Still seeing in the dark.

Seeing in the Dark: When Color Becomes a Companion I haven’t written here in a while, but lately something has been calling me back — quietly, persistently — asking me to pay attention again. For the past few days, color has been staying with me in a way I can’t ignore. It started with bright oranges, then deeper reds, and now what I’m noticing most is a hot pink-red — leaning more toward red than pink. It’s vivid, warm, and steady. Not flashing. Not overwhelming. Just… present. I’m not trying to label it as anything more than what it is. I’m simply noticing. There’s something powerful about noticing without rushing to explain. As someone who lives and moves through the world differently, I’ve learned that awareness itself can be a form of navigation. When you “see in the dark,” you don’t always rely on sharp outlines or perfect clarity. Sometimes you rely on tone, feeling, warmth, and subtle shifts that guide you forward. This color feels like that. It doesn’t feel alarmin...

Evening Reflection – The Many Voices of Thunder I’ve always noticed that thunder has its own language — one that changes with every storm. There’s the kind that cracks sharply through the air, sounding as if the sky itself is splitting open. Then there’s the deep, low rumble that rolls across the ground and makes the whole house tremble — a sound that feels like the heartbeat of the sky itself. And sometimes, there’s the softer kind — a slow, steady murmur that drifts gently away, like a calm voice reminding us that the storm will soon pass. Each kind of thunder carries a feeling. The loud ones are like sudden bursts of emotion — anger, grief, or fear that can’t be contained. The deep rumbles are those steady, ongoing feelings we carry quietly — the ones that shake us inside even when we look calm on the outside. And the soft rolls? They remind us of peace, of letting go, of rest after the storm. I think our emotions are a lot like thunder. They each have a voice, a rhythm, a reaso...

Evening Reflection – The Colors of Memory 💙💛 Tonight, the color around me feels like a very dark shade of blue — deep, almost endless. It’s not empty, though. It’s alive with yellow floating all over it — little sparks of warmth and light. Some of the yellow gathers in piles, some threads its way gently through, and some comes drifting in clumps, softly and quietly, like thoughts that have been waiting to be remembered. I spent a little while this evening listening to The Joy of Painting with Bob Ross on YouTube. Even though I can’t see his paintings anymore, I can still feel them — the rhythm in his voice, the calm in his brushstrokes, the way he spoke about colors like they were living things. I remember how beautiful his colors looked — Phthalo Blue , Alizarin Crimson , Cadmium Yellow , Van Dyke Brown . Each one had its own story, its own way of shining. Hearing him paint brought back so many memories of when I could still see. It’s strange how something so comforting can al...

🌿 Color Reflection – Light Green Renewal This morning, my inner world showed me a color I haven’t seen in quite some time — a soft, light green. It reminded me a little of Kermit the Frog’s shade, only lighter, as if a bit of white had been mixed in. It still held that gentle undertone of green, calm yet quietly alive. Last night, everything was dark inside — muddy browns with slow-moving yellows, clumping together and piling up quietly. It felt heavy, still, and uncertain. But today, that heaviness has lifted. The green feels peaceful and renewing, like soft grass after the rain or fresh leaves opening toward the morning light. Sometimes, our emotional colors darken before they bloom again. And when they do, they often return in the gentlest ways — reminding us that growth, peace, and healing can glow in quiet shades of calm. 💚            

This morning I got up after being sick for the past two days, and my mind has been circling around the word trust. There are relationships in life where we give our trust freely, because we believe that closeness, honesty, and openness are the foundation of what keeps people together. And then there are moments where that trust isn’t returned the way we hoped. Instead of real honesty, we hear: “It’s hard to explain.” Those words can feel like walls. They leave us standing in the dark, trying to reach for understanding but only finding distance. For me, this has been a painful lesson—especially with people I’ve cared about deeply. But here’s the truth I keep holding onto: even when trust feels broken, even when words don’t match actions, I can still see in the dark. Because seeing in the dark means keeping faith in myself, my journey, and the clarity that eventually comes. Maybe you’ve been there too—giving love and openness, only to find hesitation, half-answers, or avoidance in r...

The night reminds us that rest is part of the work. Taking time to recharge doesn’t mean giving up—it means preparing to shine even brighter tomorrow. Even small moments of peace, reflection, or kindness at the end of the day can make a big difference in how we approach the next. Remember to honor your efforts and take care of yourself. #Empowerment #SelfCare #DisabilityAdvocacy 

✨ Colors in My World ✨ Even though I am blind and do not use my eyes in the way many people do, my inner world is still filled with color. Sometimes it’s bright orange humming all day. Other times, a burning, pure red drifts in suddenly, steady and strong. Often there are tiny floaters that look like little jets, strings, or even tiny birds moving across that backdrop. They don’t come from the outside world — they come from within me. I’ve noticed these colors and floaters show up when I open my eyes wide, when I blink quickly, or when my eyes jump because of the nerves that are still alive in them. When that happens, the colors seem to wake up too. Sometimes it feels like a glowing painting happening right behind my eyelids, moving and shifting in its own rhythm. There’s nothing negative about this for me — it’s a reminder that even without sight, light still dances inside. The bright backgrounds and floating shapes tell their own little story, almost like tiny birds soaring acro...