The Tree of the Heavenly Way

When the time comes, when you hear the voice in your head,

when the light grows ever dim and the dark is at its darkest yet,

when the signs are there, the way will be lit, the path before you,  

Follow the furrow through the meadow, follow it to the very end,

till you come to the place where stands the tree of the celestial light.

Clasp its gnarled trunk and feel the communion of Earth with Heaven.

Let it lift you gently, let it raise you towards the light from above,

do not fear, do not fret, trust in its wondrous power of release.

It will bear you aloft, comfort and cradle you, lighten your soul,

embrace you in its mighty arms, caress you in its golden mane.

Up and up it will carry you, skyward towards the heavenly light,

you will be as the lightest of feathers, weightless and floating free.

Up and up, ever higher, till there's naught between you and the sky,

till the Heaven-sent spirit descends, flowing over you, body and soul

and wrests you from the gentle grasp of the tree of the celestial light,

to bear you still higher and higher, drawing you up to the firmament.

There you will pause, caught twixt Heaven and Earth, life and death

where the divine soul breaks free of its mortal prison and flutters

gliding through the invisible ether, on its last journey to the Eternal.

When the time comes, follow the furrow through the meadow,

until you come to the great golden tree of the heavenly way,

and there you will find the peace and the calm of abiding Grace

where Light banishes Darkness and where Heaven meets Earth. 

Beyond a bridge somewhere...

Beyond a bridge, that leads the way,

between tall and slender arching trees

that line a long and winding forest road,

there is a spot, they say, where light,

bursting thru with such force and focus,

with such palpable intensity and blaze,

has spawned effects defying nature's law,

reason, and the teachings of experience;

but more than this the rumours also speak

of a strange beam of wondrous flaming light

that, as though heaven-sent, swift descends

to wreak such magic on passing folk

who later speak of having felt a force,

of being swiftly borne aloft above the trees,

of looking down from high on all below,

held there as though by an unseen hand,

for a span of time as none are able to agree

until, as by some magic unknown to man,

they find themselves again on terra firma,

on the selfsame spot now dark in shade,

quite unable to make sense of that which

sense defies by any human measure known,

or any other means conceived to understand

the nature of the seemingly unnatural,

of a beam of blinding light that takes

and lifts and flings and holds quite still,

before it loosens, lets slide to freely flow

back to where moments before one stood

full bathed in the hush of a heavenly light.

The Return of Spring

Spring returns bright and fresh of face,

shedding light upon the waking earth,

inciting growth from dormant life,

pledging plenty after winter’s dearth.

Spring is here and nature’s stirring,

days are warmer, nights are milder;

timid shoots poke above the ground,

welcoming the beetle and the spider.

Skies are bluer, clouds are thinner,

the sun shines longer, ever brighter;  

there is a warm freshness in the air

that makes the human spirit lighter.

Daffodil and daisy, the crocus too,

decorate garden, field and every park,

and add welcome colour and beauty

to the song of the robin and the lark.

Spring is here and change is in the air,

with bud and blossom on bush and tree;

it’s time to mark the change of season,

to change our clothes and break out free!

Before me the Word...

Open wide the Bible rests upon its perch,

its pages full of ancient tales and teachings,

its heavy legacy grown heavier with time,

its mass more ponderous with the dust of age.

Before me, the Word of God, set down by man,

beside it a burning candle to illumine the Word,

around me the dense darkness of the void.

The Word, the Flame, the Light of the World.

I can go into that Light, embrace that Word,

or I can turn away and melt back into the dark.

There is no easy way, no choice free of doubt;

either way the path is long and winding,

and fraught with trials and tribulations.

The darkness, the candle flame, the stillness,

and in their midst the Word writ upon the page.

And a soft sweet holy chant born in my mind,

gently welling within me, gentle but strong,

fills me as I stand in the darkness before the Word

that illumines the Light that illumines the Word

that feeds the soul with the breath of the Spirit…

The Art of Leonid Afremov

THE subject of this blog is by way of a tribute to the work of the Jewish Russian artist, Leonid Afremov. I recently came upon his works of art online by accident and was immediately captivated by it. His art has blossomed since he left Russia for his ancestral homeland, Israel, and now he must be one of the most prolific and creative painters around, with a very distinctive style.

AFREMOV works in oil using a palette knife, not a paint-brush, to achieve striking and eye-catching visual effects,  and they certainly caught my eye! I suppose because the style of his artwork is very bold, very loud and very brash in many ways, you will either love it or hate it. One thing you cannot do is remain indifferent to it. I myself have fallen in love with its raw naked energy and that's why I am now sharing my passion for Afremov's art with you here.

APART from the strong use of a palette of bold colours that have an immediate impact on the viewer, one will easily perceive certain recurring themes: night-time scenes, long tree-lined avenues, kerbside lamp-posts lighting up the scene, lonely figures strolling on their own or as couples, and above all what I call the "wet look" everywhere. In a great number of Afremov's paintings it is either raining - umbrellas often bear witness to this - or it has been raining and the ground is sodden, often strewn with puddles. And this is where the light from the ubiquitous lamp-posts comes into its own as it is reflected back up off the stagnant rainwater or wet surface, producing a truly magical effect.

AS well as the all-pervasive rain theme in Afremov's art (and this is where he and I are in tune, since I love rain and its effects), and the failing light of day or eternal dusk, which enables him to exploit the effects of lamplight, there is also an air of loneliness or desolation in his pictures. A lone figure or couple is seen walking down a street or avenue otherwise deserted. They exude loneliness and isolation. This may be deliberate on the part of Afremov or just a consequence of his style of art but either way the effect is of a certain urban desolation in this strange twilight world where it is nearly always night and nearly always raining.

FOR me such recurring and somewhat haunting themes combined with the lavish use of striking colours, and the bold strokes of the palette knife that lay the paint on thickly, are a feast for the eye and the soul and I am very glad I stumbled across the art of Leonid Afremov. His fascinations are also mine and he has managed to put these into his art time and time again but in a thousand-and-one combinations which has resulted in some truly remarkable paintings.

THE above examples of his art are just a tiny sample of his vast range and the selection I've made is inevitably somewhat arbitrary and invidious, especially as he has produced such a large body of work, but they do give a good idea of what I'm talking about. For those who wish to acquaint themselves further with the art of this amazingly gifted artist, I suggest you put his name in an online search and there will be no shortage of results that pop up. And for those with some extra cash, it is possible to buy many of his works on the Internet. So happy hunting!

A Carpet of Gold

Isn't the above scene absolutely gorgeous? There's no mistaking the season. A golden carpet of fallen leaves proclaims that it is autumn and it is the dying manifestation of the final days of warm weather before the harsh winter begins to set in. Though the ground is strewn with withering leaves, the trees still have many to shed, but it will now be just days before they completely lose their autumnal coat of gold and stand bare in readiness for the cold winter winds and rains and, who knows, even snow.

I took this picture one late afternoon at the beginning of November. The weather was still pleasant though there was a slight chill in the air. The low rays of the sinking sun cast a magical spell on the park, bathing it in soft mellow tones of yellow and gold, highlighting the gold of the leaves even more. And, as one see, there was hardly a soul in sight, most people still at work or at home having their afternoon tea, or maybe not, but whatever the reason, it was quiet and soothing and lovely to see.

After taking these photos and a few others, I just stood still for a moment, bathed in the golden light of the sun, enjoying the vista around me, revelling in the silence, and breathing in the freshening air of the afternoon as it slowly turned into evening. This was the big city and yet in this quiet corner of Nature I could easily have been in the depths of the countryside were it not for the sight of the houses that lined the perimeter of this green space. Gradually, with the waning sun, the rich autumnal shades and colours began to merge into the darkening background, and it was time for me to leave. But I had captured the images I had come for (two of which are shown above).