Living in the light

Beautiful St. Beuno’s 

The galloping girl has emerged from retreat.

The gorgeous countryside surrounding the retreat centre

I recently spent 6 days in Wales at St. Beuno’s, a Jesuit retreat centre, enjoying a lovely retreat. It was just what I needed – free-flowing, spontaneous, uncluttered, intimate, and creative. Sometimes retreats are a lot of work. They are not, generally, like a vacation. But this retreat didn’t really feel like work – the only work was letting myself sink into the experience of God in all things.

I had to make a little visit to Gerard W. Hughes, SJ at the beginning of my retreat and say a prayer of thanksgiving for all of the help he has given me through his books, especially God of Surprises and Cry of Wonder

The wonderful labyrinth on the retreat grounds – a very helpful walking prayer

I encountered God in mostly small ways – the community Eucharist, quiet prayers outside or in one of the chapels, through the courtesy of my fellow retreatants, and out in the fields and forests surrounding the retreat centre. Most of all, I encountered God within myself, expressed through artwork – mainly collage, that gave shape and form to mysterious encounter and abiding love.

A collage made after a meditation on the Sun of God (and yes, I mean sun!)

Spontaneous creativity after prayer

My first collage – I was struck by the cartoon “Inspiration for Creatives”

It was a beautiful time to reflect on the activities of the past year and dream with God about what comes next (including the Mary Ward Summer School in York, where I am right now!).

On the final day of my retreat, my director gave me a poem to pray with by Jan Richardson that I would like to share here. It helped to bring together all of the little moments of my retreat.

 

How the Light Comes

I cannot tell you
how the light comes.

What I know
is that it is more ancient
than imagining.

That it travels
across an astounding expanse
to reach us.

That it loves
searching out
what is hidden
what is lost
what is forgotten
or in peril
or in pain.

That it has a fondness
for the body
for finding its way
toward flesh
for tracing the edges
of form
for shining forth
through the eye,
the hand,
the heart.

I cannot tell you
how the light comes,
but that it does.
That it will.
That it works its way
into the deepest dark
that enfolds you,
though it may seem
long ages in coming
or arrive in a shape
you did not foresee.

And so
may we this day
turn ourselves toward it.
May we lift our faces
to let it find us.
May we bend our bodies
to follow the arc it makes.
May we open
and open more
and open still

to the blessed light
that comes.

—Jan Richardson