I’ve often heard black described in less than flattering terms. After all, black is dark and scary things lurk in the darkness. Shadows are dark, unhappy moods are dark, monsters hide in dark closets and of course, it is always darkest before the dawn. At this moment, on the other hand, if I saw only a white light, seemingly at the end of a sort of tunnel, I think I’d head back to black. Back to life.
Colours, bright colours; cheerful, right? Springtime, after all, screams colour and with that colour new life abounds. Of course new life means that there was old life that had to perish, martyred for the rainbow of new.
What is black though, if not where all the humanly visible wavelengths of light commune? It is that special dimension where all rays are finally accepted for who they really are. By golly they deserve it too, because if one thing can be said for a WOL it’s that it does not conform. Might get into some hot water and bend the rules a little here and there, but never conforms. It stays true to who it is whether rejected, like red, by the angry apple, or just ignored and made to feel invisible by the colour-blind. It is still it’s own wavelength. Black is acceptance. Black is not the absence of colour, it is every colour living in harmony.
White, cruel white. White rejects, reflects and exposes. Does the brightness of white not expose what lurks in the darkness? It does, but let’s hope that what lurks in the darkness is not you, and what’s exposed is not the author of your demise. Perhaps certain things are hiding in the blackness because they are private, and maybe the callous flick of the light switch without warning is assault worse than the violent rip of a bandaid from your hairy arm. White is bright, white is blinding, white hates colour.
So what about black then? Well the way I see it, unlike the darkness of white, where colour is not welcomed, black is where all colour lives in harmony. Black is light. In fact, black’s light is so bright that we go blind when we stare directly at it.