As we ponder the garden, let us consider the poetics of Joni Mitchell, “We’ve got to get ourselves back to the garden.”  There is a common tendency to lean upon the foggy lens of nostalgia in framing our past and in this case, our natural being.  Creation is messy, involving dead ends and unrealized aspirations.  But the leaf upon the branch finds light and nourishment, and leans toward the sun where its future lies.

Another line from Woodstock, “We are stardust, we are golden” lays claim to the grounding quality of our common humanity.  A college astronomy professor of mine once made me literally bolt upright in my seat by stating, “You were once part of a star.”  Yes, all of our chemical makeup at the cellular level was once hurling through space contained within the heavenly bodies.  Our DNA, our mitochondria was and is stardust, remnants of the Big Bang.

Might we come to learn to appreciate our biological communion with the cosmic structure of the universe?

“I came upon a child of god
He was walking along the road
And I asked him, where are you going
And this he told me
I’m going on down to Yasgur’s farm
I’m going to join in a rock ‘n roll band
I’m going to camp out on the land
I’m going to try and get my soul free
We are stardust
We are golden
And we’ve got to get ourselves
Back to the garden

Then can I walk beside you
I have come here to lose the smog
And I feel to be a cog in something turning
Well maybe it is just the time of year
Or maybe its the time of man
I don’t know who l am
But you know life is for learning
We are stardust
We are golden
And we’ve got to get ourselves
Back to the garden

By the time we got to Woodstock
We were half a million strong
And everywhere there was song and celebration
And I dreamed I saw the bombers
Riding shotgun in the sky
And they were turning into butterflies
Above our nation
We are stardust, billion year old carbon
We are golden, caught in the devils bargain
And we’ve got to get ourselves
Back to the garden”

© 1970 Siquomb Publishing Corp, Reprise / Warner Music

What St. Augustine characterized as original sin, I prefer to think of as original creativity.  The creation story of our fall from grace is in effect a blessing of free will from God and a yearning for our return.  For me, the story’s central character of Eve represents the intuitive nature of women and the inherent gifts they possess that by nature take them closer to the Godhead.

God is not a puppeteer.  Humankind has been granted the greatest gift of free will from the creator so that they in turn are empowered to create.  As for me, the garden represents the way of stasis –  harmonic union yes – but somehow flat in its mythic presentation.  With free will comes chaos and disturbance, yet opportunity.  We see this in the poetic form of Apple Computer’s logotype, the representative fruit with a bite taken from it in the intentional act of breaking established rules.

Refreshing commentary on free will comes from theologian and priest Matthew Fox in his book, Creativity.  “The Jewish Kabbalah instructs us that ‘the fierce power of imagination is a gift from God.’  Chaos is a prelude to creativity.  Artists wrestle with chaos.”

It is in the dance of the creative act that we are brought home to glimpse the garden.  Rick Danko of The Band sang, “Life is a carnival,” and thirteenth century mystic Meister Eckhart astutely posited, “God is delighted to watch your soul enlarge.”

The Phos Hilaron prayer manifests itself in art.  When two thousand years ago family members dared to “draw God” in the catacombs, they defied a principal commandment and were moved to render beauty’s relationship with the divine.  To honor their departed loved ones, these early faithful had to paint, and they drew forms that burned within, their passion undeniable.

God is present in great art, drawing upon the existential fire which compels our most talented souls to create.  Their subject matter might be considered profane by some, yet the expressive spark honors God within, pointing these artists toward transcendence.  Consider this thread – one might call it an arc – stretching from initial impulses thousands of years ago to render the divine, connecting us to the masterpieces of the early twentieth century, the modernity of Matisse, Picasso, Modigliani, Mario Sironi and their contemporaries.  The genius of their line work hearkens to those magnificently pure illustrations adorning catacomb walls along Rome’s Appian Way.

We live in a frenetic time, bombarded by stimuli.  The simple, ancient prayer of Phos Hilaron is ultimately about the light.  We must see the light through the cobwebs of tradition and our own preconceived notions.

Bathe in the light.  Surrender to the profound message of hope for ongoing creation.  Allow the aspects of phos (light) and hilaron (gladness) to overtake you.