Tag Archives: contemplation

Creating Encounter in Colour: Ocean

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Just as the ocean cries out in glorious Technicolour that she is not only blue, not only green, so I shout out to the world that cannot see who I am.  All of us are so much more! Can you not see the myriad of hues that curl under each rolling tide, that sing through the cells of one leaf, that rustle and hum in every emotion passing across my face?

Light and shadow wash over all things, creating tints with no name, and driving the machinations of artists’ colourmen, sweating over the alchemy that will never, no matter how hard they work, obtain true dawn-beach-gold. For who can mix a palette for every green in nature, or even on one tree? And who can capture the nuances of light and dark playing joyfully, dancing as dolphins, on the crest of one wave?

Holding the briefest of moments in our consciousness, were we to live forever, we would never exhaust the meditations dancing in the light.

Text and artwork © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt

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Creating Encounter in Colour: Dark Purple

 

Inner PeaceThe intricate patterns of the world cushion you, and fall away from you like fields under a rising hawk, as you close your eyes and head for another plane. The door is shut, and the ornate and frivolous are lost to you. Instead now the simplicity of semi-darkness will reveal its shapes and colours, as you sense the heaviness of draped eyelids and the feel the curve of world-weariness settling around the base of your inner eye.

Here is a dark purple iris place, now that your light is filtered by flesh and blood. Veins feed your imagination in a guided meditation and you are able to flush away the stress of life’s burdens into glands and ducts. To replace them comes a flow of peace, in soft magenta.

If you stay here long enough, cross-legged and calm, every breath aching with gratitude, you may beat away the butterfly distractions with gentle returns to centre, and start to grow roots into the good and quiet earth, humming softly with life. You may become so captivated by the velvet darkness that you will be ever more attracted to gravity, and yet lighter than the elements.

What soft light breaks into your stillness of mind and the awareness of every cell? And can you now, in the ruby pink melon-fleshed atmosphere, smile without using your lips, and sing of the unity you sense above, below and all around, without making a sound?

Above you, outside of you, a new focus forms, and rings clarity like a soft silver bell, echoing out.

 

Text © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt  Composite art by R R Wyatt  © used with permission.

Happy Easter!

I hope you have enjoyed this Lenten journey through my reflections, photos and art. Here we are on the day of Resurrection, and I wish you a very Happy Easter!

God bless you,

Keren x

 

Three Days Later

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Blood curdles into the grain

Mixes fresh with old

Responding, the sap sings

Though long dead and now discarded

Roughly hewn and unplaned

Yours the only carpenter’s hands

It has ever known

 

Sings then, and rises

Green shoots writhing

With untameable life

Curling, encircling the rusting nails

Budding in split beams

Filling the cracks with flowers

Rising from wooden wounds.

 

Art and text © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt

Lent 40: Easter Saturday

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Here you are again then, Lord, between the worlds. As from conception to birth, womb and tomb, you are sandwiched twixt life and death, neither one thing nor the other, and yet both at the same time. As yesterday, you span both east and west, height and depth, making the sign of the cross with your Spirit. Today with you in Paradise and at the same time hearing your voice and the rattle of your keys in the dungeon doors of hell, all encompassing, omnipresent, everywhere Love, you are. Thank God nowhere is safe from your unleashed, unstoppable Grace.

Art and text © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2018

Lent 38

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And on this day of all days you choose to waste your time washing our tired, pungent, dusty feet. Should a king stoop so low, and have his back bow down with all our ills? It does not seem right. And when we are sat, later, breaking your body further as bread, and drinking your blood down along with all those bitter herbs, the symbolism lost on us for now, shall we kick off our sandals under the table for a brief moment, and savour the rarity of soft, cleansed and sweet-smelling skin?

Art and text © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2018

Lent 37

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You always forfeit your right to be regal, and tinge everything with humour and sweet humility, as though to show us how wrong we are about everything. No Arabian stallion for you, but a small, stocky donkey, one such as your mother rode that fateful night. No gold and lilies, but palm branches, green and thrown down, life ready to be trampled. Every thorn bush you pass reminds you of the crown you will soon wear for us.

Art and text © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2018

Lent 36

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You are soft as velvet one moment, and all teeth and talons the next. I cannot tell when we shall see the dove or the eagle, or what will cause the lion to bare his teeth and snarl. Hypocrites seem to do it, or those calling themselves pure and righteous in your sight, when you said that not even you are good, but only the Father. Changeable face, unchanging heart, giving each exactly what is needed.

Art and text © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2018

Lent 34

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Happy is a word that rarely belongs here in the roar of the storm, in the eye of the hurricane. Can we, then, be content? With all that racket and all that spume? The salt water constantly crashing up into our eyes and ears? Perhaps not. But neither can we sit here on this surface and be bobbed about so furiously and hold onto anything, not faith, and certainly not our breakfast. So what may be done, and what peace may be found? The temptation is surely to dive into the water and drown our sorrows, falling into the deep sleep of silent waters. And yet you say, we may sleep here in the stern, curled up in cushions and coats, oblivious, and let you take the rudder. The answer then, is not peace, but trust.

Art and text © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2018 (“Wake,” in pastels, using a reference photo by Cindy Frendt with kind permission)

Lent 33

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Gifts from the sea are boiled or battered, carved or scraped, hung out to dry in the sun, or bleached on racks. Only the pearl is allowed to retain its shape, and must not be opened up, smashed, cooked, consumed, but instead, valued, held, set in gold.  What makes this globule of oozed protection precious?

Learning from oysters, perhaps we might see that the real beauty of the prize is the transformation of what pollutes us, the redemption of irritants, and that the glow of the pearl is not of this world, but is transfiguration.

Photo and text © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2018

Lent 27

Lent green

Limes sitting in a crystal bowl, catching the light in zigzags that refract through the glass, glancing off the zest in bounced pools of golden green. Here is a sacred thing of beauty that may be set before a queen, bounty from the tree of life, this glorious energy encapsulated in pitted orbs. Can you smell the viriditas, the freshness, these new mercies offered you every morning? All can be renewed. Take and eat, taste and see that the Lord is good.

Photo and text © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2018