Black and White

I recently joined a group on Flickr called Minimalist Black and White. This is a photo group that posts pictures only in black and white. I don't post on it (although I probably should) but I love to look at other people's pictures.

I have always loved the stark beauty inherent in black and white photography. The lines are so clean, it's clear where one thing starts and another ends, and even the shades of gray that show up are beautiful.

I sometimes wish life were more like black and white photography. I wish danger zones were more apparent, that things were what they seemed, and that the gray areas held more promise than they sometimes do in life.

I look back over what I just wrote, and I know that life is all about the gray shades. No one is one thing or another, we are all mixtures of black and white and gray and blue and pink and magenta and violet and every other color. We would be boring, colorless.

But my heart is in pain for a friend whose life is lived in shades of gray, of uncertainty. He feels powerless to change what is challenging in his life and thus lives without color. His vision is that of black and white; he's right, everyone who doesn't agree with him is wrong. His black and white vision is his prison. Tonight he's in his own solitary confinement and my heart aches for him.

It's when life gets tough that I wish it were as easy as black and white; it's when I look at where that viewpoint gets a person that I remember black and white is better left in pictures and that life is better lived in color.

Hugs to you, my friend. Hugs to you and I wish I could fix it for you but all I can do is be your friend. I hope it's enough.