Tag Archives: God

Lent 7

SAMSUNG DIGITAL CAMERA

This is not some witless nothing, weak and insipid, a god with rheumy eyes and brittle bones. This is a power, raw and mighty, a majesty undreamt of and a fist, if it chooses to curl, that could shatter the earth with one blow. Do not mistake slowness for indecision, it is gravitas. Do not imagine frailty, there is a core of fibrous strength that reaches across nebulae without blinking. This is not a feeble God, who holds together all that is.

Art and text © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2018

170. Rainbow – Colour Conclusions

rainbow

One of my favourite films is The Wizard of Oz. I loved it as a child, and waited eagerly for Dorothy’s world to change from black and white to full Technicolor. In some ways, I feel that this is how God changes our sight when we start to practise contemplation. Things become richer, brighter, fuller. I struggle now to process even a tiny bit of the loveliness I see all around me. Colour is a quality that evokes emotions, memories, connections all over the place. Each one contains a myriad of hues, and the spectrum could be divided ad infinitum, and its colours mixed into thousands of shades, as the paint catalogues constantly sell us, with their exotic sounding names.

Colour is how God has painted the universe, and I don’t know about you, but it never ceases to make my heart leap.

Next we shall be looking at the power of imagination in our seeing.

text and photo © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2017

Landscape of Love 99: Botanical Gardens (at Kew)

kew-gardens-500598_1280-t3-pixabay

Living museum, library of seeds, fruit so exotic climbing, pods forming, orchids blooming. Rainforest fronds frolic, unfurling against a glass ceiling that concentrates our puny sunshine into tropical beams. Horticultural multicultural magnificence. Immigrants thrive here, hothoused and cossetted, whilst outside the natives wave lavender lances and mint spears in the fresh English air. Tourists buzz in and out of the flowers, seeing and believing that all can live happily together in tempered, temperature-controlled glass houses and luscious lawns, if all stones are used only for drainage, and writing in the sand, never, ever, for throwing.

© Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2016

Photo from Pixabay

 

Landscape of Love 97: Churchyard

97 graveyard-1417871_1280 drippycat pixabay

Ancient of Days, yew circles the holy ground and stands sacred guard. Her hollowness disguises fullness, and even her dank rotten places are teeming with abundant life; jewelled scarabs and luminescent fungi adorn the lightning wounds and tend the darkness. Toothed fort of the dead, domino headstones re-etched by lichen look ready to fall after centuries of marking mounds of mourning. And life, undeterred, springs up in grasses and buttercups, golden grails full of dew, bluebells ringing out the hours, a carpet of prayer covering the crypt.

 

© Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2016

Photo from Pixabay