Speckled rainbow breathing water and knowing better than we do how to let it flow, gills gently moving in and out. Skin that reminds me of the surface of puddles settled under cars, driven off and leaving swathes of oily colour. Did God paint you to remind us of his promises, made to all life, no exceptions? Or have you just absorbed so much of the spectrum in your swim, bathing in pools kissed by sunlight, that it cannot help but ooze out?
Gliding in places we cannot find, secret eddies and glittering ponds fringed with the long tears of the willow that tinge and tickle your spotted hide with olive green, you spend your days gilded by mystery. You flick your fronded tail at disgruntled anglers, speeding past them with your raspberry stripes, making me glad we are now fishers of people, and can let you wend your rivery way onwards, supple and gleaming.
© Keren Dibbens-Wyatt Photo from Pixabay
I hold in my hand a ball of flame so hot and fiery, so vast and powerful, that it is rightly to be marvelled at. It is all your troubles, my beloved, called into flame. For just as a candle melts away as it burns, matter will always be transformed into different energy.
In the same way, all your sorrows and tears will become light for the world. Inside the white-hot sphere, at the centre of this new sun, swirls the rainbow that makes up the spectrum of your sufferings, and the hues hewn from hurt become a dance of joy, colliding colours in a kaleidoscope of changing shapes and patterns the universe has always known.
You read the desert father’s advice, “Why not become flame?” and you heeded it. Rest your weariness here in the palm of my hand, and grow with my powerful love even as you are rightly consumed.
Text © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt Composite art by R R Wyatt © used with permission.
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