Back when I was freshly graduated from a kind of uptight college back East and only partially aware of what it meant to be an adult in the People’s Republic of Boulder, the big-deal outdoor clothing brand bore a little green logo that said “Think Pink.”
Thinking pink, my Ph.D. archaeologist boss explained, originated among rock climbers and had to do with relaxing your mind and freeing yourself of fear.
I’ve been doing a lot of pink thinking this spring and not because I’m worried about where I’ll find my next handhold.
I can’t help it. Every morning I’m confronted by drifts of deep magenta and clouds of rose-tinged apple blooms. The peach trees have offered sunset-hued branches heavy with tiny coral-edged flowers. Pale yellow French tulips open wide to reveal raspberry throats, and the frosty pops of flowers on the plum trees are dotted with teeny pads of dusty cerise pollen. Even in Denver’s Civic Center, where the hot political winds blow from either side, the crabapples still encircle the park in a dusky violet ring of nearly spent petals.
As I wander around town with the dogs, their plummy tongues hanging low, I feel calm and happy, ready to face my day with courage, informed by the power of pink. Dana Coffield, The Denver Post
