A product of the blunt-speaking east coast vernacular, Iris Miller is viewed as pushy here in the circles hugging the far western edge. Her secret desire to become a peacemaker, a celebrated artist, and “the power behind the throne,” keeps on leading her up blind alleys. That persistent dream—saving the world while enveloped in an art-filled union with the ultimate man—is a brass ring hanging just beyond reach, its simple circle obscured by her recurring obsessions with mover-and-shaker men whose sweeping displays brew a heady aphrodisiac. But her buried ambition remains: she wants to achieve greatness as a peacemaker and cross-cultural bridge. She wants to be something new under the sun and frame the tapestry of her life map with light. She wants to matter.
The outer forces straightjacketing Iris mirror her own inner war. Determined to find peace, she travels into her past to find core reasons for her battle with life and then circles sideways into the American Indian world and the seething center of Israel/Palestine, glimpsing flashes of truth in those dancing mirrors.
Iris finds a shortcut to her salvation in color therapy, reclaiming her muddied colored edges. With her missing colors in place, Iris finally moves beyond the caricature of a visionary and sets her luminous rainbow free to pour its healing elixir into the world. And then the right man reappears.
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