Go gently into the vat. Stay as long as you need. When you rise, you will not be the same. The color will have entered the weave of you.
The invitation, then, is not written on cardstock or whispered in a crowded room. It arrives as a sudden ache for silence. A pull toward the window at twilight. An urge to set down the phone and sit with nothing but breath and the fading light. indigo invitatii
Indigo cannot be rushed. In the dye vat, the cloth absorbs color invisibly, changing only when lifted into air. So too with the inner life. An indigo invitation asks you to stop fixing, solving, or narrating. It asks you to simply stay in the question, the ache, the not-knowing. To let the air change you. Go gently into the vat