I heard the call of the Unknowable One. They left a trail of scarlet breadcrumbs For my soul to follow, Because I was lost. Because my heart was baked hard like the stony desert. Yes, it was The Unknowable One Who scattered their hearts and flowers across my path. "There's beauty even here", I heard them say (when the ocean of my thoughts subsided a little). "I have no way of understanding. This new country is unknown." I replied. And so, they enfolded me in mother-arms; I was cocooned there. Nothing else to do But be carried by the Unknowable One.
She can gather up all the fragments. All the failed lives And all lives have failed. We all cast a shadow. I don't know the magic she weaves, where tears become sacred drops Like myrrh bleeding from a tree. And the upside down way feeble knees and broken feet are the very vehicle by which God travels the Earth. They say our hearts must crack open like a seed. Head first in the ground we go. Then we become like that Myrrh tree, with branches too beautiful to be seen with human eyes. Our senses have become dulled, through fighting endless battles with fickle tides. One day we will see the illumination. With clear eyes, see how our wings have formed, how love has transformed our lives. For love has shaped us. And love tends to us, from seed to sapling to tree. With branches like arms reaching upward, and our blood, our tears are Myrrh.
I made this little video in collaboration with Kylie and Sammy Horner, with lyrics by Beki Hemmingway. Artwork is mine and is an amalgamation of older pieces, some from my ‘Angels and Archetypes’ collection from 2019, and a couple of paintings from my most recent series “Butterflies With Tattered Wings’.
I was participating in an ‘Introduction to Trinitarian Theology’ course with Baxter Kruger, and part of the content was to explore the Mary, the mother of Jesus and the very significant role she played in the story of redemption. She is the link between us and the humanity of the Christ. I hope you enjoy.
On days that are cloying, When my ears protest with ringing When my brain has decided to blanket itself with a heavy haze, Blurring my vision And Aching my bones... The Spirit and I agreed We should sit together and watch fish swim. And side by side there, just try to be. She tells me my scattered, anxious thoughts Will entice me To coil up all my energy and release it like a spring; Only to find I become weaker still, Snapped and broken. I tell her: "I'm glad you are ok with weakness. And I'm glad that's where you work best. I'm complex like a fractal, And you knit everything together so well Even when it looks so feeble and fragile." So, she sets aside these little pond days for me, Where we spend some time gazing at the fish, And I'm learning how to just be, I in Spirit and Spirit in me. My grace is enough; it’s all you need. My strength comes into its own in your weakness. 2 Corinthians 12:9 MSG
She is untamed chaos Fierce in her protective gaze. An enigma, A paradox, A joyful mystic, A volatile conductress. Surrender to the wild Goose Melt into her terrible embrace. She beckons you to cast off from the shore. Your feeble tin boat bobbing in the wind, the humming splash of water it's keeper. Let it float untethered. Let it drift and wobble. Toss aside your anchor; Abandon it, discard it, into the waiting sea. Surrender to the Wild Goose. 'Till the land becomes a distant haze; And you are given over to the spiralling adventure, the swooping whirlwind Under her Great Wings.
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