#a message?

Good evening, m’Lord! Sorry for coming unannounced. I brought some chocolate cupcakes!

But… actually, I was hoping to maybe ask you a question? Or… maybe a favor? But only if you have time, of course! I know you must be so busy…

hello, cat! good evening. thank you for the cupcakes.

I know both of my parents aren’t the best, but I do know my mom loves me. I still have no idea about daddy. Springer is really the best, and I know he cares. I used to want to be just like daddy when I grew up, but now I want to be more like Springer. 

So today is lughnasadh (harvest celebration) and I've been doing alot of research for this celebration and how it links to celtic traditions because I've recently decided to look into celtic heritage as it is part of me so I think it should be a part of my craft .

Anyway, so I was cycling today and came across a friendly field mouse that was very interested in me and snuggles up in my spare shirt (I thought it was hurt because it wasnt moving much so I checked it over) and I cant shake the feeling that a field mouse making itself known to me on lughnasadh is a sign that im on the right path for my craft.

Can anyone help me explain this feeling and the mouse etc?

Blue is a nice color.  It’s the color of the sea and the sky, surrounding us in endless lengths.

It is calm and dark and stormy rain, soft sadness fuzzing at the edges.

Red is the sharp, metallic color of blood.  It makes my vision blur and my heart beat faster, spreading out and corrupting everything it touches.

I don’t like my red side.  Anger or love, overtaking emotions that converge in rushes.

Green is soft grass and rustling leaves above my head when I lie flat on my back.  It’s springtime and the beginning of summer, the smell of nature.

It is meditation and holding hands, laughter getting ripped away on the wind.

Yellow mixes with gold, bright and cheerful, the sun shining down.  

Sometimes it’s too bright, bright enough that I have to squint, and even then it blinds me.  It’s too much for me at times, so I stop and look away.

I always go back to blue.

Pink is electric, the touch of skin against skin.  It makes my cheeks flush, happiness flooding through me after sad days.

They say pink is the color of love, but I think it’s more rose pink or soft magenta because bright pink is the lipstick girls put on and the dresses they wear, chatter and meaningless gossip.  I would want to be soft pink, not bright.  I don’t like bright things.

Orange is complicated.  It bleeds from red and yellow to something new, maybe a mix of the two.  Orange doesn’t belong to a category, not really, so I stay away from it.  It’s a lucky color, but luck has never worked for me.

Purple is confusing.  It’s polar opposites, and it’s me almost fully.  Anger and sadness, softness and sharpness.

A blurry outline of myself, like a smudged pencil drawing.  I like being purple, the different shades and ways to feel, but once again-

Back the blue side, back to blue side, back to blue side.

Or maybe you can’t define yourself by a color or a side, maybe we’re all smudged outlines of ourselves filled in with a million different pencils holding a million different secrets and colors until we are like the galaxy itself, shining stars in the darkness.  

Maybe we are not just ourselves, but the color of everyone we have touched.  Colors and sides we will never know, mixing and mingling.  Red side is not just anger, pink is not just love, yellow doesn’t always mean happiness.