Psychology highlights the three colors used by resilient, persevering people

The first time I noticed it was on a dawn flight into Sydney. The cabin lights were low, a muted amber hush. Outside, the world was still half-asleep, but the horizon burned with that fierce, impossible band of colour — a deep navy fading into bruised purple, then exploding into orange and gold. People were slumped in their seats, earbuds in, blankets askew. Yet a handful of faces were turned to the window, eyes wide open, quietly taking it in. They looked tired, like everyone else. But they also looked… awake in some other way. Present. Steady. Almost stubbornly hopeful.

Later, reading through research on colour psychology and resilience, that memory struck me. Because it turns out: the colours we gravitate toward, surround ourselves with, and wear on our skin and clothes can echo something deeper about how we handle life’s rough edges. Psychologists have been circling around one intriguing idea — that resilient, persevering people tend to lean towards three particular colours: blue, green, and yellow.

Not in some woo-woo, “wear this and your life will magically improve” way. More in the quiet, grounded sense that these colours mirror emotional states we call on when we refuse to give up: calm focus, steady growth, and warm, stubborn optimism.

The Quiet Power of Blue: The Colour of “Keep Going”

Think about where blue shows up in an Australian day. The endless vault of sky over the Nullarbor. The deep navy of Bass Strait on a windy afternoon. The tiled shimmer of an old suburban pool, water flickering across the bottom. Blue is everywhere here — and it’s no accident that many resilient people are drawn to it.

Psychologists often describe blue as a “regulation colour”: a shade that supports calm, clarity, and mental endurance. When researchers ask people to choose colours that help them think, plan, or concentrate, blue consistently rises to the top. It’s the colour of focus without the frantic edge; of effort that doesn’t burn itself out.

Imagine an office worker in Melbourne, finishing a long day, then flipping open their laptop again after dinner to work on a side project — a business, a course, a dream. There’s a dark blue mug beside them, a navy hoodie wrapped around their shoulders, a desktop background of the ocean off Rottnest. Are those things making them resilient? Not exactly. But they’re part of the emotional scaffolding — reminding the body to breathe, to settle, to stay.

Resilience is rarely dramatic. It’s not the big speech at halftime or the movie montage set to soaring music. It’s more often the slow, blue-toned choice: send one more job application, draft one more chapter, attend one more physio appointment. Blue steadies the nervous system — heart rate slows, blood pressure dips, the brain can think again. In that calmer space, perseverance feels possible, not punishing.

Sydney psychologists sometimes recommend small “blue anchors” for clients who struggle with anxiety: a blue journal, a navy cushion, blue light filters on their screens after dark. Not because blue cures anything, but because it quietly signals safety and spaciousness. For resilient people, that sense of mental room to move is critical. You can’t keep going if your inner world feels like a crowded train at peak hour.

Green: The Colour of Slow, Stubborn Growth

If blue is the breath that steadies you, green is the ground you stand on.

Walk a track in the Blue Mountains after rain. The world smells of eucalyptus and wet soil. Ferns curve over the path, moss thick on sandstone, every shade of green layered on top of another — deep bottle green, pale lime, olive, jade. Nothing looks rushed. And yet, everything is growing. That’s the secret logic of green: it doesn’t shout, but it never stops.

Psychologists link green with restoration and renewal. In experiments, just looking at images of green spaces — parks, forests, open bushland — can improve attention, lift mood, and reduce mental fatigue. It’s sometimes called the “recovery colour”: the hue your brain associates with food, safety, and long-term survivability.

Resilient people tend to understand, instinctively or deliberately, that persistence is actually a cycle of effort and recovery, not a straight line of constant grind. Green-thinking says: Rest isn’t weakness. It’s refuelling. And our country is full of quiet, green sanctuaries that support that mindset — a shady park in Brisbane, a river trail in Hobart, a community garden in Adelaide, scrub on the edge of Perth where the city noise thins out.

Even indoors, we recreate that green sense of growth. Houseplants clustered on a windowsill. A fiddle-leaf fig leaning towards the light in a share house. The herbs on the kitchen bench, stubbornly clinging to life between forgotten waterings. Every new shoot is a reminder: growth can pause, then begin again. You can lose leaves and still be alive.

Resilient people often surround themselves with these small living witnesses. A teacher in Darwin buying new plants after every rough school term. A tradie in Geelong building a vegie patch out the back as a project between jobs. These weren’t random aesthetic choices; they were quiet declarations: I’m still here, and I still believe in tomorrow.

Yellow: The Colour of Stubborn Optimism

Then there’s yellow — the most divisive of the three. Some people love it; others flinch. But think about when yellow shows up most fiercely in Australia: the hard burn of midday sun on an outback road. The blinding glare on a cricket pitch in January. The canola fields of Western Australia, so bright they look almost unreal. Yellow doesn’t ask politely for attention; it storms the room.

In psychology, yellow is often associated with optimism, confidence, and energy. Not the naive “everything will be fine” kind of optimism, but the grittier version: “It might be tough, but I’ll find a way.” Resilient, persevering people aren’t necessarily cheerful all the time — many of them have known deep grief, failure, or hardship. But they carry a small, defiant streak of yellow inside them: a refusal to give in to permanent darkness.

Think of a small business owner in regional New South Wales repainting a battered shopfront in warm yellow after flooding. Or an athlete in Perth lacing up yellow runners after months of rehab. Or a university student in Canberra using yellow sticky notes to cover their wall with goals, reminders, and encouragements. Yellow says: I’m betting on light.

Psychologists sometimes talk about “learned optimism” — the skill of deliberately reframing setbacks. It’s not denial; it’s training the brain to ask different questions: instead of “Why is this happening to me?” it becomes “What can I do with this?” Yellow behaviour looks like sending one more message after being ghosted, trying again for a course after being rejected, turning a redundancy into a chance to retrain. The feeling may not be sunshine-bright, but the direction is.

Even wearing a flash of yellow — earrings, socks, a surfboard, a phone case — can act as a tiny reminder of that internal stance: I’m allowed to hope, even when the news, the weather, or the economy suggests otherwise.

How These Colours Show Up in Real Australian Lives

Most of us don’t walk around thinking, “I am now expressing my resilience through strategic colour choice.” We just pick the things we’re drawn to. But when psychologists step back and look at patterns, they see something interesting: people who cope well with stress, who bounce back more often than they break, are more likely to surround themselves with blues, greens, and yellows — especially in spaces where they work, think, or recover.

Here’s a way to picture how these colours play together in daily life across Australia:

Colour	Psychological Role	Everyday Aussie Examples
Blue	Calm focus, mental endurance	Navy workwear, ocean-themed phone wallpapers, blue mugs at the office, twilight runs along the coast
Green	Recovery, growth, stability	Houseplants, backyard lawns, bushwalks, community gardens, green textiles at home
Yellow	Hope, energy, confidence	Sunny kitchen decor, yellow stationery, hi-vis work gear, bold surfboards and beach towels

Notice how many of those examples are gentle, almost unremarkable. A blue doona cover. A green reusable coffee cup. A yellow notebook. Small props in the background. But resilience is mostly about what happens quietly in the background.

Designing a More Resilient Colour Environment

You don’t need to repaint your entire house or wardrobe, and you definitely don’t need to throw out anything black or red. The point isn’t restriction; it’s awareness. If you live in a small flat in Brisbane or a share house in Adelaide, you can still tune your environment to support your inner grit.

Try this as a simple experiment:

• Add one blue item to your main work or study space — a mouse pad, pen, notebook, mug, or background on your screen. Notice whether you feel a fraction more settled when you’re under pressure.
• Add one living green thing to the room where you decompress — a hardy plant, a balcony herb, even a weekly bunch of greenery from the markets.
• Add one hopeful yellow element to any place linked to goals — the fridge door, the bathroom mirror, the front of your diary. Use it for affirmations, reminders, or a photo tied to something you’re working towards.

Then pay quiet attention over a couple of weeks. When your boss snaps, or your kids melt down, or Centrelink holds you on the line yet again, notice which space you walk into, where your eyes land, what colour meets you first. Sometimes, that tiny moment of regulation or encouragement is the difference between snapping and breathing, between giving up and trying one more time.

Resilience in a Sunburnt Country

Living in Australia means getting used to extremes — heatwaves, floods, fires, economic swings, and the quiet, personal storms no one sees on the nightly news. Resilience here isn’t an abstract ideal; it’s something you watch in your neighbours during bushfire season, or in farmers staring down another year of drought, or in nurses finishing yet another double shift.

Look again at those scenes, and you’ll often find our three colours. Blue in the SES uniforms, in the water volunteers hand out at evacuation centres. Green in the first shoots after a fire, in the replanting of gardens and community spaces. Yellow in hi-vis vests working through the night, in handwritten signs outside damaged shops saying, “We’ll be back soon.”

There’s something comforting about recognising that your own private battles — the break-up, the debt, the diagnosis, the dream that won’t quite launch — are held within the same palette. You’re not alone; you’re part of a larger, deeply human pattern. Blue: calm. Green: growth. Yellow: hope. Again and again.

Bringing the Colours Home

Next time you catch a flight at dawn, or stand on a headland at sunset, or drive a country road with the radio low and the sky doing wild things above you — notice the colours. The deep, anchoring blue. The steady, living green. The fierce, defiant yellow. Then look at your own spaces the way a psychologist might: what stories are your colours telling about how you cope, how you recover, how you keep saying yes to tomorrow?

Resilience isn’t something you either have or don’t. It’s a set of habits, supports, and tiny daily choices that make it easier to stand back up. Colour won’t replace therapy, community, or practical help. But it can become part of your toolkit — a quiet ally in the background, reminding your nervous system of what your deeper self already knows.

That you are capable of calm, even when everything feels loud. That you can grow back, even after being cut down. That you are allowed to carry a bright, unreasonable belief that the story isn’t over yet.

Somewhere inside you, there is blue, holding steady. There is green, still reaching for the light. There is yellow, refusing to go out. Psychology just gives those hues a name. The rest — the living of them — is entirely yours.

Frequently Asked Questions

Do these colours actually make you more resilient, or is it just symbolism?

The colours themselves don’t magically create resilience, but they can influence mood, focus, and stress levels. That emotional shift makes it easier to use resilient behaviours — like problem-solving, pausing before reacting, or trying again after a setback.

Is this science or just pop psychology?

There is genuine research in colour psychology and environmental psychology showing how colours affect mood, arousal, and cognition. However, responses to colour are also personal and cultural, so these patterns are tendencies, not rigid rules.

What if I don’t like blue, green, or yellow?

That’s fine. You don’t need to force them. You can start with very small touches (a screen background, a plant, a sticky note) or lean into other colours that make you feel calm, grounded, or hopeful. The goal is the emotional state, not strict adherence to a palette.

Does this apply equally across all Australians?

No. First Nations cultures, migrant communities, and individuals all have their own colour meanings and stories. The blue–green–yellow pattern is a broad psychological trend, not a universal law. Your personal history with a colour matters a lot.

How can I use this idea with kids or teens?

You might create a “calm corner” with blues and greens, use yellow for encouragement notes, or let them choose items in those colours for school or study spaces. The key is involving them in the choices and linking colours to how they want to feel, not imposing a scheme on them.