Inchworm

 Mmmm... warm, relaxed, pleasantly expended.

Like the feeling of your muscles after you've spent many hours walking briskly, or after a light workout of pilates, your body is used and you're reminded of the astounding things your body can do.  

I imagine it's similar to the feeling you get when you stand knee-deep in the ocean or at the base of Rockefeller Tower, and realize how small you really are in this universe.  It's what true humility is, that feeling of awe at how insignificant you really are.  Yet we are graced with the beauty of existence, and the ability to feel such wonder in spite of our insignificance in the grand scheme of things.

Another instance comes when we realize how precious and evanescent our relationships with those around us are.  As we pause and accept the changes in others, the changes in ourselves, and finally come to terms with the past and it's separation from the present, we feel that same humility.  There are those who touch our lives, and those whose lives we touch; even in our insignificance we have the power to influence someone, and there are those that consider us worthwhile enough to reach out to.

This humility, the moments of acknowledging our minuscule role, is a source of hope.  It's not a feeling of despair because we aren't strong enough or big enough or important enough to make the world better, but rather the awe of knowing that we are a single drop in the ocean but we might be a lake to some unsuspecting ant.  It's the hope that we can change what we can in this world, make it better for the generations that will take our places, and preserve the beauty that is already here.  

It's the color of knowing that somehow, in some unimportant and most likely overlooked way, we have the power to create something significant from our little, insignificant lives.