When you’re young, when you’re experimenting, life is different. The blue of your petals is fresh. It is juvenile. It doesn’t have too many patterns to pay attention to, too many ramifications, too many possibilities, too many choices to make. It is plain and it is beautiful as it is. Simple logic. Simple reason. Clean and pure. Then, the orange of your desire, of your emotions, of your lust, it is also clear, direct, obvious… but kept hidden. You are shy. You let people discover it, search for it, smell, taste, feast on your perfume. You are at the beginning and the longing for adventure is dear to your heart.
Disappointments open your eyes but, at the same time, close your heart.
As you get older, as you go on with living your life, as you see that many have been denied the possibility to reach your current age, as you encounter problems, challenges, you inevitable change. Your blue turns violet. It is still a kind of blue… but darker. Your reason and your knowledge become wisdom. You don’t venture, you don’t risk as much as you used to risk in the past; you can foresee things, predict them, already play them in your mind, having already won or lost before or without even actually playing them in reality. The patterns on your petals are variegated, they vary and are variable, they turn complicated as you struggle to outwit everyone and you gamble at life’s game. But you also notice that you lose pigment from your petals, that in some places the violet is replaced by white. Sterile analysis. Overthinking. You don’t only grow wise but you also grow careful. Too careful.
Some see a weed. Some see a wish.
Then, your orange turns yellow. Your emotions, your desires, are no longer hidden, waiting for someone to discover them. They are in plain view, on display, out there for everyone to see them. You are more self-assured. And self-assumed. But that voluptuous and sinful orange dye is replaced by a more spiritualized, or regretfully intellectualized, yellow. You are outspoken, clear, yet somehow less impetuous. You can harbor more refined feelings yet you risk less and less. Your ship stays too much at bay and rarely ventures in the open sea. And ships aren’t built for that. Floating anchored in a port looks more and more as being stranded at shore.