The Colors We Wear: How Identity Shifts When We’re Searching For Home

 The Fluid Self We Rarely Acknowledge 

Identity is often spoken about as though it were fixed, something defined early, carried faithfully, and presented confidently to the world. Yet in reality, identity is closer to a shifting palette, blending and adapting in ways we don’t always recognize. In Under the Koa Tree by L. R. Rodrigues, this truth is reflected through Hula, a small moʻo whose shifting colors reveal far more than biological instinct. Her journey through ever-changing landscapes mirrors the subtle transformations we undergo when searching for a place where we truly belong. The story becomes a quiet but striking meditation on how we adopt, shed, and rediscover parts of ourselves while moving through different environments, relationships, and phases of life. 

Hula does not change colors to impress or to hide. She shifts to understand, to observe, to survive. And in many ways, she becomes a representation of what we already know intuitively but rarely put into words: that identity evolves the moment we step into unfamiliar territory. What we wear, emotionally, socially, and psychologically, is often shaped by the spaces we’re navigating. 

When the World Demands Adjustment 

Hula’s adventure begins with deep disorientation. A powerful storm uproots her from the safety of her nest, thrusting her into a forest she doesn’t yet understand. This is where her color-changing ability becomes most profound, not as camouflage, but as a response to a world that is suddenly unpredictable. With each new encounter, she absorbs the rhythm of the environment around her. She shifts shades not because she lacks identity, but because she is gathering the pieces she needs to build one. 

In our own lives, this moment of disorientation is familiar. A major change, a move, a loss, a new role, or even an emotional rupture, can shake the foundation of who we believe ourselves to be. Yet instead of collapsing, we adjust. We listen. We learn. We change tones depending on who we meet and what the moment demands. The adjustments aren’t betrayals of our authenticity; they are expressions of our adaptability. Like Hula, we become fluent in reading rooms, reading people, and reading the intricate signals that safety requires. 

Borrowed Landscapes and Temporary Selves 

As Hula meets individuals across the island, a firefighter, a park ranger, a professor, a coffee farmer, and a fisherman, she adopts the colors and textures of their worlds. Each shift is temporary, yet meaningful. She carries a piece of each encounter forward, building a layered sense of self not limited to her starting point. 

This mirrors the way humans often borrow from the environments they inhabit. The workplace might call for a sharper tone than home. Different social circles bring out different facets of our personality. Changing cities or cultures can reshape our gestures, vocabulary, and even the pace at which we move. These borrowed landscapes do not replace who we are; they expand us. 

Hula’s transformations remind us that the self is not static; it is cumulative. Each shift leaves an imprint. And even when we step away from that environment, the memory of it stays stitched into our identity. 

 

 

Seeing Ourselves Through Others’ Eyes 

One of the most compelling aspects of Hula’s journey is how others influence her without realizing it. She responds instinctively to the energy, colors, and intentions around her. She doesn’t mimic to blend in socially. She shifts because the presence of others reveals something new about the world. 

There is a parallel here with the way people shape us. Identity is rarely formed in isolation. The people we consider mentors, companions, or even brief acquaintances often leave invisible fingerprints on our sense of self. A ranger committed to protecting the forest might inspire a more grounded worldview. A fisherman navigating the tides might model persistence. A professor studying nature’s patterns might reveal the beauty of complexity. We absorb these impressions, even when unspoken. 

The idea that we “wear” parts of the people we encounter may sound poetic, but it is deeply human. Hula’s colors simply make visible what we experience internally: every relationship subtly paints us. 

When Belonging Becomes a Mirror 

At its core, the home search is rarely about a location. It is about resonance. Belonging happens when the version of ourselves we become in a certain place feels truthful, supported, and unforced. Hula experiences this through contrast. In her travels, she adapts constantly, yet none of those places hold the emotional recognition she craves. She can survive anywhere, but survival is not the same as belonging. 

When she finally returns to the koa tree, now grown, sturdy, and familiar, something shifts. The colors she carries are no longer responses to her environment. They are expressions of everything she has become. The forest doesn’t ask her to blend. It welcomes her as she is. 

This moment is pivotal. It suggests that belonging emerges not when we fit into a place, but when the place fits around who we have grown to be. Home becomes a mirror that reflects the whole spectrum of our identity, past versions, transformed colors, and newly discovered shades. 

The Identity We Claim After the Journey 

What makes Hula’s story so relevant in today’s world is the way it captures the emotional complexity of modern identity. People migrate more than ever, geographically, professionally, and emotionally. We live in constant negotiation between who we were, who we must be, and who we want to become. The colors we wear shift with each step, sometimes without our awareness. 

Yet Hula’s journey suggests something reassuring: identity does not fracture with each change. It expands. Every environment contributes a new hue, and every encounter adds depth. The home search is not about finding one final version of ourselves. It is about accepting that we are many-layered, adaptive, and capable of returning stronger to the spaces that shaped us. 

In a world where belonging feels increasingly fragile, Hula offers a quiet reminder that the colors we wear do not define our uncertainty; they illuminate our evolution. And somewhere, between the shifting shades and the places we rediscover, the truest version of home begins to emerge. 

 Availability: 

Under the Koa Tree, by L. R Rodrigues 

Amazon: https://a.co/d/02LBEtft 

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/under-the-koa-tree-l-r-rodrigues/1148538716