Dear Friends ~ Since people have such diverse personalities and ways of engaging, it is good that there are likewise many paths to contemplation, many doorways into silence. Two practices that may be nurturing to some are watercolor painting and visio divina. Watercolor painting may seem at first glance like an art project for the grandchildren or a medium only for the fine arts. However, painting as a mindfulness practice can stop the mind from racing, help focus attention on the present moment, and allow one to listen— it can become an exploration for the soul. Watercolors do not yield easily to control—rather they invite play and observation. One can perceive the hue and texture of the colors, but it is the water that gives them movement, light and life; a bit like seeing ourselves as the paint and the Spirit as water. When you allow the dynamic interaction between paint and water to flow without constraint, shapes and images can emerge in unexpected and illuminating ways. Visio divina is another reflective practice that invites a conversation with a work of art in a format similar to lectio divina. One spends time first really looking—what do you see? what draws you in and why? Then you begin to wonder what this piece of art has to say to you at this moment in your life. What does it touch in you, what does it illuminate for you? What might you want to ponder, for example, about light and darkness in Rembrandt's "Philosopher in Meditation" or Georgia O'Keefe's "From the Lake No. 1"? Both watercolor painting and visio divina are invitations to see with the heart and perhaps even to learn something new about oneself and the Divine.
I gather this garment
Of silence about me,
Stillness that used to be
Threatening, its needles
Of fear lurking,
Probing wounds of my past scars to my psyche.
Now in the hands of Love
These needles have knitted
A silence so beautiful
That nothing
Can hurt. I draw skeins
Of silence with this healing garment about me,
As its stitches permeate
The crevices of my soul
Whispering, Peace.
Be still—and know:
Now all that would harm you
Is knitted to warm you.