Arts 2001 Week 4: Application
Illuminated: Kim Amorio (5/11/2010)
I had a dream that a broken vessel lay in the mud on a dark
  windy day. Some of the pieces stuck in the mud, as others were
  carried away by the wind. There was no light, only gloom; the
  scattered pieces seemed to disappear into the darkness of the
 shadows while the muck gripped the remaining hardened clay. I
   was deeply saddened by the state of the urn that was once so
beautifully crafted, for now it was of no good use; it was unable to
  hold beauty within and had been tossed out like trash into the
dimness of obscurity. Just as I felt a hand touch my shoulder, as if
                       to comfort me, I awoke.

     I sat up in my bed and saw the vessel atop my chess with a
   beautiful shaft of light illuminating the richness of it’s center
    (Freeman, 2007 pg 110). The parallel light rays refracting its
spherical surface created a sense of caustic accompaniment. I was
     comforted in knowing that the vessel was not rejected but
celebrated by the enlightenment of the sun. The drab wall behind
 it harmoniously complimented the bright symbolic green tones
                        and textures in the vase.

   Outside, it was windy but bright. Water that was murky in my
dream seemed more transparent than conceivable. The same light
 that shown through the window was now lighting my path, even
  in this miry situation. As I kneeled to take the photo, I realized
the metaphor and began to weep. I was the vessel, beautifully and
 wonderfully made, bound by nothing, and had never been alone
   or tossed away, but cherished and illuminated by the One who
made me. Light had shone on truth, exposing the lie and I knew
            that I would be forever useful to my Maker.

Arts Compilation

  • 7.
    Arts 2001 Week4: Application Illuminated: Kim Amorio (5/11/2010)
  • 8.
    I had adream that a broken vessel lay in the mud on a dark windy day. Some of the pieces stuck in the mud, as others were carried away by the wind. There was no light, only gloom; the scattered pieces seemed to disappear into the darkness of the shadows while the muck gripped the remaining hardened clay. I was deeply saddened by the state of the urn that was once so beautifully crafted, for now it was of no good use; it was unable to hold beauty within and had been tossed out like trash into the dimness of obscurity. Just as I felt a hand touch my shoulder, as if to comfort me, I awoke. I sat up in my bed and saw the vessel atop my chess with a beautiful shaft of light illuminating the richness of it’s center (Freeman, 2007 pg 110). The parallel light rays refracting its spherical surface created a sense of caustic accompaniment. I was comforted in knowing that the vessel was not rejected but celebrated by the enlightenment of the sun. The drab wall behind it harmoniously complimented the bright symbolic green tones and textures in the vase. Outside, it was windy but bright. Water that was murky in my dream seemed more transparent than conceivable. The same light that shown through the window was now lighting my path, even in this miry situation. As I kneeled to take the photo, I realized the metaphor and began to weep. I was the vessel, beautifully and wonderfully made, bound by nothing, and had never been alone or tossed away, but cherished and illuminated by the One who made me. Light had shone on truth, exposing the lie and I knew that I would be forever useful to my Maker.