We all have our blue moments
Life suddenly heavy, the world extraordinarily messy, our children, the success of last resort, briefly feral or blue themselves, poverty imminent, lumbago looming. Dangerously, the gloom has a sublime quality - a seductive wallow could follow.
How to own the blue days
Dale, my daughter, suggests meditation; my friend Karen, a glass of red; I know a walk is required. But my cheerlessness is serious when my heart whispers again and again, “Go on an adventure.”
I’m a lifelong runaway.
That’s when I need to keep away from Skyscanner and reconnect head, heart and hands; paint furniture or sew creatively. Which one I choose is immaterial; the initiated steps are a highway to the sky.
This time it's paint. So I set out for the Porter’s Paint Shop clutching an old tin. On the lid was written, ‘Aphrodite’.
Well, the staff said, Aphrodite was long gone, unremembered, the joke on me.
The flippant conviviality released a sentimental rush of affection for total strangers. Revived already, I left with a tin of Medieval Red. But on the way home, I mourned Aphrodite. Medieval Red conjured clanking armour and testosterone usurping the goddess of love, beauty and procreation. I spoke firmly to myself. This is therapy, you have to see it through.
I opened the tin and stirred and swirled, rousing a drop-dead gorgeous red that burbled up in slow, globby bubbles. Liberated, its exuberance eyed-me-up, bypassing my brain and rekindled my heart-fire while satisfying some vampire demon that wanted blood.
Red is the King of Colours
Red is not my favourite, but it is my dear, melodramatic friend, the one I’m drawn to, the crazy-maker, full of theatre and passion.
Love, sunrise and sunset, festivities and hearts and blood-bonds, red-roses, red-carpets and Chinese good luck. And it’s alter-ego, blood and guts, slaughter, danger, fire and brimstone, is as fundamental as blue days are to calm days, crazy happy days, contented days and fun days.
So I am still here and know if the going gets tougher, and stirring paint doesn’t cut it, I can still take off on the
big red kangaroo.
I didn’t even need to wet my brush, but put the lid back on the tin and underneath Medieval Red, I wrote
Aphrodite Mark II.