Belonging, and the Sacred Work of Seeing One Another

We often begin as strangers, carrying our stories quietly within us. We arrive with hopes and uncertainties, songs half-written, questions still unfolding, and the weight of all that life has been asking of us. Yet something remarkable happens when people choose to stay present to one another. Through listening, shared meals, stories, and music, the distance between us begins to soften. We unfold. 

During the Creative Retreat held on 31st July held at Hunter Valley, David Gungor shared a tradition from his own community: whenever someone reaches that moment of feeling truly at home, they stand up and announce, "I've arrived!" It's playful, but profound too, speaking to the moment we realise we no longer need to perform, prove ourselves, or hide the unfinished parts of who we are. 

Before long, we'd taken up the same practice. As laughter deepened and stories became more honest, someone would call out, "I've arrived!" The words became a celebration of belonging. 

This retreat was built around the theme of Bond, the ties that hold us, sustain us, and create the conditions in which beauty can emerge. As we listened to one another's stories, dreams, and longings, we became more than individual artists, songwriters, ministers, and dreamers. We became a creative community, discovering that what holds us is also what creates us. 

We arrived as fellow travellers. We left as witnesses to one another's becoming. 

Reflection: Will Small (Spiritual Misfits & Meeting Ground) 

For me, the retreat weekend was like a deep and gentle inhale. In the ancient world, "breath" and "spirit" were the same word, and it feels true to say I breathed spirit deeply. My goal wasn't to produce creative work, but to "fill the well," to borrow language from writer Julia Cameron. And fill it I did. Listening to vulnerable stories from a diverse bunch of "scallywags," feasting together at an enormous table, and stepping outside the routines of my full-to-the-brim life, this was rich and nourishing. I was reminded that the face of God can be seen everywhere, if we have eyes to see. The work of songwriters, poets and artists in the Church is to see, and then to share. 

On Sunday morning I wandered out, coffee in hand, to the fire pit where we'd sat beneath stars the night before. The coals were still warm. I know the coals of my own creativity will remain warm too, in the afterglow of this time. 

Reflection: Rev. Kevin Crouse (New City Maitland) 

After being invited to the retreat, I found myself wondering whether I truly belonged. It had been some time since I'd written songs, let alone picked up my guitar, and I questioned whether I still had a place in a creative community. 

A recurring theme throughout, particularly in our sessions with Kym Dixon, was belonging. People shared their stories with courage and vulnerability, and those stories were received with gentleness and grace. It was a gift to reflect together and receive wisdom from Tash Holmes, Will Small, Kym Dixon, David Gungor, John Arndt, Jon Reichardt, and every person who attended. 

The retreat gave me permission to return to writing without the pressure to produce, perform or prove myself. During the weekend I drafted a poem, Dead Cherry Tree, which I hope to fine-tune in the coming weeks, part of my ongoing healing and formation journey. Before and after the retreat, I found myself picking up my guitar again and relearning old songs. A quiet but significant sign that something has been rekindled. 

Looking Ahead 

As we step back into daily life, we carry the warmth of these firelit conversations and the sacred trust built this weekend. The retreat may have ended, but the song is far from over. In the coming weeks, we'll nurture these connections through upcoming songwriting sessions and shared creative spaces. May the coals of your creativity stay burning bright, and may you continue to create, rest, and belong right where you are.