There’s a storm rolling in, and the last bit of color is draining from the sky because storms eat color. They do. They sneak in like thieves in the night, or even the day, and one by one they remove each color and replace it with gray. They have a voracious appetite. The more color they eat, the more they want. Eat, eat, eat! They turn the world into a gray, cold, drizzling place.
If you go outside when the colors
have been stolen, you will feel the fingers of the storm reaching out for
you. They will try to get inside your
mind and steal the colors from there as well.
Storms are very stealthy. Like
ninjas, they sneak into your mind and drain your memory of brighter days. They sneak into your heart and assassinate
your joy. When a storm settles over your
head, you enter a world of sorrow. There
you dwell in grayness until the storm subsides, completely at its mercy, helpless
and hopeless.
Unless you don’t see the gray. It is true that your colors will be gone for
a while--that you cannot deny. But if
instead of gray you choose to see silver, the whole meaning of the storm
changes. The storm comes in and purges
all the old and worn out thoughts and ideas. Then with joyous
anticipation and a sky full of the finest silver, you purchase brand new silks
of every imaginable color. You drape
them from the trees, hang them like a canopy, then settle down in a bed of
feather-soft silks, secure in the unlimited wealth of your silvery imagination.
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| A storm rolls in from the ocean. |
