“The Winds of Change & the Return of the Colibrí”, oil on masonite, 39x50in, 2024
Let me first begin my thoughts with a poem that flooded right out of me one quiet Sunday as I was pondering the composition to my painting above. I’m no poet, but these words rushed out of my mind like a flood! I haven’t refined the rawness that is this poem, but here you go, in case you find it enlightening.
Note: “colibrí” is Spanish for “hummingbird”.
Up on the hill and under The Great Palm Tree,
Tell me Deborah, what did you foresee?
I have entered the threshold, past the gates,
I have been washed, anointed, I received His name
“Look!” Said They, “upon Eve, she is the mother of all living!”
I did, I opened my eyes, I see her officiating,
why else would she offer me The Fruit to my filling?
That’s weird, it is sweet, it is bitter,
What’s this I feel? Father, Mother, I feel myself wither…
To the wilderness I go, through the thistles and thorns of life,
Ouch, this hurts my back, my feet, my heart, o the strife!
Tell me Deborah, under that great palm tree,
Is this the pain and suffering that you did foresee?
In time, I see you Eve, I understand the need for pain,
Living in this desert heightened my senses, and now
I can smell rain!
So through my physical descent,
I now am able to spiritually áscend.
Forgive me Eve, for my eyes had not seen,
I thank you for the gift, O yes Lord,
She gave me some fruit from the tree, and I did eat!
“Look!”Said They, as they took me up, up, up, to a high peak,
“We see that thy eyes have now truly opened, thy eyes have seen.
“Happy is the adam that findeth Wisdom, and understanding,
Her Springs are fresh, Her Manna, everlasting,
“Happy are We, to see you here and ready to feast,
“Is there something thou most desirest, our little colibrí?”
Tell me Deborah, sitting under The Great Palm Tree,
I am a colibrí, of course I desire sweet milk and honey,
I stand before the veil, I’m ready to fly in,
But where are the other colibrí, the lilies are white and ready to harvest!
“O child! Spoken like a true Ephraimite!
Of this I have foreseen, of this I have prophesied!
“It’s been so long, it’s been so strange,
But the winds are picking up, the winds of change…
“Fear not what man can do, the Lord is on thy side,
The Lord will thee guide, provide, and the world He has rectified
“Consider the lilies how they grow, they toil not neither do they spin,
Worry not thyself, for the return of the colibri will soon begin
Thank you Deborah, she who sits under The Great Palm Tree,
You truly are a great prophetess, your wisdom brings me peace
I approach the veil once again,
ready I think, to profess my heart’s deepest intent
“I thirst, and I hunger, and I’m ready to feast,
Lord please accept my broken heart, O Lord please accept my plea
“Blessed art thou sister, it shall be health to thy navel, and marrow to thy bones,
My blood will cover thee, and my stripes shall make thee whole
Enter in into My Home, My Rest,
Come meet my Father, and my Mother. Remember Them?
“Ah, my little colibrí,” says She,
“Do you now see that it has always been Me?”
“Who fed thee, clothed thee, and sustained thee?”
“I sent My Beloved Son, in whom We are well pleased,
To light the way for all, that thou might be redeemed!
“He is the Fruit from Me, the Mother Tree,
O please, My child, partake and eat!
And I did eat!
This painting is a social commentary on what I symbolically believe we are currently experiencing around the topic of a Divine Goddess, a Mother in Heaven, a Queen of Heaven. I think we are turning a page—feeling a sweet gust of wind—that is “turning the hearts of children to their Mother”. Here are some more of my thoughts…
As we approach the painting, it was important to me that the viewer feels as if they are looking up to Her from below—the respectful way that someone might approach a queen sitting on their throne, but also in an intimate tender way, like a young child coming to sit on their mother’s lap. Perhaps to be sung a lullaby.
She cradles Her baby, draped in a beautiful terracotta color—an earthy color, symbolic of humanity and mortality. The baby is you, and it’s me. Oh how she holds humanity in Her strong and loving arms!
The baby nurses; symbolic of receiving temporal and spiritual nourishment. The baby reaches out to the Mother, both in gratitude and curiosity. This is an act of seeking—of trying to part the veil between the known and the unknown. Thus the hair becomes the veil. The hair is dark, symbolic of us not being able to see beyond the veil with our mortal eyes and understanding.
But there is a warm breeze, and as Her hair catches the wind—the winds of change!—parts of the veil become thin, and one might catch a glimpse of what lies behind the veil…
Her hair is also worn over the left shoulder, like kings and queens throughout history—who, during their coronation, change their robe or sash to their left shoulder, a mark that they have reached the highest level of power and authority. She is the High Priestess, the Queen!
I’ve also come to think of the prophetess Deborah, from the Old Testament, as possibly a temple high priestess. She was a powerful leader, full of insight, wisdom, and truth. She was, in my opinion, a biblical figure who symbolized the Mother God in certain roles. In my painting, the Mother God is also found under a palm tree—an echo of Deborah who mirrors God the Mother’s high priestly roles.
And yet, the patriarchal world we have lived in for thousands of years has erased the Mother God in holy script so that only traces of Her are left to piece together. The search for The Mother can be difficult and tiring at best, and yet, still sweet. Thus, for me, the colibrí represents the relentless and devoted act of seeking after “milk and honey”, the feminine divine.
The Mother begins to smile as She spots the little colibrí—for it’s been millennia since anyone has come Her way. History has forgotten Her, but the winds of change bring hope and the seekers once again. The return of the colibrí. Like the baby and the little colibrí, do you consider yourself a seeker after milk and honey?
But why a hummingbird? Why not a dove, a sparrow, or other iconography commonly associated with religious art? In my own culture, the hummingbird is extremely symbolic and meaningful, and I felt like its symbolism fit my message perfectly. For despite being small, colibrí are fierce, courageous, devoted, and determined, even in the face of adversity. Those who seek the feminine divine in an extremely patriarchal systematic world know a thing or two about what it takes to walk down this path. Additionally, their fleeting nature also brings joy when one is spotted. Because of this, they’re seen as bringers of good news! You can imagine the hope Heavenly Mother might have in spotting a good little omen in the colibrí—in seeing Her children remember Her again and desire after Her ways.
The Mother’s hair is decorated with my favorite flower, calla lilies. They’re also synonymous with Mexican folk art, and the Virgin Mary (who is often associated with God the Mother). I also love the sweet reminder we read in Matthew 6:27, “consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin.” I also like to think of Doctrine & Covenants 1:4 as a field of white calla lilies instead of wheat; I can imagine myself as a little colibrí in a beautiful field of lilies. Perhaps a painting for a future project. :)
Did you notice the little worker bee resting on the lilies? Symbolic of finding peace and rest when we have returned Home to our Heavenly Parents. I also see the little worker bee as a reference to those who seek after the Queen and who work to bring Her back into the conversation.
Lastly, if you personally know me, the Mother God in my painting might look familiar to you. She resembles me a bit. This was actually accidental, but a happy accident. My whole life I’ve been told I look so much like my mom, and so it feels like a sweet nod to that. At first, I wasn’t happy about the fact that She was looking like me because I didn’t want to come off as self-absorbed, but the thought came strongly to me that I am Her daughter. Although of course this painting is made by a nobody like me, it’s a nice and comforting thought to think of heaven as a place that feels like home—where the faces I might see will feel familiar to me because we look related. It’s comforting. It gives the phrase “I am a child of God” a sweetness to it that I had never fully felt before. Perhaps this is a symptom of having consumed only white Euro-centric depictions of God, Jesus, and other holy people. Because of this, I think the concept of heaven subconsciously felt foreign to me, instead of familiar. So in a way, my “happy little accident” has healed parts of me that I didn’t realize needed healing, until now.