©4-22-2011 by Donna Cunningham, MSW
Skywriter is a mixed-purpose blog of which astrology and healing are only two of the aims, while memoir writing is another.
I’ve joined a creative writing group online now, and one of the writing prompts this week challenged us to describe cobalt blue or some other color of our choice. It became a short version of my life, told from the perspective of colors that heal me!
Cobalt blue has always been a power color for me. It’s not that I wear it. You can’t capture that level of intensity in a fabric…unless you’re Kate Middleton, maybe. For me, I find it only in translucent glassware of stained glass blue.
The color’s healing power probably began for me when I was a toddler in a house where 3-4 adults smoked roll-your-own cigarettes incessantly. My adored grandmother would get out that cobalt blue jar of pungent Vicks Vaporub and grease my chest to ease my labored breathing.
My only science course in high school was chemistry, and it wasn’t clear why I was even there until the day I encountered copper sulfate.
The teacher conducted an experiment where we each dissolved a piece of the deeply-hued CuS04 in acid, creating a thick, cobalt blue solution. I was entranced, but by the time the period ended, it had turned an inky black.
I was quite a determined kid, and in the weeks that followed, I set myself the task of preserving the cobalt-colored solution. The teacher was amused, I could tell, but indulged me in a series of mad-scientist experiments. I would dissolve the mineral in one acid or another, race to the HomeEc room, and place it in the freezer. After school, I’d hurry back to HomeEc, but, to my disappointment, the solution had always turned black.
Fast forward a quarter century to my entry into a mystery school in New York where I was in training to become a lightworker. One of the earliest frequencies of light we learned was cobalt blue, the color for dispelling fear by increasing clarity and wisdom.
This potent healing tool became a keystone for lifting a lifetime of oppressive fears, anxieties, and insecurities.
Sooner rather than later, I left the mystery school because I could not abide by their rule of secrecy.
I’ve never stopped loving and using the cobalt frequency, which I evoke by collecting glassware of that color. To this day, you’ll find pieces of it on my window sill or hanging in the sunlight.
Oh, by the way, I learned somewhere in my healing studies that you can put water in a colored glass container in the sun for a day, and it takes on the healing power of that color. It’s called solarized water. Try it!
Ruby glass runs in my family. My Leo mother collected it; my Leo sister collected it; and Little old Leo Rising Moi collected it as well. The birthstone for Leo is…yep, ruby.
Are you wondering what healing properties this color has? It strengthens positive Mars qualities like courage, stamina, and the capacity to take and to sustain decisive action, especially when we are hesitant or worn down by struggle.
The women of my family haven’t been conscious of that reason to love it–it’s just an instinctive response to something that has sustained us through hardship.
Last summer, I moved from a 2-bedroom apartment to a studio in a senior highrise, drastically downsizing half to two-thirds of my possessions in the process.
I decided my largish ruby glass collection could go, even the dinnerware set I got at Sears in 1974 and had used daily since. I commissioned my friend, Lynne, to sell the lot for me on Craig’s List or in consignment shops and we’d split the proceeds.
A couple of days ago, Lynne and I spent the day together, enjoying a long, chatty lunch. I told her a story about my teenage addiction to sunflower seeds and how it wound up getting me sent to the principle’s office for absent-mindedly leaving the shells behind in class.
Afterwards, we stopped at the nearest Goodwill Superstore. I was idly browsing the housewares department, not allowing myself to acquire even one more thing lest my studio become too cluttered. Clutter frets me and rumples my peace of mind.
But as ruthless as I can be about clutter, a heart-shaped ruby glass candy dish in one of the displays grabbed me and yanked hard. It was solid, substantial, and vibrant with color.
What a battle ensued, but sanity won out, and I put the heart back on the shelf and pushed my shopping cart out of visual range of temptation. I headed for safe turf—the inevitable, affordable, and rapidly used-up shower gels.
When Lynne joined me in the car later, she thrust a bag at me. The item was shrouded in newspaper, but as I groped, I could feel the shape—a wavy, rounded top, a pointed bottom.
“You didn’t!” I said.
“I did,” she replied, “You’re supposed to have it.”
It was, of course, the ruby glass heart, which she’d filled with sunflower seeds because of the story I’d told her over lunch. I took the dish home, and it’s sitting on my end table in the sunlight, next to my cobalt blue pieces.
Each time I look at it, it reminds me that I am loved and that God does not intend that I deprive myself of things that bring me joy.
What about you, Readers? Is there any color that you find especially healing? Write about it in the comment section.
PS. I am reminded, belatedly, that Vibration Magazine, the online flower-essence journal, Deborah Bier and I edit had a special issue on light, color, and essences. See it here: August, 2006.