Love and belonging are irreducible needs of all men, women, and children. We’re hardwired for connection – it’s what gives purpose and meaning to our lives. The absence of love, belonging, and connection always leads to suffering. – Brené Brown



“My story is not big enough or true enough to create large or meaningful patterns by itself.”  – Richard Rohr



“The Christian Mission is always Christological and pneumatological, but the New Testament knows of no christology or pneumatology which is not ecclesial.” – David Bosch



Christian community is not an ideal we have to realize, but rather a reality created by God in Christ in which we may participate.  – Dietrich Bonhoeffer



There’s something beyond technique when two or more people are deeply listening to each other. It is an awareness that not only are we present to each other, we are present to something that is spiritual, holy, sacred.

The way we are, we are members of each other.  All of us.  Everything.  The difference ain’t in who is a member and who is not, but in who knows it and who don’t. 

– Wendell Berry 



Whoever cannot be alone should beware of community.  Without the discipline of solitude, community degenarates into enmeshment and codependency.  You will plunge into the void of words and feelings.

Whoever cannot stand being in community should beware of being alone. Without the discipline of community, solitude degenerates into isolation and self-absorption.  You will perish in the bottomless pit of vanity, self-infatuation and despair. – Dietrich Bonhoeffer



‘Community is intricate and complex.  Living in community as a people of God is inherently messy.  A congregation consists of many people of various moods, ideas, needs, experiences, gifts and injuries, desires and dissapointments, blessings and losses, intelligence and stupidity, living in proximity and in respect for one another, and believingly in worship of God.  It is not easy and it is not simple.  Not every situation can be anticipated.  Novel combinations of circumstances take us by surprise.  No community worth its salt has ever existed very long without attending painstakingly to particular conditions. 

I did not come to this conclusion easily, but there can be no maturity in the spiritual life, no obedience in following Jesus, no wholeness in the Christian life apart from an immersion and embrace of community.  I am not myself by myself.  Community, not the highly vaunted individualism of our culture, is the setting in which Christ is at play.  

– Eugene Peterson 



Lying, thinking

Last night

How to find my soul a home

Where water is not thirsty

And bread loaf is not stone

I came up with one thing

And I don’t believe I’m wrong

That nobody,

But nobody

Can make it out here alone.

—Maya Angelou



Human Relations — Eleanor Rigby

You are my worldly counterpart. 

You begin where I end,

I pick up where you leave off.

The yin to my yang,

the push to my pull.

We understand without words.

You hear what I do not say,

I feel the pain you don’t wish for.

We share the burden of one lifetime,

and share the joy of two.

Our friendship radiates.

What we know of each other, 

others never could understand.

You are the heart behind my soul.



Waar ek jy word – Antjie Krog

oor-ruisend deur ons

houvassende kapasiteit

op hierdie kniebare aardmantel

kan ek nie nie-jy wees nie

jy nie niemand wees nie

ons nie nêrens wees nie

die ongehoorde behorende woord

nie nie-gesê word deur ons nie

my hart haper — gewigloser as tevore

dog brugbaar

daar waar ek anders as jy is

begin ek dis waar

maar daar waar ek jy is

jy geword het sing ek buite myself

ligte polsslae kwiksilwersingend

iets anderkant alle mensheid gekaats



A brave and startling truth — Maya Angelou

We, this people, on a small and lonely planet

Traveling through casual space

Past aloof stars, across the way of indifferent suns

To a destination where all signs tell us

It is possible and imperative that we learn

A brave and startling truth

And when we come to it

To the day of peacemaking

When we release our fingers

From fists of hostility

And allow the pure air to cool our palms

When we come to it

When the curtain falls on the minstrel show of hate

And faces sooted with scorn are scrubbed clean

When battlefields and coliseum

No longer rake our unique and particular sons and daughters

Up with the bruised and bloody grass

To lie in identical plots in foreign soil

When the rapacious storming of the churches

The screaming racket in the temples have ceased

When the pennants are waving gaily

When the banners of the world tremble

Stoutly in the good, clean breeze

When we come to it

When we let the rifles fall from our shoulders

And children dress their dolls in flags of truce

When land mines of death have been removed

And the aged can walk into evenings of peace

When religious ritual is not perfumed

By the incense of burning flesh

And childhood dreams are not kicked awake

By nightmares of abuse

When we come to it

Then we will confess that not the Pyramids

With their stones set in mysterious perfection

Nor the Gardens of Babylon

Hanging as eternal beauty

In our collective memory

Not the Grand Canyon

Kindled into delicious color

By Western sunsets

Nor the Danube, flowing its blue soul into Europe

Not the sacred peak of Mount Fuji

Stretching to the Rising Sun

Neither Father Amazon nor Mother Mississippi who, without favor,

Nurture all creatures in the depths and on the shores

These are not the only wonders of the world

When we come to it

We, this people, on this minuscule and kithless globe

Who reach daily for the bomb, the blade and the dagger

Yet who petition in the dark for tokens of peace

We, this people on this mote of matter

In whose mouths abide cankerous words

Which challenge our very existence

Yet out of those same mouths

Come songs of such exquisite sweetness

That the heart falters in its labor

And the body is quieted into awe

We, this people, on this small and drifting planet

Whose hands can strike with such abandon

That in a twinkling, life is sapped from the living

Yet those same hands can touch with such healing, irresistible tenderness

That the haughty neck is happy to bow

And the proud back is glad to bend

Out of such chaos, of such contradiction

We learn that we are neither devils nor divines

When we come to it

We, this people, on this wayward, floating body

Created on this earth, of this earth

Have the power to fashion for this earth

A climate where every man and every woman

Can live freely without sanctimonious piety

Without crippling fear

When we come to it

We must confess that we are the possible

We are the miraculous, the true wonder of this world

That is when, and only when

We come to it.



When a friend calls to me from the road

And slows his horse to a meaning walk,

I don’t stand still and look around

On all the hills I haven’t hoed,

And shout from where I am, What is it?

No, not as there is a time to talk.

I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,

Blade-end up and five feet tall,

And plod: I go up to the stone wall

For a friendly visit.

—Robert Frost



Often I Imagine the Earth — Dan Gerber

Often I imagine the earth

through the eyes of the atoms we’re made of—

atoms, peculiar

atoms everywhere—

no me, no you, no opinions,

no beginning, no middle, no end,

soaring together like those

ancient Chinese birds

hatched miraculously with only one wing,

helping each other fly home.



Community dance — Elena Sandu

Celebration of life

Orientated creation

Mental imagery

Meaningful motion

United hearts

Neutral observations

Inclusive. Mindfulness.

Translation. Transition.

Youthful mind. Passion.

Dynamic activity

Art with

No borders

Communication of