Octarine magic
There are eight colors of magic. It’s actually surprising that there are eight. Seven is the magic number, there are seven notes that repeat octave after octave, seven planets, and just yesterday I read a text about how – in an attempt to order and make sense of the world, something humans consistently love to do – seven colors were also assigned to the rainbow.
It is only for practical reasons that in the rainbow flag the number was reduced to six. In truth the number of colors is infinite. Infinity, however, doesn't help us with relatable design.
Therefore, in this paradigm, we talk about eight colors of magic. It works well with the eight pointed star, and I guess that played a substantial role.
It's seven plus one.
Octarine.
I'm currently encountering the "meaning" of Octarine experientally. Which means, in everyday life. Octarine is my filter, if you will. I've done this with other colors as well, and no, I'm not doing it alone, but I am bound to secret secrets, indeed. What I can talk about are my experiences and thoughts, and that's what this practice of encountering the colors is all about: the space that they offer. The space of mind I am in, while living in a color. By which I mean, not only what I think, but how I think it. The way a color shapes how I see the world and what I notice. How I move, if I am slow or fast, decisive or sluggish, horny, curious, sharp, … every color makes me focus on other parts of myself. And gives me teachings.
I thought Octarine would come with glitter and rainbows, queerness and magic. I was longing for that.
I moved into it coming from Black, from a very literal very cold winter with very dark nights. I had ended a relationship, I was still unhappy (though relieved), but before anything else, I was exhausted. Maybe someday I'll write about black, which initially felt like coming home but later turned tough and lonely.
So I dreamed for Oktarin's unicorn to show up. That matched the energy of the Chinese sign of the year, the Fire Pony. The fire horse comes, you jump on, leave all the old crap behind, and ride into the Octarine sunset.
Ummm, no. That has about as much foothold in reality as the dream of the knight in shining armor. Which has never been mine, and if it were, I wouldn't admit it. But no. Not my kind of dream.
Not much happened. Nothing big, at least.
The question all along was: What is Oktarin for me?
And finally, I start to get a grasp.
Octarine is a remembering of myself. I look in the mirror and recognize myself. I repeat things I liked, I rediscover who I am. I I look back and into the archives, but only to create the 2026 edition of me. I set out to do new things that I liked all along and I remember that it is what I have always been like.
I see the big cycles I'm moving through, and I have to laugh because I worry about the same things as I did 20 years ago. It's different, still – I'm always me. That’s very sweet, even if there are lifetimes between then and now.
This time, I like myself. I know I am capable.
Octarine is a reminder of what I want to do. Of my power, of my creativity that dearly, desperately, wants to be expressed, of my weirdness.
Were you a weird kid?
Oh, I never stopped.
And now I dare.
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