Shades.
Hue, value and chroma. Cameramen and home decor experts aren't the only ones who have managed to derive benefit from Munsell's system.
No, I think that our insides are coloured. Blue, yellow and browns. We meet people, shake hands, laugh at their jokes, they see through our barriers to our colour, we see theirs. We sing along while letting our windshield down, eat ice cream and french fries, hot chocolate and buttered toast. Work and complain, take care of them when they fall sick, go between various spectrums. Switch off the light when they want to sleep, squinting at the keyboard, content in the other's comfort. Cry when we're overwhelmed, giggle when we're comforted. Tuck ourselves in, letting the hue become constant.
Years may pass you by, at any time if you feel something is, due to lack of any better word, un-matched, you look around confused for a second. But then you remember how cozy you felt and it disappears as so many things do, when you think of them as "Just in my head". I tend to lose my point while writing, but I'll stagger right back to it after a few more paragraphs. Anyhow it goes on, you feel a subsurface wave of disconnectedness every now and then. Life's tensions pile up, and you go through each of them hoping to emerge through somehow, but keeping your chin up everyday takes its toll. As you crumble, the shoulder beneath your head shape shifts. you watch it fly and morph into a finger asking you to quiet down and move on. You find it a comforting and gentle reminder you needed, to get up. So you do, wash your face and hold the finger that was once a shoulder. Is this starting to get all sci fi mutant yet? Well, blame my eccentric imagination. This is why Bloomsbury would never publish me.
As much as you appreciated the prod to get up, to improve- you miss the cuddly shoulder. So you set on and decide to rebuild it. Cups of tea, music, a feel good book, some more music, dancing by yourself for hours, oh how it rejuvenates you! You're convinced you've found the answer, it all seems to work out so well. Life's bad times finally pass, you're looking forward, ready to go home to the those you love.
Eagerly waiting to meet them, you subconsciously travel back in time. The ice creams, giggles, tears and hugs race through your mind, you return to your constant. Your hue.
As you radiate your colour brighter and brighter, you realize the un-matchedness gain a momentum so loud, its almost as if someone is telling you "Are you always that one hue?"
Oh wait, they are.
Waiting for an answer to pop into your head, you panic and peep inside, still seeing the offending hue shining through your skin in horror and you ask for some time to mix it up and see what other hues you can find in you. After all, we're infinite. Aren't we?
And so you try pink and yellow and green and mauve. A shoe size too big may describe how you feel, but you must try. Try all that the palate has to offer.
And then one day, you want your hue back. And the cuddly shoulder too. And so you do everything in your capacity, even if it makes you a gluey addition to someone's life, to get everything back. But of course you can't. And no longer do the cups of tea and music wafting through your ears make a difference. Nothing does. You've lost the capability to be your own cuddly shoulder. And the one that you thought you'll always have to lean on, its got to be on its own for a while or maybe you cant force your head onto someone's shoulder because there's always this tensed bicep thats waiting to get out the moment you fall asleep.
Maybe you can change your hue, maybe you can't. It might feel like its the wrong one. Yet its yours. And as much as you'd like to make it better, sometimes you like your hue, whatever it may signify. So what do you do?
Do you make it better, or do you keep your hue?
It doesn't matter. Because love is all encompassing. And it doesn't care about hues and value and chroma and formulas. So forget the shoulder and get out of the house, grab your love by the arm and dance to John Legend. Forget the end and the beginning. Let whatever wants to come out of you radiate through with no barriers. And the finger shoulder mutant will lead you on, into the light.
Hue, value and chroma. Cameramen and home decor experts aren't the only ones who have managed to derive benefit from Munsell's system.
No, I think that our insides are coloured. Blue, yellow and browns. We meet people, shake hands, laugh at their jokes, they see through our barriers to our colour, we see theirs. We sing along while letting our windshield down, eat ice cream and french fries, hot chocolate and buttered toast. Work and complain, take care of them when they fall sick, go between various spectrums. Switch off the light when they want to sleep, squinting at the keyboard, content in the other's comfort. Cry when we're overwhelmed, giggle when we're comforted. Tuck ourselves in, letting the hue become constant.
Years may pass you by, at any time if you feel something is, due to lack of any better word, un-matched, you look around confused for a second. But then you remember how cozy you felt and it disappears as so many things do, when you think of them as "Just in my head". I tend to lose my point while writing, but I'll stagger right back to it after a few more paragraphs. Anyhow it goes on, you feel a subsurface wave of disconnectedness every now and then. Life's tensions pile up, and you go through each of them hoping to emerge through somehow, but keeping your chin up everyday takes its toll. As you crumble, the shoulder beneath your head shape shifts. you watch it fly and morph into a finger asking you to quiet down and move on. You find it a comforting and gentle reminder you needed, to get up. So you do, wash your face and hold the finger that was once a shoulder. Is this starting to get all sci fi mutant yet? Well, blame my eccentric imagination. This is why Bloomsbury would never publish me.
As much as you appreciated the prod to get up, to improve- you miss the cuddly shoulder. So you set on and decide to rebuild it. Cups of tea, music, a feel good book, some more music, dancing by yourself for hours, oh how it rejuvenates you! You're convinced you've found the answer, it all seems to work out so well. Life's bad times finally pass, you're looking forward, ready to go home to the those you love.
Eagerly waiting to meet them, you subconsciously travel back in time. The ice creams, giggles, tears and hugs race through your mind, you return to your constant. Your hue.
As you radiate your colour brighter and brighter, you realize the un-matchedness gain a momentum so loud, its almost as if someone is telling you "Are you always that one hue?"
Oh wait, they are.
Waiting for an answer to pop into your head, you panic and peep inside, still seeing the offending hue shining through your skin in horror and you ask for some time to mix it up and see what other hues you can find in you. After all, we're infinite. Aren't we?
And so you try pink and yellow and green and mauve. A shoe size too big may describe how you feel, but you must try. Try all that the palate has to offer.
And then one day, you want your hue back. And the cuddly shoulder too. And so you do everything in your capacity, even if it makes you a gluey addition to someone's life, to get everything back. But of course you can't. And no longer do the cups of tea and music wafting through your ears make a difference. Nothing does. You've lost the capability to be your own cuddly shoulder. And the one that you thought you'll always have to lean on, its got to be on its own for a while or maybe you cant force your head onto someone's shoulder because there's always this tensed bicep thats waiting to get out the moment you fall asleep.
Maybe you can change your hue, maybe you can't. It might feel like its the wrong one. Yet its yours. And as much as you'd like to make it better, sometimes you like your hue, whatever it may signify. So what do you do?
Do you make it better, or do you keep your hue?
It doesn't matter. Because love is all encompassing. And it doesn't care about hues and value and chroma and formulas. So forget the shoulder and get out of the house, grab your love by the arm and dance to John Legend. Forget the end and the beginning. Let whatever wants to come out of you radiate through with no barriers. And the finger shoulder mutant will lead you on, into the light.
