when i'm pondering colors

a micro-essay

Today is the first day in 5 months where I could sit on my couch and look out the window. I feel sad. It’s the kind of sad that doesn’t care about where the tear ducts are. This sadness doesn’t want to live in the sinuses, instead it puts pressure on the cheek bones and inflates the nostrils. It’s the perfect kind of sad for looking out the window and pondering colors. Blue. Yellow. Orange. Green. Call me Baby Suggs as I contemplate the hues and their gentle hubris.

from CumbelembeCaluasse on Pinterest

I’ve been on my feet a lot lately. Planning. Organizing. Speaking. Mothering. I understand my role in the madness of everyday living in this political era. I’m walking with my steps in order. I am a conductor guiding the orchestra in a melody of hope. I’m not the only one. So many organizers and leaders contribute to the melody. I’m so proud of us who chose to not give up. Who choose to move forward and remain in motion. Right now, I’m not in motion. I’m looking out the window and calling l back all the sadness I shook off in that constant state of movement.

I used to think hope was a happy effort. I thought I had to make things fun and exciting to breathe life into collective despair. I was trying too hard. I ignored myself. I didn’t listen to what I needed and assumed what the people needed. They needed happiness and positivity (or so I thought). But happiness isn’t the whole of humanity. And what good is that anyway? Movements don’t succeed on imitation.

I spent the majority of Black History Month asking myself what joy means to me, because I refused to accept despair as my daily portion. I still don’t have an answer. I thought joy was uninterrupted happiness, but I am so sad. And yet.

I’m still lying down and looking out my window. I’m pondering colors. Trees dance in the wind. Birds sing their evening prayers. The sky looks like tomorrow scratches gently at the surface. Rain clouds look like they’re ready to wash away the sins that keep me from seeing the mountain tops. That’s a whole portion of joy for me.