These are the Sacred Colors

It is rare that I get a song delivered to me in a dream, complete with melody. Well, to be more accurate, I’d say it’s a chant. In my dream I knelt in front of a low wooden table and held an orange and black hair tie (at least, that’s what it looked like to me). It consisted of a circle woven of black and orange cloth, topped with a beautiful orange cloth rose. I grasped the circle with flower, raised up my arms, and sang:

These are the sacred colors,
these are the colors sacred.
They decorate my altar
as each season changes.

This is a little less clear, but I think I was also wearing orange and black in the dream. I knew exactly why the colors were sacred, what they meant. They represented sunlight and its absence, earth and sky, life and death, enlightenment and the void of ignorance.

I woke up thinking of my love of colors, of wearing certain colors — especially during the holidays. I had the idea that the most sacred color for New Year’s Day would be white — the color of new beginnings, of clean slates, of innocence original and reclaimed.

Perhaps I will wear white tomorrow. Tonight, I have yet to decide what to wear. I had plans to go out, and I woke up not only with a mind filled with images from my dream, but also with a headache and a sore throat. Whether or not I go out tonight and tomorrow, I will honor the message of my dream. When I intuit between the lines, I think the deeper message is this:

The sacred is in every moment, in every mote of dust, in everything that ever was or will ever be. Live sacredly. Honor your life and all that it contains.

And I say, what better time to begin than on the Eve of the New Year? My spider sense tells me 2008 is going to be an amazing year.

As always, thanks for reading. Happy and Sacred New Year to you.

~Love and Blessings,
Selene~

‘Tis the Season. . .

. . .to feel sad and blue. Well, at least blue is a holiday color — or can be in the right tint. This time of the year I miss my family, most of whom no longer speak to me. Regardless of that, I still love and miss them terribly.

I’m certain they think of me as the black sheep. Yet who says a black sheep is a bad thing? For my part, I always loved black sheep. They’re so beautiful, the way they stand out from the herd. They look even softer to me than the other sheep, more touchable. And yes, I am different from the rest of my family, which is really what the black sheep metaphor is all about, right?

It’s a primal thing, this fear of standing out in the crowd, of being recognized as different. I accept who I am, embrace who I am. I am learning to have pride in my differences, and even to flaunt them. All of which separates me more and more from my family.

I feel this is the year, finally, to let them go. They dropped me like a hot rock over 10 years ago. Time for me to stop trying to save them. I’ll always love them, and I need to release them. For their sake, and for my own.

This year, I give myself the gift of sanity. I will stop doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. I will stop yearning after a family who no longer want me.

~Peace, Joy, Blessings, and Love,
Selene~