The color orange

Last night I dreamed that I had bought myself an orange dress and orange socks. They were as bright as the new Chicago Bears home uniform (which I don’t much like; I miss the midnight blue). 

Nevertheless, it was the only thing I could think of to wear. I was looking for the dress and socks but I couldn’t find them. I was soooo disappointed.

Apparently my soul is yearning for orange. Orange for me represents passion, fire, warmth, out-thereness—even brash exhibitionism. I see I chose a peachy shade of orange for this blog, where I write warmly, I think, and in an out-there way.

But I am not feeling much fire and spirit these days--more matronly and humdrum, more practical than mystic. Hence the dream: I couldn’t find that orange dress and socks.

Recently a friend reported dreaming my daughter, granddaughter, and me standing in a store window, dressed in reds and oranges. Where did that come from? It is true that my daughter loves orange both for herself and Hazel.

Joanna in orange before Hazel had any orange clothes

Hazel in orange, with lemon.

 

But I am not much of an orange person. My friend was dreaming an exhibit of spirit and passion in all of us that I’m not experiencing right now, but it may be potential. How might I get more orange into my life?

I will interrupt this writing to get ready go to church. I was waffling on church this morning. The Chicago church is usually more orange-spirited than the local one but it is many fossil-fuel miles away. I was thinking of staying at home and working on a grant proposal I’m doing for a friend but that does not feel at all orange. So I will go to local church and out to lunch somewhere with Vic and report back.

Later. So we walk into church and of course there is orange everywhere. The altar is draped in orange (tasteful rust, actually) with a cornucopia full of orange gourds and flowers. Shades of orange glow in the magnificent Tree of Life fabric art that permanently graces the apse. My friend Barbara sits in front of me in her brown and orange jacket. The preacher of the day wears an orange-striped tie. (The best I could do from my own wardrobe was an amber necklace.)

And I am moved by the service—the music, the sermon, the prayers, the brief conversations with new friends afterward. I had been set up, of course. I went reluctantly, puzzled, and with low expectations and, wouldn’t you know, Spirit shows up everywhere.

We have lunch in a Chinese restaurant decorated in red-orange, come home, and light an orange fire. Later we'll watch the Bears in their orange uniforms.