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The Color of Mourning

I’m not really sure why I’m posting this. It keeps bugging me, so I’m getting out of my system in an effort to make it stop bugging me.

There is a place that exists in my mind that I often times visit. I lovingly call it the Interior. It is something I either created, or stumbled upon during my college years, when I didn’t really have a path that I subscribed to. It came about during a time of heavy warding and barrier creation, and I needed a place in my mind where I could visualize my barriers being constructed. Even now, I still go into the recesses of my mind to explore the Interior, to see what secrets she holds. And sometimes I go there to get away from problems. To reconnect with myself, and sometimes the gods.

Throughout the past 6 or 7 years of working with the Interior, there are a few things that have stayed the same. The general layout of the place is the same as it was then. The weather is almost always the same (overcast during the day, gigantic full moon at night). And so is my appearance. When I first started working on the Interior, I wore a black robe or cloak of some kind. And slowly, the cloak disappeared more and more, and a black kimono replaced it. At the time, I didn’t really note anything of it. It’s a kimono, right? Nothing new there. I like Japan, no big deal. Must be bleed through. But then I began to learn more and more about wafuku and it’s styles. And I realized I was wearing mofuku. Clothes for those in mourning.


Mofuku is easy to spot because you are literally wearing nothing but black (except the juban collar, normally). Even items that you don’t see are black. Black black black. And the only thing I was missing on my clothes on the Interior are the crests. As far as I know, I had no crests (the white dots you see). However, rain or shine. Summer, winter, whenever. I was in black. Black wafuku. Sometimes the kimono would hit my ankles, other days it was shorter- closer to my knees. But always black. The only color I ever had to my name (on a regular basis) was on a pair of tekko- of a purple-ish color. For many years, I was not without my arm guards (look at Miroku’s to get a good idea).

Now that I’ve learned more about kimono, and the nuances of what the patterns and cuts mean, I really wonder what on earth I’m doing wearing mourning wear all the time. Yes, I can go in there and forcibly change what I’m wearing, but it always defaults to this black. Is it a past life me, running around being all sad? Is it a reflection of something within myself- that I’m mourning all the time? Is it just a coincidence?

The more I’ve learned about how to wear all of these items, the clearer the clothes become. Originally, I had a hard time figuring out what was around my waist. I knew something was there, but I couldn’t figure out the details. Now that I know how that stuff goes on and appears, I can see it more. However, the black on black on black came around before I knew jack about kimono, or how it’s worn. And even during the era of my ‘cloak’, I was still always in black. Why this necessity of black? It really does confuse me, as I am not a wearer of black. I think I own 3 black items in my entire wardrobe.

To make matters even more confusing, there is another form of clothing that I’ve started to wear (in the past 2 years) that shows up when I’m actually around something dead. And it’s not black. It’s light pink. And the clothing is typical of a younger female. Talk about confusing.

Brain, Y U NO make sense?

 
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Posted by on May 4, 2012 in Rambles

 

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