White Heaven

I'm a girl who loves color-- big, bright, blues and greens and yellows.  I wear it, I decorate with it.  I seek it out in all things.  I guess that's the photographer in me coming out.

But today, I'm grooving on white.  White of my gently purring cat's fur, as she snuggles beside me.  White of the cool, crisp sheets.  White of the sunshine fresh comforter.  The gentle white light of the sun that's pouring in over me--and changing my world.  The quiet, uimposing, white noise of the fan.  The memory of the brilliant and lovely white snow that we saw earlier this week.

White demands nothing of you.  White has no agenda to make you feel a certain way-- unlike the cool blues and hot reds that try to pull you along.  White just lets you crawl in, and cuddle up, or hunker down.  And gently puts you back together until you're ready for the energy of a few bursts of color.  White lets you imagine, to paint your own picture of lovely-- to believe that something, anything, is pure and good, if only for a little while.

Certainly it sounds trite and preacherish--but there is a sense of the holy washing over me.  A white holy that meets me where I am, and holds me til I can offer something back.

It's white heaven, here between the clean, crisp sheets and the sunshine infused comforter.  Even the cat knows.