“Nature always wears the colors of the spirit.” (Ralph Waldo Emerson)

I’ve recently led two discussions about color, how, when, where, and why they appear. This conversation was initially inspired by a friend who remarked that colors are a “God gift.” I agreed but then wondered if colors matter. Another dear friend sees a sunset as “orange on the edge of the day.” What would the world be like if we didn’t see it in color? Are the colors we believe we see merely our reality of the moment? Are they a piece of our spiritual journey?

When first meditating on my quest for further inspiration, I was led to Emerson. I discovered he penned similar thoughts long before I knew who Emerson was and even longer before I was giving the idea of color much thought.

The opening quote from Emerson means souls see colors based on where they are on their spiritual journey and what their experience is at the time. Everything and everyone is made of frequencies, including colors. It makes sense, then, that as our frequency and the frequencies of everything around us change, we are inclined to have different interpretations of our world at different moments, including our interaction with colors.

There are numerous natural examples where we see one color as another. Blue jays, for instance, are not blue. They are grayish brown. Sometimes I look out the window and see this as true; other times, I see them as a brilliant blue. A found blue jay feather last night looked like a radiant blue, but on my kitchen table this morning, it looked distinctly like a gray feather with a prominent white tip.

Emerson thought that the interpretation of nature should be left up to the individual as they look to their personal understanding. Emerson’s thoughts have coincided with my own in referring to nature as all that is in the universe. This closely ties to my thoughts that we see colors depending on where we are on our spiritual journey.

It’s no different than many other aspects of life. I look at a bouquet of flowers that others would feel are past their prime, but I see the beauty in their dying as they transition. As a caregiver advocate who has sat by the side of several deathbeds, this vision carries over. It continues the perspective that I developed in childhood.

Colors speak to us in ways that may be bold or barely imperceptible. I often dream in white but occasionally in colors. Such was the case the other night when in my dream, I was gifting someone a transparent pink box. The color pink referred to love. Inside were malted milk balls. As I held the box forward and lifted the lid, someone close to me in the dream said, “Those are only malted milk balls.” I replied, “They represent treats of the heart when it is open to receiving.” This is the true gift of color, the messages we receive that we otherwise ignore or miss.

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