“Every year of my life I grow more convinced that it is wisest and best to fix our attention on the beautiful and the good, and dwell as little as possible on the evil and the false.” – Richard Cecil
For me, beautiful means red. Certainly there is beauty in the other colors, but it is red that energizes me, moves me, defines my passion. So, when I see a world of colors, it tends to be the reds on which I focus.
See, I know the choice is mine. I also understand that simply because I choose to see red most vividly, that doesn’t mean gray doesn’t exist. It means that I simply choose not to care about gray, expect to the extent it makes red more joyous.
We have the same power with the things that trouble us. We can wallow in a world of gray suns and empty hopes, or we can focus on that which brings us joy. Our having problems is not a choice. Our being defined by them is.
When comes the morrow, we can rise, we can dance, we can see colors. Which ones you make important that day will define your day. As for me, when the morning comes, I will be seeing rainbows of red. And colorful mornings make for very fine days.
Very fine indeed.