The 60-Second Sabbath

On Creativity and Art

I enjoy an occasional provocative quote,
like this one from author and poet May Sarton:

    "It is the masculine in a woman
        and the feminine in a man
    that proves creative."

And further:

    "Every artist is androgynous."

I have long held that God fully represents
all qualities that we associate
with both the feminine and the masculine--
    everything it means to be all genders
        (more than two,
        as we are now coming to understand).
When Genesis tells you
that God created you in the image of God's own self,
    male and female,
it means that, you, like God, are some blend of all such qualities.

All cultures try to restrict 
what it is okay to say and do
    if you identify as male.

All cultures have their rules, spoken or not,
that tell you how it is acceptable to be
    if you identify as female.

So what Sarton may be suggesting
    is that your most unique and powerful creative urges
may be flowing from that place
    of forbidden identification,
that place of tension that many in society want to squelch,
    because they neither understand--nor want to acknowledge--
their own ambiguity.

Your creativity flows
    from that place within you
where the feminine and masculine work together
    to make meaning,
the place where your essential self strives for expression...
    full, integrated expression.

Creativity breaks through the roles;
    art is subversive to the degree it says,

    "Screw that;
        I can't not be who I am,
    despite how uncomfortable some may feel.
        Who I am affirms the immense, fertile heart of the Creator.
    We are partners, Creator and I.
    Get out of our way." 

So I might paraphrase Sarton and assert:

    "When it comes to creativity,
        everything we truly are--
    regarding gender and everything else--
        is accessible, permissible and necessary."

and therefore:

    "Every artist is not only androgynous,
        but also free."

Text and image © 2018 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.
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The Practice of Nothing

Why are silence and solitude,
    meditation and mindfulness,
essential (or at very least, enormously helpful)
    for the life of faith?

Because, when practiced with regular intention,
    they become the practice of nothing,
the clearing of the mind
    of image, emotion, thought,
allowing the mind to be transformed.

The practice of nothing
    opens the door
for God to be everything.

God tells us
    that God is spirit
and is to be worshipped (known, experienced)
    in spirit,
not, please note,
    in mind.

"Nothing pleases God more
    than a mind free from distractions."
        (Christian mystic, Albertus Magnus)

Text and image © 2018 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.
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Playmate

God is my playmate.

God invites the child within me
to marvel at the sights and sounds of my life,
    its textures and colors,
    the touch of those I love,
    the darkness of my midnight bedroom,
    the flavors of cinnamon, cilantro, curry and cocoa,
    the mystery of death...

God says to me,

    Come with me
        and we will undertake a wonderful adventure,
    chosen just for you.

    We will travel the universe,
        see things you've never imagined,
    cavort with angels and ghosts, saints and heroes.

    Let's play, you and me,
        laugh and run and disrupt,
    eat ice cream with fudge and sprinkles,
        drop exhausted at the end of the day.

    Let's joy together!

God is my playmate.

(inspired by the Christian mystic, Mechtild of Magdeburg)

Text and image © 2018 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.
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I Am God

 "I am God,"
    she whispered to the nurse.

"Of course you are, dear,"
    responded the nurse,
scanning the wires and tubes that connected her
    to various monitors and pumps,
"but if it's okay,
    I'll keep calling you Mrs. Carlson."
He tucked the sheet in along her side.
    "Are you warm enough?"

She nodded.
"I am God," she whispered again.

He paused and smiled,
"I'll be back in a bit."

Her son,
    observing all of this from a chair in the corner of the room,
watched his mother,
    diminished,
    fading.
He knew exactly what she meant,
    knew that her claim to divinity was neither delusion nor arrogance,
    knew, in fact, that it was the direct opposite--
        a confession of utter humility.

She, in her deep faith,
    had arrived at the point
where ego had died
    and what remained was her essential self,
the self at one with God:

    I and the Father are one.

    Nevertheless, it is not I who live,
        but Christ.

She had surrendered,
    relinquished,
become utter emptiness,
    and in that emptiness,
only God remained.

"I am God,"
    she said more loudly.

He stood;
    she reached for him;
he stepped to the bedside,
    took her hand,
    pressed it against his cheek.

"I know," he said.
"I see it; 
    I feel it--
        oneness,
        fullness,
        love,
        beauty.
Indeed,
    you are God."

She closed her eyes,
    sighed back into the pillow,
into the holy,
    into her truest self.

(inspired by Sufi mystic Jalaluddin Rumi)

Text and image © 2018 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.
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What the Mystic Knows

The mystic
    understands with the heart
what the most learned scholar
    (most powerful politician,
    wealthiest business person,
    strongest nation,
    most influential teacher)
cannot understand with the head.

The mystic flows
    on God's river-like generosity;
the mystic basks
    in God's sun-like affection;
the mystic anchors
    in God's earth-like hospitality.

(inspired by Sufi mystic Mu'in'ud-Din Chisti)

Text and image © 2018 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.
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Nothing but God

You are not kept from God
    by that which is not God,
because there is nothing but God.

What keeps you from God
    is the illusion
that there is something other than God.

(inspired by Sufi mystic Ahmad Ibn Ata'allah)

Text and image © 2018 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.
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Love Is Come Again

Daffodils push through the snow,
    open like sunshine against a background of white.

    Love is come again.

The red bud blooms purple
    against a pure-blue, spring sky.

    Love is come again.

Spring's pastels replace
    winter's dark blues, greens and grays.

    Love is come again.

Our hidden Alleluias return to worship.

    Love is come again.

Text and image © 2018 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.
Visit PhotosByDirk.com for fine-art photography.
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God Packs Creation with Color

Welcome, Spring!

The days lengthen and warm.
The green shoots of the tulips
    shoulder up through the rocks,
sometimes--literally--
    moving rocks out of their way.

I admire their determination
    as they reach for the sun.

Then, one day--BAM!!--
    red blooms,
bright red buds and flowers appear,
    all the brighter and redder against the monochrome shades of the rocks,
the winter-dry brown of the lawn,
    red like blood,
    red like the fire trucks of my youth,
a pure and primary red,
a red that demands attention like a trumpet fanfare.

I'm drawn several times each day
    to walk out on the front steps just to stare at them,
admire their vibrancy and tenacity.
The won't last long--
    a couple of weeks at best,
and there are only about a dozen,
    but they stand proudly,
assertive and joyful.

God packs creation with color,
    some bright and exciting,
    some subdued and subtle.

Color impacts us way beyond awareness.
What colors are your favorites and why?
How can color affect your mood? your thoughts?

And my red tulips?
What do they tell me of God?
That God encourages our tenacity?
    our vibrancy?
    our assertiveness?
    our struggle through life's rocks toward the warmth of the sun?
    our resiliency?
    our beauty?
    our desire to stand out, proud and complete,
        in the occasional gray season's of life?
And that God is colorful,
    alive,
    at times in my face,
    inviting me to stop whatever I'm doing,
    step out the front door,
    and simply attend.

Welcome, Spring!

Text and image © 2018 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.
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The Meaning of Resurrection

This is the meaning
of resurrection:

    suffer and rise...
    suffer and rise...
    suffer and rise...

    wounds to scars...
    wounds to scars...
    wounds to scars...

    despair to hope...
    despair to hope...
    despair to hope...

Over and over and over again...

Text and image © 2018 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.
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What's for Lunch?

Jesus appears to his followers
    soon after resurrection day.
They--understandably--
    are startled,
freaked.

Dead guy comes back...
    not your typical mid-day morning.

And in the middle of this
    unnerving, remarkable scene,
what does Jesus do?

He asks for food:

"Yes, yes, I'm here and alive,
    flesh and blood,
not a ghost,
    etc., etc.

"But what do you have to eat?
    Seriously--
it's been a rough few days;
    what's for lunch?"

Utterly ordinary question:
    welcome to the new unreal reality,
grounded in the everyday,
    in rising and sitting,
in walking and talking,
    in eating and sleeping.

He comes back to address their fear and confusion,
    their dropped jaws and shaking hands.

    But first:
"What's to eat?
    Lord Almighty, I'm hungry.
These meals we share
    (and will continue to share)
these times together,
    these simple, daily moments--
these mean everything to me.
    This is where I feed you,
and you feed me.
    This is what matters."

What's for lunch?

Text and image © 2018 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.
Visit PhotosByDirk.com for fine-art photography.
Visit The60SecondSabbath.com, where spirit and image merge.