A Walk In The Woods And The Colors In It

A Walk In The Woods And The Colors In It

Reconnected with myself and gained a little bit of color in the process.


Green has been my favorite color for as long as I can remember. And not just any green. I've never been a fan of lime green or neon green. Fine colors, but middle of the pack, to say the least.

No, for me, it's always been about forest green.

Admittedly, I cannot exactly place why this is the case. Colors have always fascinated me in this. When it comes to other likes (foods, movies, music) there seems to always be a tangible qualifier to that desire. You like food because of the taste and texture, movies because they have great acting or an excellent plot, and music because of its beat or rhythm.

What does color have to offer in that department? With color, most people can't tell you why red or purple or orange is their favorite. I know, because I'm in much the same boat myself. I've never really been able to place why green, and even more narrowly, why that specific type of green, but I've had an affinity for it as long as I can remember.

This weekend, I was reminded why.

Hopping in a Jeep and barreling down I-20, I did my best to escape the seemingly persistent, consistent, never-ending crush of responsibility that is being a college student in 2018. Fleeing the city, I traded the grimy grays of Atlanta for the greens of the countryside.

I think it was in that fashion, I came to love my green. Not neon like the glaring lights of the city, but gentler, more stoic. The green of the forest comforts me, I believe because it is the green of renewal and plenty. The smell after it rains is called petrichor and I've always been drawn to the new life found in that rainfall. Greenness and health mixed to one.

Renewal is something that I've never not been in want of. I think that the case for most humans. We've never been perfect animals, despite our best efforts. Desire for perfection has thus parlayed itself into an admittance of that wrongdoing, and a subsequent desire to move forward, to not dwell.

Forwardness may, in fact, be the best of us.

And so, it is appropriate that I sought out renewal amongst the reborn matter of the Earth this past weekend. I would be remiss to say that there was no talk of Christ or religion. After all, I've found the details of Christ's story of sacrifice and redemption through love to be among the most powerful tales of renewal. And yet, Christ's wasn't the only story we told in the woods. We spoke of ourselves as well. To seek healing for the self without addressing the self in terms good, bad, and ugly would be disingenuous.

When I and three others sat on the rock in the river that was our topic: self and the perception of it. We discussed the adjectives we ascribed to our own beings, as well as those that others gifted us. We discussed how we thought and felt about those adjectives, the manner of adjectives a being as omniscient as God might ascribe to us, and where our true selves lie in the minds of all those in the middle.

In typical human fashion, none of us had perfect answers for such questions, though we did our best. Even in that, I can find something to admire. There is something to be said about struggling against great odds, even when we know those odds are too great.

I may not ever know everything, but that does not mean I cannot ask.

I was wrapped in green as I began the trek back the other way along the interstate. Green in person, but green in thought too. And in that moment, I think green became my favorite color all over again.

Popular Right Now

11 Things Psychology Majors Hear That Drive Them Crazy

No pun intended.

We've all been there. You're talking to a new acquaintance, or a friend of your parents, or whoever. And then, you get the dreaded question.

"So what are you studying in school?"

Cue the instant regret of picking Psychology as your major, solely for the fact that you are 99.9% likely to receive one of the slightly comical, slightly cliche, slightly annoying phrases listed below. Don't worry though, I've included some responses for you to use next time this comes up in conversation. Because it will.

Quick side note, these are all real-life remarks that I've gotten when I told people I was a psych major.

Here we go.

1. So are you, like, analyzing me right now?

Well, I wasn't. But yeah. Now I am.

2. Ugh so jealous! You picked the easy major.

"Lol" is all I have to say to this one. I'm gonna go write my 15-page paper on cognitive impairment. You have fun with your five college algebra problems, though!

3. So can you tell me what you think is wrong with me? *Shares entire life story*

Don't get me wrong; I love listening and helping people get through hard times. But we can save the story about how one time that one friend said that one slightly rude comment to you for later.

4. Well, s**t, I have to be careful what I say around you.

Relax, pal. I couldn't diagnose and/or institutionalize you even if I wanted to.

5. OMG! I have the perfect first client for you! *Proceeds to vent about ex-boyfriend or girlfriend*

Possible good response: simply nod your head the entire time, while actually secretly thinking about the Ben and Jerry's carton you're going to go home and demolish after this conversation ends.

6. So you must kind of be like, secretly insane or something to be into Psychology.

Option one: try and hide that you're offended. Option two: just go with it, throw a full-blown tantrum, and scare off this individual, thereby ending this painful conversation.

7. Oh. So you want to be a shrink?

First off, please. Stop. Calling. Therapists. Shrinks. Second, that's not a psych major's one and only job option.

8. You know you have to go to grad school if you ever want a job in Psychology.

Not completely true, for the record. But I am fully aware that I may have to spend up to seven more years of my life in school. Thanks for the friendly reminder.

9. So you... want to work with like... psychopaths?

Let's get serious and completely not-sarcastic for a second. First off, I take personal offense to this one. Having a mental illness does not classify you as a psycho, or not normal, or not deserving of being treated just like anyone else on the planet. Please stop using a handful of umbrella terms to label millions of wonderful individuals. It's not cool and not appreciated.

10. So can you, like, read my mind?

It actually might be fun to say yes to this one. Try it out and see what happens. Get back to me.

11. You must be a really emotional person to want to work in Psychology.

Psychology is more than about feeling happy, or sad, or angry. Psychology is about understanding the most complex thing to ever happen to us: our brain. How it works the way it does, why it works the way it does, and how we can better understand and communicate with this incredibly mysterious, incredibly vast organ in our tiny little skull. That's what psychology is.

So keep your head up, psychology majors, and don't let anyone discourage you about choosing, what is in my opinion, the coolest career field out there. The world needs more people like us.

Cover Image Credit: Pexels

Related Content

Connect with a generation
of new voices.

We are students, thinkers, influencers, and communities sharing our ideas with the world. Join our platform to create and discover content that actually matters to you.

Learn more Start Creating

Short Stories On Odyssey: Roses

What's worth more than red roses?


Five years old and a bouquet of roses rested in her hands. The audience-- clapped away her performance, giving her a standing ovation. She's smiling then because everything made sense, her happiness as bright as the roses she held in her hands.

Fifteen now, and a pile of papers rested on her desk. The teachers all smiled when she walked down the aisle and gave them her presentation. She was content then but oh so stressed, but her parents happy she had an A as a grade, not red on her chest.

Eighteen now and a trail of tears followed her to the door. Partying, and doing some wild things, she just didn't know who she was. She's crying now, doesn't know anymore, slamming her fists into walls, pricking her fingers on roses' thorns.

Twenty-one and a bundle of bills were grasped in her hands. All the men-- clapped and roared as she sold her soul, to the pole, for a dance. She's frowning now because everything went wrong, but she has to stay strong, for rich green money, is worth more than red roses.

Related Content

Facebook Comments