I’M NUTS ABOUT COLOUR and the abstract, even as I’m dotty, too, about poetry and the precise. Both, in quite different ways, leave plenty of room for liberality, for openness to life’s gifts in oneself and in others, for generosity of spirit. I wonder how many images will present themselves to you “out of” the abstract blending above? I enjoyed creating them – but that enjoyment is almost as nothing compared to the enjoyment I’ll gain from returning, and from the never-ending procession of “new” works that will arise therefrom.
I shall try to carve out time in 2014 for a bit more artwork than has been afforded in the past year. In like fashion I’ve embarked upon a new handwritten journalling project for the year. I’m resolved (how effectively remains to be seen, of course) to hand-write a pondered poem-a-day into a specially purchased journal. I hope that the act will facilitate a daily pondering and contemplation. And there’ll be the benefit, in the future, of a slightly more personal than usual returning.
And all this “returning” helps maintain a constant communion with loved ones and with friends near and far, known and unknown, in this world and in other worlds. This returning, this abiding remembering, brings me daily to the constant prayer – a cantus firmus in my life – for an end to a few more of the harsher divisions and judgments still insisted upon by some members of our humankind – even whilst being thankful for progress made in the past year. If I’m nuts about colour, and dotty about poetry, I’m absolutely besotted with my conviction that the “will” of God the Source of Life is to draw all persons, all created things, always and everywhere into Unity. Tomorrow I’m hoping to see “Mandela: The Long Walk to Freedom” – so doubtless there’ll be more from me on all of the above thereafter.
Meanwhile, my Alice Meynell post of New Year’s Eve has touched something in my soul several dozen times since then:
… in the eternities,
Doubtless we shall compare together, hear
A million alien Gospels, in what guise
He trod the Pleiades, the Lyre, the Bear.
O, be prepared, my soul!
To read the inconceivable, to scan
The myriad forms of God those stars unroll
When, in our turn, we show to them a Man.