth celebrating, no matter what shade our hair—or our skin, or our scales—might turn.
Written with love – – Patti XOXO
PS. Have a lovely September! I’ll write again on September 29!
“Life is a sea of vibrant color. Jump in.”
A.D. Posey