Snapshots of beauty lurk no matter where I reach in. Today it is yellow that fascinates. Tiny punchy pockets packing joy wherever I look.
Supposedly only 3% of the spectrum, yet …
sometimes blushing, sometimes flurried feathers, sometimes peeking out and sometimes bold with protectors of thorns, yellow bursts beauty into the world.
Yellow dots of dandelion flowers splashed across a suburban lawn might be a bit too messy for the civilized aesthetic, but where I walk the glorious — if minuscule — spread of yellow in all its forms is evidence of the miracle of passion.
Imagine life without the invention of yellow. How so very boring.
Trouble is, our culture advises against having too much passion; instead, pushing reason ahead of being unreasonable. Our traffic lights with their arrangement of colours where yellow signifies caution is all wrong. If nothing else, yellow is an invitation to a zestful life, not a warning to stop.
The Danger of Wisdom
We learn to live without passion.
To be reasonable. We go hungry
amid the giant granaries
this world is. We store up plenty
for when we are old and mild.
It is our strength that deprives us.
Like Keats listening to the doctor
who said the best thing for
tuberculosis was to eat only one
slice of bread and a fragment
of fish each day. Keats starved
himself to death because he yearned
so desperately to feast on Fanny Brawne.
Emerson and his wife decided to make
love sparingly in order to accumulate
his passion. We are taught to be
moderate. To live intelligently.