“Peace where there is war
healing where there is hurt
memory where we have forgotten the other.
Vision where there is violence
light where there is madness
sight where we have blinded each other.
Comfort where there is sorrow
tears where there is hardness
laughter where we have missed life’s joy
laughter when we remember the joy.”
~John Philip Newell

Now and then I am confronted, face to face, with the privileged life I lead. Most days I forget that the path I walk is paved with golden stones that so many others do not even know exist. So busy I am in taking out the trash and filling out forms and sorting the details of my everyday existence that I forget that the gifts which have been showered on my simple life are unknown by much of the world. A safe home. More than enough food. Health and the access to the health care I need to keep it so. Loving family and friends all around. Enough financial resources to be more than comfortable. Work I love and that fulfills some purpose. These are our basic needs lest we forget.

It is a privileged life. And these last three days have thrown this mirror up to remind me. I have been blessed to take a few days to explore and experience the work of art and Spirit. In a retreat I have helped to lead people have gathered to connect with the ways the Spirit urges them to creativity. There has been singing and dancing, storytelling and painting, poetry and writing, photography and prayer. All in abundance. People have tried things that were unfamiliar while others shared skills they had practiced for years. Discoveries were made. Insights gained. Laughter and tears was our food. Privilege.

Several times as we were doing these creative acts, someone would name a place or persons who were outside this circle of privilege. We would send a song, like the prayer it is, toward our human brothers and sisters in Israel and Palestine, in Russia and the Ukraine, in the neighborhoods we know where violence is daily. It was a moment of remembering and connection, a moment of recognizing the privilege. Our painting and poetry pulled in the goodness of Creation and the sights of the green and vibrant landscape just outside our windows. This view was often accompanied by the plaintive call of the loon from the nearby lake. Painting and poetry became prayer for all the ways those of us who walk upright continue to harm this planet. With privilege comes responsibility.

Last night as we were about to fall asleep my husband said to me:”We lead a charmed life you know.” Indeed. The luxury, the gift of coming away to do what we have done for these days is the life of a blessed people. And my heart is filled with gratitude for the gift of it. Given the state of many places in the world and the state of lives not so distant from my own, some might say this is frivolous work. But I believe that is not true. The work of creating art has always been the bedrock of what it means to be human. All the stories ever told or written of how the world came to be find their truth in the act of creativity. And, if we allow ourselves the time and presence, I believe all the solutions to the problems and disputes we see around us will come about through the this same power of creativity whose Source we name in different ways.

We have been blessed these days to learn some of the techniques and stories used to hold the spirit and art of the aboriginal people of Australia. The art uses simple yet profound symbols to tell the story of the life of a family, a community, a connection with the larger story of which we are all a part. As each of us took up our canvas and began our own painting, our own story, I was struck with the power of the energy in the room. I was held in the spirit of the people to my left and right and those throughout the room. Our abilities and skills varied but our presence together held great promise. And so it is and has always been.

On this day, this privileged day which never has been or will be again, may we each walk in the privilege of creativity. May we walk gently on the Earth and may our prayers be flung far and wide for our fellow travelers whose lives may not be held in the same privilege as ours.