True Colours

I once bought a cyanathus shrub that had a picture of what it would look like when colours1flowering on the price tag. It showed a deep indigo blue like this one from my garden now, but when it flowered it was a pale almost grey-blue and I was most disappointed. I felt tricked because I was specifically wanting this colour in my garden. This deep indigo blue is what I see when I am experiencing deep passionate love or waves of joy. It also follows that when I see this colour, regardless of what my thoughts were at the time of seeing it, I experience a wave of that emotion. It’s a form of synaesthesia and is a co-morbid (I prefer the term co-existing as there’s absolutely nothing morbid about it) condition of autism and my super-sensitive brain. I have an unusual relationship with colour and the spectrum I both see and feel seems to be far more expansive than most people encounter.

Synaesthesia is a condition where multiple senses become involved when processing information. The variations of this are numerable, and my particular variety leaves me deliciously unable to separate colour from emotion.  As a species we are rooted in this multi sensory reaction to stimuli – all children have it to some degree while the brain is still developing and it forms the basis of many words in our language. You undoubtedly know what I mean if I tell you my mood is blue, or I was so angry that I saw red, but for 95% of the population, the senses do little more than what is required of them by adulthood. Seeing red is a metaphor for most and not literal like it is for me. Genetics and the way we live today have dulled the senses so that all too often, we cease to have an emotional response. Might this be because sensitivity is often perceived as weakness? Society wants us to all behave the same way, have the same responses and be predictable. Predictable sameness is easier to control. Differences are not welcomed and diversity is feared. It’s why so many people bully the weird kid or think refugees are bad. We do not embrace diversity but instead ridicule, troll and bully those who are different. Having been shunned by neuro-typicals all my life, I feel this like the colour of forget-me-nots. Sadness is indeed blue.

Having tried for so very long to hide my sensitivities (there are so many!) in a bid to ‘fit in’ I can now say with absolute authority that it is quite the opposite of weakness to express them and is actually an act of courage to be openly sensitive in the world in which we live. How messed up is that? Surely we should be celebrating the more sensitive individuals who experience the world so very differently to the rest? These people literally open our eyes, our ears and our hearts to a different version of what we think is real. Think about Greta Thunburg or Chris Packham and all the good work they do trying to save the planet and our wildlife. And then read how the haters have trolled them. Chris has had death threats and dead crows hung on his gate. The ugly ableist comments on Greta’s pages make it hard for me to feel love towards the haters. Far right upper class toffs have resorted to bullying an autistic sixteen year old girl rather than get behind the truth. She must be quite the threat to them.

A post was doing the rounds on Facebook earlier where Greta is quoted as saying her Autism is her super-power. She wields the sword of truth like a super-hero yet is hated for it; a modern day Messiah being crucified by social media? And yet, there is hope. She has been nominated for the nobel peace prize. And today MPs voted to declare a climate emergency. It seems the ‘different’ people are standing up and telling the truth. The hippies and outcasts are getting organised. Extinction Rebellion is making change happen. We are making change happen. I hope the numbers that support the changes that need to happen to make the world a better place far outnumber the trolls and the haters. Never before have I felt such a strong ‘them and us’ feeling when it comes to listening to emotional people begging the world to stop destroying it and seeing the internet haters spouting their vitriolic rants in response like arrows with cursed tips. I feel the sting of it on humanity and the weight of it like a deep blood red velvet cape. But the rebellion training urges all anger to be met with love, so I’ve been considering how I can turn my rage into love. I’m angry with idiots that think it’s okay to tell me how much they are enjoying a juicy steak when I talk about veganism. Or argue that Trump is right and climate change is all a bunch of lies. Am I supposed to love those people? How?

I commented a couple of days ago on a smallholding page on Facebook where a woman asked what weed killer could she use in a field that wouldn’t harm her ponies or chickens. I said ‘Don’t use weedkiller’ and thus ensued various trolling statements some quite vitriolic about me being a vegan. I felt a spiky red rage rise up in me and I wanted to berate the trolls and make them look stupid but instead I tried the XR way. I closed my eyes, pictured the colour indigo and instead of arguing with the worst troll, I wrote ‘Much love to you’ and lots of flower emojis. I expected something hateful back; something that would show this brute’s true colours, but instead he wrote ‘same to you’ and hasn’t said anything nasty since. I’m delighted (this emotion is yellow for me, like sunshine) as I feel like it’s proof that the only way to respond to the haters is with love (or not at all if it can’t be loving). I don’t want to waste my energies arguing with idiots online. I need to be more indigo and less red.

I’m also aware that people take to trolling on the internet as a release for all the pent up rage they feel in their everyday lives. I know this rage (bright red and clashing fuchsia for me) so I can relate. When I’ve been unhappy in the past, strangers online have got the full wrath of my escalating rage, and I’ve belittled, chastised and put the idiots firmly in their place but it’s not won me any friends or left me feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. I am trying to remember that I need to take a deep breath, think indigo thoughts and exhale love and happiness when faced with internet trolls. I try to remind myself that happy people simply aren’t mean, and their true colours might not have anything to do with the ridiculous comment they just made online. They are sleepwalkers angrily protecting their right not to wake up, smell the roses and see the truth. I’m here for the ones ready to wake up. Ironically the truth pill in the Matrix is the red pill, and blue is the illusion. But for me, truth is blue (a soft cornflower blue maybe) but if you’ve been hiding from the truth all your life (and especially if you ever had to realise you were a nasty internet troll)  then the harsh reality could be red for you. Like a warning wake up call. This is an emergency, and time for us all to show our true colours; to be the change and not just just demand change.

Author: Shelley

I once asked my ex father in law why he didn't like me. His answer? 'You're one of those arty farty types'.

2 thoughts on “True Colours”

    1. Hello! Nice to meet you too!
      I’m not sure what plastic you are talking about as we don’t like plastic at all! Perhaps you’re talking about the sandbags at the gate? The river authority left them behind so we repurposed them to send the water to the gully they created so that the water coming down the hill can go into the drainage system we (and they) created. They used concrete which isn’t great either, but if it make you happy, we will try to replace the sandbags with an earth bank when we next do any planting or digging. If you are a conservationist yourself, perhaps you would to join us when we do our Himalayan Balsam Wood Bash and remove as much of the invasive plant as possible before it seeds. I will post the date on the gate 🙂

      Like

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