Yesterday I wore a brown tank top. It wasn't new, but it had been a couple of years since I wore it. I found it in the bottom of a drawer and thought I'd give it one last chance before deciding whether or not it was time to pass it on to a new wearer. Wearing a brown shirt may seem unremarkable to you, but for me it was out of place enough that my husband commented on it not being very "me". He was right, and I'd noticed a drabness (though it is a lovely chocolate brown) surrounding me that I couldn't shake. I changed to a pale pink tank top and we both smiled at the improvement. As a yoga student and teacher, I take careful consideration of everything I put into or onto my body, including the colors of my clothes. It wasn't always so conscious, though, and I thought I'd share the evolution of my wardrobe, and, in a way, myself.
When I was a kid, I wore whatever my mom bought or made for me. I don't recall if I had a favorite color (though I've always been particularly fond of blue), but I know that I used clothing to express my individuality. Junior high was tough, as I still wanted to fit in. By high school, though, I was confident enough that I lost interest in fashion trends and went out of my way to dress differently than other kids. It was the early nineties, and I was the first girl to wear combat boots and a kilt. I didn't want to be labeled, though, so I would alternate a "punky" get-up with a hippie skirt, hand-painted jeans, or a dress I'd sewn myself. To my credit, I was voted "most individual" my senior year. That's saying a lot for a girl of that age.
By college, I had eased into black and earth tones. Still very disinterested in fashion (particularly because I'd spent my teenage years living in Spain, where clothing was approached very differently than in Bloomington, Indiana - and my heart [and sense of style] remained in Europe), I kept bucking trends even as I began to blend more and more into the background. The colors of my clothing expressed my conflicted nature regarding beauty, womanhood, the value placed upon women's bodies, etc. On the one hand I wanted to turn heads and be considered beautiful just as much as the next young woman. On the other, I understood that there was much more to me than physical appeal, and I didn't think that displaying my breasts for public approval was the same thing as actually being lovely. To complicate matters, I was on the survivor's side of an abusive relationship that had left my self-esteem almost non-existent, so I was quick to disagree with - and become suspicious of - anyone who told me I was beautiful. I became accustomed to wearing the kind of colors that blend into the background, whispering "Please, whatever you do don't look my way."
Then, of course, there were the military years. My daily uniform was camouflage (called BDUs), with the occasional Air Force blue. As time passed, and Rob & I spent a year on one of the most heavily defended borders in the world (that between North and South Korea) followed by tours in the middle east during OPERATION IRAQI FREEDOM (the air war that preceded the current occupation of Iraq), our off-duty uniform became sweats and the yucky brown t-shirts worn under the BDU top. One look at us and the least perceptive person could have seen our depression, but we were surviving - and counting the days till we were out of the military.
Easing into civilian life in 2004, my even bigger move was being accepted into the College of Purna Yoga. Right there, in the student manual, were the instructions not to wear black. Anyone who's bought women's yoga apparel knows that it can be tough to find pants in any color but black! I was alarmed, and concerned. Why no black? Where would I find non-black? Could I at least wear brown? Navy blue? Something, ya know, dark-ish?!? Surely they didn't expect me to wrap my rather, um, "shapely" backside into -gasp! - a bright color! Oh, boy, did I have some work to do. :-)
It was explained to us, and I now have the privilege of explaining it to my students, that when yoga students wear black it is very difficult for the teacher to see their alignment. Black, as most women know, is "slimming" precisely because it blurs the lines of the body. When practicing asana, that means that as the teacher scans the students' bodies to check for proper alignment (a safety concern), the black pants that are oh-so-flattering pull a figurative shade over the teacher's eyes. Beyond safety concerns, black represents a void of light. Scientists explain the same principle, stating that on the light spectrum, white is the integration of all the colors (or wavelengths) while black is the absence of light. In yoga light is used as an analogy for the Divine. In Purna Yoga specifically, we seek to increase our connection to and embodiment of the Divine. Dressing in black (especially, but other drab colors as well) perpetuates the disconnection between us and the Divine. It's like advertising an absence of Light, if you will.
Absence of Light, eh? Living in the Pacific Northwest, I know a little something about what happens when humans live with an absence of light for days, weeks, or even months at a time. Clothing ourselves in dark, drab colors is akin to living under cloudy skies day after day. Choosing brighter colors not only welcomes light into our world, it begins a subtle transformation in how we feel about the world.
Don't believe me? Try it for yourself: wear a red, light blue, sage green, pink, purple, orange, or any other color that you see in a flower garden (not in a swamp!) every day for a week. Notice how you feel during that week. (Keep in mind that people will notice you more now, and it may take longer than a week to get over the insecurities that arise from that.) The reactions of other people to you will provide some obvious, and positive, feedback. Notice how others seem to feel when they are around you. You'll get comments like "Oh! You look so springy/summery." and even the occasional "Thanks for looking like such a breath of fresh air." Colors enliven and embolden us, helping us open more to the joys of life.
So the brown shirt, after washing, will be put into the donation bag. Today, I happily wore a red patterned wrap skirt and a blush-colored tank. Very girly, very summery, and nowadays...very ME.
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