Author: rEN

In the bustling streets of Dakar, Senegal, where the scent of spices mingled with the ocean breeze, lived a young student named Akasha. Her skin bore the sun’s kiss, and her eyes held the promise of hidden realms. Akasha had moved to Athens as a child, but her heart remained tethered to the magic of her homeland.

Her modest apartment, adorned with woven tapestries and flickering candles, housed her collection of beautiful crystals. Each crystal hummed with energy—a silent symphony of possibility. Akasha studied their hues—the azure of the sky just before dawn, the amber of sun-kissed sand, and the iridescence of moonlight on water. She yearned to unlock their mysteries, to dance with them in the spaces between worlds.

But Akasha’s path was veiled in uncertainty. The elders whispered warnings—the magic she sought was forbidden, dangerous. “Stick to getting your education,” they cautioned. “Tend to your studies, your job, and forget these fanciful notions.”

Yet Akasha persisted. She meditated by the gnarled oak tree in a neighborhood park, her palms pressed against its ancient bark. She whispered incantations to the wind, hoping it would carry her desires to the spirits. And one moonless night, as the city lights painted constellations across the sky, a figure appeared—a woman.

“Amara,” Akasha breathed, recognizing her from the village tales. Amara was a sorceress—a keeper of ancient knowledge, a bridge between realms. Her presence crackled with energy, like lightning before a storm.

“You seek magic,” Amara said, her voice a melody of forgotten tongues. “But magic seeks the worthy. Are you ready, child?”

Akasha hesitated, her heart fluttering like a trapped bird. “I am,” she whispered. “Teach me.”

And so, their lessons began. Amara taught her to listen—to the rustle of leaves, the heartbeat of stones, and the pulse of the earth. She revealed the language of crystals—their vibrations, their memories etched in time. Akasha learned to levitate crystals, to summon raindrops, and to heal wounds with whispered spells.

But Amara was more than a teacher; she was a mirror reflecting Akasha’s doubts. “Magic,” she said, “is not about control. It’s about surrender—to the flow of life, to the unseen currents. You are a vessel, not a master.”

As seasons wove their tapestry, Akasha blossomed. She danced with fireflies in Piedmont Park, painted her dreams on canvas, and wove spells into her braids. The city watched in awe as she mended broken hearts and whispered courage to the fearful.

Yet Amara remained elusive, appearing when the moon hid its face. “Trust the timing,” she murmured. “The student shapes the teacher as much as the other way around.”

One day, Amara vanished. Her robes lay by the gnarled oak, dew-kissed and abandoned. Akasha wept, her tears mingling with the earth. But in her grief, she heard Amara’s voice—a whisper carried by the wind.

“Remember,” Amara said. “The teacher fades, but the student becomes the teacher. Seek the next seeker, and pass the torch.”

And so, Akasha wandered the streets, sharing her knowledge with those who hungered for magic. She became a beacon—a guide for lost souls, a weaver of dreams. Her name echoed through time, whispered by fireflies and etched into crystal caves.

For when the student is ready, the teacher will appear—a truth woven into the fabric of existence, binding hearts across realms and lifetimes. 

“When The Student Is Ready

”12×24

Mixed Media Collage with Variegated Silver Leaf, and Dutch Gold Leaf on Panel

rEN Dillard

The Savannah night was thick with mystery, the Spanish moss hanging low like veils between worlds. Clinton D. Powell, poet and seeker, stood at the threshold of the Duat—the ancient Egyptian underworld. Anubis, jackal-headed and solemn, guided him through the shimmering veil.

The air smelled of papyrus and sand, and the walls bore inscriptions—hieroglyphs etched by forgotten scribes. The path ahead was both familiar and otherworldly, like the verses Clinton had penned under moonlight.

Anubis led him to the Scales of Ma’at—a delicate balance that held the fate of souls. On one side rested a feather, ethereal and weightless. On the other, an empty vessel awaited Clinton’s heart. His ink-stained fingers trembled as he placed it there.

“Let your heart be weighed against truth,” Anubis intoned, his voice echoing through the cavernous hall. The feather quivered, and the cosmic winds held their breath. Clinton’s heart—the repository of love, pain, and wonder—was light, its beats in harmony with the celestial rhythm.

“Speak,” Anubis commanded. “Tell your story.”

And so, Clinton recited his poems—the ones written in dimly lit cafes, the ones whispered to the moon, the ones etched into the bark of ancient trees. 

Anubis nodded. “Your heart is light, and your words resonate across dimensions. You may ascend.”

Clinton stepped into the cosmic light, leaving behind the scales and the mirror. His mortal form dissolved, and he became stardust, woven into the fabric of existence.

Somewhere in the cosmic expanse, Anubis listened—the jackal-headed guardian attuned to the rhythm of Clinton’s immortal verses. And as the Savannah River whispered secrets, the poet’s legacy echoed through eternity.

“AnubisTaking ClintonTo TheScales”
30x40in
Mixed Media Collage with 23k Gold
by: rEN Dillard

Reference video link American Gods – “Mrs Fadil and Anubis”:

Shango: The Energetic Orisha of Fire and Lightning

In the mystical realm of the Yoruba pantheon, Shango, the powerful Orisha of thunder, fire, and lightning, roamed the celestial skies. His presence was marked by the rumbling of clouds, the crackling of lightning, and the earth-shaking thunder. But Shango was not content with merely reigning over the heavens; he yearned to express himself in the physical world.

One day, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Shango descended from the celestial plane. His fiery essence condensed into a human form, and he stepped onto the earthly soil. His eyes glowed like embers, and his skin radiated warmth. Shango’s purpose was clear: to infuse the mortal realm with his divine energy.

He wandered through dense forests, across rolling hills, and along the banks of rivers. Everywhere he went, life stirred. Trees stretched their branches toward him, leaves shimmering with newfound vitality. Animals danced in joy, their movements synchronized to the rhythm of his heartbeat. Even the rocks absorbed his essence, humming with an otherworldly resonance.

But Shango sought a vessel—a conduit through which he could channel his power directly into the physical world. He found it in a humble protein molecule, tucked away within the cells of a young acolyte named Ade. Ade was a devoted follower of the Orishas, and his heart resonated with Shango’s fiery spirit.

One moonlit night, Shango visited Ade in a dream. His form flickered between celestial and earthly, and his voice echoed like distant thunder.

“Listen, Ade,” Shango said. “You are chosen. I shall grant you a gift—the essence of fire and lightning. With it, you shall transform the mundane into the extraordinary.”

Ade awoke with a start, his body tingling. He felt a surge of energy, as if the very atoms within him danced. Shango’s essence had merged with his own, and Ade became a vessel—an embodiment of divine fire.

From that day forward, Ade’s life changed. His muscles rippled with newfound strength, and his eyes sparkled with inner fire. He could heal wounds with a touch, ignite flames with a thought, and summon lightning to cleanse the land. People marveled at his abilities, believing him to be a sorcerer or a demigod.

But Ade remained humble. He knew that Shango flowed through him, animating his every cell. The protein within him acted as a bridge, allowing the Orisha’s energy to manifest in the physical world. Ade became a healer, tending to the sick and wounded. His touch brought warmth, and his gaze dispelled darkness.

Word of Ade’s miraculous abilities reached the Yoruba elders. They recognized the signs—the double-headed axe, the lightning-shaped scars on his arms—and proclaimed him a priest of Shango. Ade built a shrine atop a hill, where he communed with the Orisha. There, he danced, drummed, and channeled Shango’s energy into rituals that revitalized the land.

And so, Shango expressed himself through Ade—the fiery protein coursing through his veins. Together, they brought balance to the world, ensuring that fire’s destructive force also nurtured growth. Ade’s very existence became a testament to the interconnectedness of the divine and the material.

To this day, when thunder rumbles and lightning streaks across the sky, the Yoruba people know that Shango walks among them. His energy pulses through the proteins of those who honor him, reminding them that they, too, can be vessels of transformation.

And so, the legend of Shango lives on—a tale of fire, protein, and the eternal dance between heaven and earth.

“Neo Shango”
30x40in
Mixed Media Collage with Silver and Copper
rEN Dillard

Reference video “SHANGO Lord of the Gods in Yoruba Mythology”

Part I: Awakening in the heart of the inner city, where concrete towers reached for the sky like ancient monoliths, lived Zara, a fifteen-year-old Black girl with eyes that held galaxies. She moved through her days like a shadow—unseen by most, but keenly aware of the world around her.Zara’s life was a tapestry woven from struggle and resilience. Her mother worked double shifts at the hospital, her father absent since she was a baby. Yet Zara found solace in books—their pages whispered secrets of distant stars and hidden realms.One night, as she lay on her rooftop gazing at constellations obscured by city lights, something shifted within her. A cosmic energy pulsed through her veins, awakening dormant strands of DNA. She felt connected to something ancient—a lineage beyond time.Part II: The TransformationThe next morning, Zara noticed a change. Her hair—once tightly coiled—now shimmered with iridescent hues. Feathers sprouted from her scalp like delicate obsidian wings. They were black as midnight but glinted with stardust.At school, whispers followed her down hallways. “Zara’s got feathers,” they said. Some mocked; others marveled. But Zara remained unfazed. She knew she was becoming more than flesh and bone.Part III: FlightAs weeks passed, Zara’s consciousness expanded. She could hear the city’s heartbeat—the rhythm of lives intersecting in chaos and beauty. The feathers granted her visions: glimpses of alternate realities where justice reigned and love transcended boundaries.One moonless night, Zara climbed to the rooftop once more. The wind whispered secrets as she spread her wings wide. With each beat, she soared above skyscrapers—past smog-choked clouds—until she touched the edge of space itself.From there, she beheld Earth—a fragile jewel suspended in cosmic vastness. Tears blurred her vision as she vowed to protect it—to be a beacon of hope for those forgotten by society.Part IV: AscensionWord spread about the girl with feathers—the urban legend who defied gravity. Some called her an angel; others feared her power. But Zara cared little for labels.One day, atop an abandoned water tower, she met an old man named Elijah—a sage who sensed her purpose. “Child,” he said, “you’re not bound by this world’s limitations.”Elijah taught Zara ancient chants—the language of forgotten gods—and guided her toward higher states of consciousness. Together, they meditated beneath star-strewn skies until Zara glimpsed eternity.Part V: LegacyWhen Elijah passed away, Zara wept for him—but his essence lingered within her feathers. She became a bridge between realms—a guardian of cosmic balance.And so it was that Zara, the girl with stardust in her veins and feathers on her head, soared above city streets—her heart aflame with purpose.

This week is the last week to take in the “Vibrate Higher” Exhibition at South Fulton County Art Center. The paintings in this exhibit are very important works by some of Atlanta’s most interesting emerging artists. A person’s vibration is a direct reflection of their inner thoughts, feelings, beliefs, choice of words, how well they take care of themselves, the natural environment, and others around them. Your vibration is your divine signature, your soul essence, and it is special only to you! “In today’s social, political, and economic atmosphere, it is even more important than ever to not only hold, but project a healthier state of being. As artists, it is our calling to do so. The Vibrate Higher Exhibition was a collective step in that direction.

Make no mistakes… “Vibrating Higher” is not for the faint of heart. Most of us only look internally and make changes when circumstance dictates that we absolutely have to. Raising your own vibration is not easy. The idea basically consists of going against ones own instinctual animal nature as opportunity presents itself in daily exchange with other people who also face the same dilemma. This is heavy lifting for the average person. Almost everything we come across on television or social media is designed to sell you a very gradual concept. Subtly overtime the essential idea is slowly introduced that you are not enough as you are already. As a matter of fact, you’ve got a lot of damn work to do! Maybe if you buy this, rub this in, try this for 30 days, you might begin to approach acceptability. Typically the most innocent looking advertisements are the most insidious. A lot of these low frequency commercials and “programs” are specifically aimed at children. Studies show that by the age of five, most children can tell you more about their perceived inadequacies than their attributes. By the time we enter young adulthood this tragic worldview and it’s accompanying behavior patterns are deeply engrained in our psychology. Low self esteem, cynicism, jealously, and insensitivety to other people’s suffering all appear well… normal. So what does a dew drop of integrity do lost in a vast desert of indecency? How does a person remain sain while still drinking from the same river as the insane? How indeed does a person actually  “vibrate higher”?

There exist certain principles intertwined through all of the philosophies and religions of the world. All of these principles ultimately point to one thing – Knowledge of self.

Knowledge of self can be found through all of the faiths, meditation, even the wilderness. Contrary to popular belief we actually do have the final say on how we want to live our lives. This is a very powerful realization that should not be overlooked. It is better to live your own destiny imperfectly than to live an imitation of somebody else’s life with perfection. The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why you are here in the first place. The exhibition features works by Deshun Stephens, Darrien West, D. Hodges, Creed, and Jeanne Burke Wierda. The work will be on display until Friday May 26^th. This is an electric time to be alive, come out and VIBRATE HIGHER!

Below I have listed 10 small ways to raise your daily vibration.

1. Practice self-love to fuel your energetic transformation. Focus on your own inner peace.  

2.     Meditate daily [at least 10 minutes] to clear your mental chaos.

3.     Forgive Yourself – The path to a higher vibrational frequency is not linear. You will make mistakes, miss essential spiritual lessons, and hit roadblocks along the way because you’re not perfect.

4.     Perceive the diversity of creation to appreciate all things.

5.     Remember that you reside in more than just your physical body, much more. Accept your interconnection with the universe to expand your consciousness.

6.     Soften your energy to release creativity and harmony

7.     Project your true self to live an authentic and fulfilling life.

8.     Avoid gossip and negativity

9.     Surround yourself with positive people to energize your spirit. Remember that proximity to positive people will empower you.

10.   Laugh out loud!

“Vibrate Higher” Exhibition

Location: South Fulton county Art Center Address: 4645 Butner Rd, College Park, GA 30349 Phone:(404) 612-3087 Art Center Manager : Tony Jordan Curator: Ralph “rEN” Dillard

“Being a painter requires a lot of vulnerability. Artist put their guts up on display for total strangers to make value judgements about how the guts look! It takes courage to be an artist in a society full of so much overt and subtle hate. If you are an artist… Stay true – they will understand later…” Ralph “rEN” Dillard #unlearn #renswork

“The Tao that can be named is not the eternal Tao.” This is the opening line of one of the most profound text in human history – The Tao Te Ching. As a visionary artist, I often ponder on the spiritual matters in life. I suppose that is just the way I am built. Lately I have been intensely focused on the lessons of the Tao Te Ching! It is such a fascinating read with all of its symmetry and balance that I find it sometimes difficult to put down.

Tao translates as WAY

Te translates as VIRTUE

Ching translates as LAW

Thus, Tao Te Ching can be translated as “The Way and the Power of The Law”

The Tao Te Ching is the second most published book in history only second to by the Bible. I think it’s popularity over the centuries is due to its simplicity and clarity. It almost feels as if the book is communicating ideas that you already knew but had somehow forgotten! This eloquently written document contains information that the reader intuitively feels is true, but perhaps had never seen the ideas articulated in such a way. The first time I was introduced to the Tao Te Ching, I remember feeling that I had waited my whole life to hear the simple sayings in this book.

A very “wise old man” named Lao Tzu is the author of the Tao Te Ching. Lao Tzu actually translates as “old man” or “old master”. He is said to have lived around 2500 years ago in 6th century BC [500years before Christ]. He was also believed to have been a contemporary of Confucius! The story goes that Lao Tzu had accumulated a vast amount of wisdom over his lifetime and had grown weary of living around other people. One day he packed his bags to leave the community and go off alone to live as a hermit. There are various theories as to how Lao Tzu came to write the Tao. One of the most widely accepted theories is that as he approached the gate, the guard recognized him and informed him that he could not leave until he wrote down his knowledge for the people to have after his departure.

Lao Tzu complied with the guard’s request in the form of the 81 verses of the Tao. The poetic words of the Tao are almost musical in composition!

“He who stands on tiptoe

doesn’t stand firm.

He who rushes ahead

doesn’t go far.

He who tries to shine

dims his own light.

He who defines himself

can’t know who he really is.

He who has power over others

can’t empower himself.

He who clings to his work

will create nothing that endures.

If you want to accord with the Tao,

just do your job, then let go.”

Lao Tzu

The word Tao means  – way. The “way” meaning the unnamable process or flow of the universe. The idea has been likened to a fish in the river. Though it can swim in many directions, it is still being carried along by the general movement of the river in a way that it could not possibly fully conceive. The minute we wake up to our connection to the universal movement of the Tao, we like the fish, instantly realize the full power of the river is at our disposal. We begin to swim, or in our case live more skillfully! It is the difference between a man using every muscle in his back on a row boat, or the same man putting up a sail and using the wind to cross a great body of water.

Return is said to be the movement of the Tao. This idea is expressed in the well known YinYang symbol above.

Yin is understood to represent the female principle of phenomena while Yang represents the male principle.

This sacred geometric figure is widely considered a two part symbol. But there is a third element that is more vital than the obvious two contrasting colors. Yes the white and the dark halves have edges that define each other. It is this very condition that makes them dependent upon one another to exist! The concept is similar to the way shape and color are linked, or hearing and sound. Their existence is transactional! There is no seller without a buyer and no buyer without a seller. The height of the mountain above implies the depth of the valley below. The two go together and are inseparable. In this case the inseparable visible quality of the YinYang symbol is the circle from which neither half can escape. The circle is like the river to the fish.

Chapter 76 excerpt from The Tao Te Ching *

“While alive, the body is soft and pliant

When dead, it is hard and rigid

All living things, grass and trees,

While alive, are soft and supple

When dead, become dry and brittle

Thus that which is hard and stiff

is the follower of death

That which is soft and yielding

is the follower of life

Therefore, an inflexible army will not win

A strong tree will be cut down

The big and forceful occupy a lowly position

While the soft and pliant occupy a higher place”

Not a book to be read in a single sitting, the Tao Te Ching is intended to be digested slowly and thoughtfully over time. Each passage is a different viewpoint to be pondered and enjoyed on a variety of levels. At times, the writing is unclear and somewhat puzzle-like, but a reader who is patient enough to explore the variety of possibilities will find themselves spiritually richer for the effort.

Respectfully,

rEN