At least it would be, if love were a color.
I recently heard a succinct descriptor of love that summed up for me what has always felt like a more complex view that I’m sure I share with others. I consider love, its most healthy version at least, to be more of a choice — serene and lucid at its core. It is not proud, it is not boastful.
I believe that love should feel like a safe space and is at its most pure when offered purposefully. When it is expressed from a place of sound mind and intentional heart. It knows exactly what it is doing and gets its point across without disrupting its virtue, because of its virtue.
Love is blue.
That is the statement I heard on Jada Pinkett-Smith’s show, Red Table Talk.
We tend to think of love as red — as aggressive and overly passionate, barely containable. It is palms sweating, in your face, heart pounding, burning desire that teeters on the brink of madness and sometimes crosses over. The problem with red love is that it is emotionally volatile. That intense yearning can quickly shift gears and manifest itself through less congenial characteristics — Such as obsession, jealousy, control and rage.
But that’s what red is. It doesn’t just announce its presence in the room, it claims the room as its own and wields its power. In just about any study of…
