synesthesia (n.) – the neurological condition in which stimulation of one sensory or cognitive pathway (for example, hearing) leads to automatic, involuntary experiences in a second sensory or cognitive pathway (such as vision)

Psychology Today

Synesthesia is pretty nifty, and it’s a phenomenon most of us will experience at some point. Maybe the squeal of a piccolo brings images of golden-yellow to your mind — a prime example of chromesthesia, the association of certain sounds with colors. Or maybe the number 1 and the letter A are lexical embodiments of the color red, which would be grapheme-color synesthesia — association of particular letters and numbers with colors. (Read more about synesthesia here.)

Now, synesthesia doesn’t have a clinical diagnosis, and in any case, I’m not particularly affected by it. From time to time, I’ll get into a mildly sarcastic argument with a dissenting friend about why D is definitely a green letter, but the preternatural artsy associations of synesthesia evade me most of the time.

Lately, though, something similar to synesthesia has been occupying my brain. Right now, everything feels beige-gray. A tangled and stormy texture, yet an aggressively neutral color. My life, my house, my existence — it all feels like the ambivalent walls of a chiropractor waiting room, like muddy river waters, like dream-crushing corporate cubicles of tax collector offices. It feels so boring, so uncertain, and so apathetic about what happens next, about why it’s here, about where it goes. It’s there, but not really. It’s trying to be all the colors at once but instead has reduced each vibrant, individualistic shade into a dejected pool of collectivist beige-gray.

It’s confined, it’s holding its breath, it’s sucking everything in but also having nobody to impress. It’s tired and it just wants to sleep for the rest of eternity, because what’s the point of being active? Everything is the same, is unnamed, is beige-gray.

For me, Covid-19 means being pent up in the house and not able to participate in the extracurriculars that have always kept me too busy to contemplate the color of my life. I’m not dashing between orchestra rehearsal and musical performances and art shows and competitions and homework in the car. The colors of a busy life scream by so fast you don’t have time to take them in, to the point where you sometimes forget what made them beautiful in the first place. Now, I have all the alone time in the world to just be me, to just sit inside my body, listen to my brain, and see, in its full vibrancy (or lack thereof), the shade that colors my worldview, my existence, my reality, right now.

It’s kind of not a fun color. I’d rather not be stuck in beige-gray forever. The lamp, the printer, the speaker on this desk — it’s all beige-gray. And no offense to our family’s outdated office supplies, but I’d rather not be like that. I’d rather feel like a color worth noticing, a color that makes people smile, or laugh, or at least react in some way. I’d rather not feel like my everything means nothing.

Beige-gray isn’t happy. But even if beige-gray doesn’t care about being happy, beige-gray shouldn’t be stealing the colors, the light and joy, out of all the other shades. In fact, beige-gray can make the other colors shine brighter than before. Beige-gray needs to exist — otherwise, there’d be nothing to break up an endless rainbow of colors, and our senses would be overwhelmed. The quiet, subdued, negative space created by beige-gray helps us appreciate the beauty of pure, pigmented presence, of busy-ness, of movement.

All of us are an endlessly complex palette of colors that not even Pantene could keep track of. The shades constantly run into each other; some clash, some blend, and some are complementary and make one other even brighter than before. Some moments of our lives feel memorable because they’re bright; other moments we want to forget because they’re dark. What I want you — and me — to remember is that every color matters. Every color means something, no matter how ugly or beautiful or dull or vibrant it is. And if you don’t like your color right now, then find a new color. Call you friends and let their voices add a touch of carnation pink. Watch a horror movie late at night for a shock of crimson red. Pet your cat as you read a well-loved novel and let the soothing navy blue seep in.

Beige-gray is not forever. Beige-gray is the perfect base for mixing new shades to build a cherished color that is unabashedly, uniquely you. Of course, some colors are inevitable, because some moods and moments and changes in our life are inevitable. However, it’s you who decides what to do with the palette life hands you. Your life is your empty canvas. Make it beautiful, whatever that means to you.