Many friends have been asking me what I’ve heard from my friends in Cuba lately. The news on social media feels rather bleak, with a focus on electrical blackouts, scarce resources, and political uncertainty. What I am hearing from the facilitators who are leading Expressive Arts in Transition groups is more hopeful and inspiring. Our 11 leaders are connecting with more than 60 senior adults, youth, university students, and social service providers to explore the healing power of the arts and the imagination for health and soul care. As they lead, they are also artfully reflecting and responding to how their groups are growing and transforming their lives. What follows are images and reflections that you may not be seeing or hearing in the news, but are real. Thanks to the American Baptist Women in WA State, these leaders each received a bag of art supplies and loads of encouragement to create new communities of hope.

We asked our facilitators to imagine themselves as a chair in the room where their practice groups are meeting. What do they hear, see, and feel during a session? Here are two of their stories in their own words:

If I were to imagine myself as a chair in the space where my group gathered, I would say I felt the gentle weight of a meeting that gradually transformed. At first, I sensed a certain reserve, as if people were arriving with their bodies still somewhat detached from the space, their thoughts scattered, and their energy low. I heard voices settling in, sounds that at first seemed timid but grew more prominent as the minutes passed, as if the group was finding its rhythm.

I felt a space that gradually grew warmer. There was room to move around, but more than physical space, I felt that little by little, an inner space was also opening up: space to look, to imagine, to rest, to create. What most captured my attention was that silent shift between the beginning and the end, when facial expressions, posture, and overall energy began to transform. I was surprised to see how a simple experience, carefully nurtured, could produce so much inner movement.- Ariagna

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I am a wooden chair. Every Friday at 9 a.m., I prepare to receive the elderly, who come excited and full of expectation. But this last Friday was different. There was something in the air, a slight vibration, like when something important is about to happen. The participants were asked to take an imaginary journey. A journey to the future in a time machine. One year from today. They called it “the journey of hope.”

Rosa, in a firm voice, said: “I see a prosperous Cuba with plenty of food on the table every day.”Eduardo cheered up: “I see a pharmacy with medicine for everyone, and without queuing for anything.”And so the round went on. Each story was a glimmer of light. Most imagined a country where blackouts were just a memory. Another, a street where children could laugh without a care in the world.

The sounds of that morning were the most beautiful I’ve ever known: whispers, stifled laughter, the occasional tear falling onto my wooden arms. But there were also long silences, silences that weigh heavily and heal at the same time. The space felt larger, as if hope had widened the walls. No one moved in a hurry. Everyone took their time to dream. What caught my attention the most was how, when it was over, they didn’t want to leave. They looked at each other with different eyes. They weren’t the same people who had arrived at 9.

I was surprised by the strength of their hopes. They are elderly, sometimes tired, but that day their stories had the fervor of young people. They envisioned a future full of joy, of improvements, of lighter days for Cuba. As we said goodbye, I heard someone say something that I’ve kept in my heart: “We don’t know if it will be true, but dreaming it together has already changed us.” And I, her faithful chair, remained silent, still warm, knowing that on that Friday, at 9 in the morning, I witnessed a small but immense miracle: shared hope. -Mariela

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________