a highlight of my life here is an arts group some friends and i formed over a year ago. we meet together a couple of times a month to discuss faith and art, and encourage one another to engage our imaginations and be producing works of creativity. it has been amazing to watch this group grow, not just in numbers but also in level of commitment and breadth of vision. the core members of this group are dedicated to loving this city, seeking the peace of this city through a flourishing of our talents and imagination. i love our gatherings because there is so much
energy: creative energy as well as an exuberant love for life, people and God. it is so nice to be spurred on in this way.
this year, we decided to hold an at-large activity once a month, to which we invite friends and create works within our various disciplines according to various themes. our hope is that after six months or so, we would have personally created a body of work and collectively created works that could culminate in some sort of final compilation project.
a discipline of creativity is so necessary. getting bogged down with work and routine responsibilities is inevitable and unless i am intentional about exercising creativity, i end up vegging out watching DVDs. i also have perfectionist tendencies and can be uber-sensitive about my work, which means projects are often started and then abandoned or forgotten.
in the spirit of generating creativity, i am attempting to create more and also share more. it's a good reminder that most of what i do is a work in progress, that i personally am also a work in progress, and it's not the perfection but the
process that matters right now.
at our meeting tonight, the theme was "justice" and we were free to respond in any fashion we chose to some quotes about justice. i wrote a poem--free verse, i suppose--about social justice from a personal perspective, trying to capture the tension of being privileged but helpless, wanting to do so much but feeling like i actually contribute so little. i don't like how the poem ends and i would like to rework it, but for now, it is what it is.
so. in the spirit of trying to share my ideas more, here goes.
Enough?From the comfort of a heated room
with mug of hot chocolate in hand
face and tummy warm from thick cuts of meat and thicker bread,
I click from site to site,
devastation and destruction
flickering like kaleidoscope images.
Floods in Bangladesh,
wars in the Middle East,
rape, plague, famine
hungry hands pleading for uncertain benevolence,
beaming from a bright small screen.
Is it enough to give 10 or 20 here,
to pledge this or that
all the while separated by miles and miles of land and sea,
culture and history,
experience and suffering,
the hand dealt by fate—
perhaps the greatest distance of all.
How much is enough for the old man by the subway stop,
hunched over and shivering,
shrouded in rags,
beard yellow and matted,
tin cup rattling in calloused hand,
eyes clouded, ruminating loss and certain regrets,
perhaps harboring quiet fury and indignation at what life has become?
Are my words and coins and offerings of fruit
mere microscopic drops in an insatiable bucket?
I, who simply opened my eyes and entered a world of loving parents,
striding through door after door of opportunity,
so empowered and yet so helpless.
Life cannot be only this:
a turn of some cosmic roulette or flick of the dice,
whereby we take what we get
and find some way of sleeping soundly at night.
cups of coffee: 2
mood: thankful and thinking, thinking, thinking