An anchor in a world of fire
- Art of Hearing | Dyon Scheijen
- Mar 28
- 3 min read
The clock is moving forward.
As if we collectively decide that it is time to move on.
To keep moving.
As if time can be controlled.
But the world does not move along everywhere.
The world is on fire.
The Middle East is a mess.
Human rights. War laws. International treaties are being violated with gross violence.
Narcissistic leaders who defy world peace and bring misery again.
Innocent civilians and children who die.
Under the eye of the world.
Far away.
And at the same time close.
Not in kilometers.
But in what it does to you.
Powerlessness.
Grief.
Loss.
Fear.
Emotions that are allowed to be there because they make me feel that I am human.
—
And in the midst of all that, I sometimes kneel.
Not visible.
But on the inside.
I thank God
that I get to do this work.
That I am an audiologist.
Not the technical audiologist.
But the listening audiologist.
I hear people's stories
fled those countries.
Who know war and violence from the inside.
For whom hearing damage is only one layer
of everything they carry with them.
What I hear there is raw.
Painful.
Sometimes hard to comprehend.
And yet…
There is something else there as well.
Resilience.
Human strength.
Not loud.
Not spectacular.
But indestructibly present.
It is my mirror.
Where our strength lies.
—
Three canvases are arriving on Friday.
No coincidence.
The colors are already there.
Firework.
Light.
Dark.
Gold leaf.
And something that lies deeper:
The chance to make one of my biggest dreams come true again. Flying.
The client is a pilot.
He invited me to come along.
To distance yourself.
To look from above.
And he asked me for those clouds.
The one with the flat bottom.
As if they rest on a border you do not see.
And above that: strength.
Movement.
Into the atmosphere.
—
The artwork comes at just the right time.
Firework.
Passion.
Dark and light.
Anything goes in it.
A triptych.
—
As long as mankind has existed
we are looking for ways
to understand what it means to be human.
In science.
In art.
Sometimes we build.
Sometimes we break.
It is a fine line.
And somewhere lies a question.
which can no longer be ignored:
What do you do with what has been given to you?
—
I feel it becoming stronger and stronger.
That I am not allowed to make alone.
But must share.
Not to be bigger.
But because it wants to be heard.
—
The fire will begin to speak. And be heard.
—
This work has no title.
It carries a code.
DS26001.
My first assignment of this year.
Exclusive.
Because I believe
that words give direction,
but the work itself may speak.
That it needs no explanation
to gain meaning.
I let my art be the mirror for the viewer.
—
I let it happen.
I allow it.
I give it the space to be there.
—
Maybe that is the only thing we can do.
Keep feeling.
Keep listening.
Keep making.
Not only with our ears.
But with everything that lives within us.
Resilience Series →
© 2026 Dyon Scheijen
Clinical physicist audiologist | Artist | ACT
Where Art Meets Science
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