Reclaiming the Centre by Keren Dibbens-Wyatt

For most of the past fortnight I’ve been fasting. Not from food, because I’m far too much of a wimp and being chronically ill with blood sugar issues, it would probably not be the best idea in the world. No, I’ve been on a writing fast. Most people go on retreats to write more, not less. But I found that I was putting a great deal of pressure on myself to write every day and whilst I was getting some done, it wasn’t flowing. It was starting to feel like a slog, like crossing something off a to-do list instead of something wonderful.

So I just stopped.

Over the course of the days I did not write, I realised some important things. I had been feeling for a while that I had lost the central focus for my work. Although I had a million* different, amazing, God-given projects, my heart wasn’t in it. It felt like a long, hard, slow, dirgeful trudge, with just the odd glimmer of grace here and there. I decided to let that go and start over. I prayed for the Lord to show me whether writing was the be all and end all to my life. Was there something else I was meant to be doing? Something else I was meant to be being?

I realised, first off, that I was tired. Extreme exhaustion is the main symptom of the illness I live with, so separating different kinds of tiredness is often hard to do. But yes, stepping away from my other life partner, Microsoft Word, showed me that I was tired. I needed a break.

Secondly, I realised I had invested too much of myself in my identity as a writer. It had become bigger than just being what I do when I can. I had begun to believe that not writing would make me a failure, that I needed to be productive to be worth anything. Refraining from putting fingers to keyboard gave me space to remember that this is just simply not true, that God is my centre and he loves me regardless, just as I am, whatever I achieve (or don’t).

And torn away from worrying about words, I found myself even in my contemplative prayer, less concerned about journalling, and more able to let the oughts and shoulds fall away. I fell deeper into God and was shown powerfully who I am. I found myself meditating by altars in my imagination, and kneeling on grass kissing the ground in my visions of understanding. This is where I rediscovered my centre. I felt like the sparrow of Psalm 83 who nests by the altar and lays her young there. I knew that the absolute bedrock of my identity is as a worshipper. Everything I do, everything I am, springs from that truth. Like Jonah, if someone asks who I am, I can say, “I worship the Lord, the God of heaven, who made the sea and the dry land.” (Jonah 1 : 9 partial, NIV)

So much of my writing and art is inspired by creation, by nature, that it just whacked me in the face (sort of like a friendly spiritual frying pan) this obvious truth, that I am creative out of worship. I am worshipping the God of all things when I write about him, or gaze in wonder at a snail lifting its tentacles to me, or when I am painting a wild white wolf. I am adoring him. I am saying with my words, my heart, my pastels, “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty, maker of heaven and earth.”

And suddenly, this taken on board, along with the wisdom gained that it might be better to take a break sometimes than slog on, I smile, and I feel like writing again.

*okay, but sometimes it feels like that many.

Keren Dibbens-Wyatt is a disabled writer and artist with a passion for poetry, mysticism, story and colour. Her writing features regularly on spiritual blogs and in literary journals. Her full-length publications include Garden of God’s Heart and Whale Song: Choosing Life with Jonah. She has a new book, Recital of Love, coming out with Paraclete Press in 2020. Keren lives in South East England and is mainly housebound by her illness.

Photo from Pixabay