shades of green

I am looking at a wooded hillside. Everything is green. But as I gaze at these trees, at this wood, I notice that the word green is inadequate. There are so many shades and hues. There are dark greens and light greens. Some of the green is yellowish, some more bluish. There are brownish greens. And all these words seem inadequate. There's a whole palate: an infinite continuous range of shades and hues. It's so rich, and yet we label it all green.

And so seeing this, this beautiful wooded hillside, I am reminded of the danger of using words. A single word can denote such a range of things. By calling all these colours green, we are simplifying life. We are reducing it, making it manageable to our mind, making it easy to convey, communicate – but only approximately. And this is the difficulty with thoughts and words, with speech, with written communication. It's all approximate, and it doesn't really do justice to life.

So instead of using the word green, I will simply sit in silence, and gaze at the beauty of it all.