I think about the world a lot lately. Sometimes I send it love and prayers and hope for the best and other days I am afraid for us all.

But there’s a story that keeps returning to me. Because sometimes what you can’t explain becomes clear in a story.

In December 1975 my partner and I boarded the Orient Express in Paris bound for Greece  (there are many stories in that week long trip without proper currency and visas to pass through Yugoslavia) But there is one that comes to mind these days. It was shortly after the Junta in Greece had been overthrown which involved student uprisings and a brutal clash between communist factions and an 8 year authoritarian rule by the colonels.

Each compartment on this unluxurious version of the Orient Express held eight people in a very cramped style. In Northern Italy three Greek students joined our already cozy compartment and quickly realized we were North Americans. We surmised from their great coats and khaki sweaters that they most likely thought of themselves as communists. They quickly made friends with the two Yugoslavian labourers who were in the compartment as well. They proceeded to scowl and glare at us, speaking to each other in Greek. You could cut the air with any sharp implement of choice, a tongue, a knife, whatever. There didn’t seem anything to be done about it. We minded our business and turned our thoughts to our destination of Athens.

We entered northern Greece in the middle of the night and, unceremoniously, our train lurched to a stop, luggage flying off the racks onto sleeping passengers. There was a lot of grinding and sparking of the wheels on the track and everyone sensed there was something wrong. The lights were out and there was shouting from crew outside. Finally the train was moved off the main track onto a siding and seconds afterwards a high speed train flew by on the main track. Passengers were hastened from the train to a nearby station platform while our train was moved back onto the main track. As we stood there we were all aware of how close we had come to a train wreck.

As our brains processed this a sense of relief and a feeling that we were lucky to be alive flooded the platform. The students suddenly became friendly, walking over to us, offering us cigarettes and nods of a shared humanity in our narrow escape.

Their former opinion and dislike for us was based on some idea. But as we all stood sharing our vulnerable humanity it became evident that those “ideas” were less important than the commonality we shared which was that we’d survived death.

It makes me wonder, what will it take in this current world? What kind of train wreck will we need to realize that we are all just vulnerable humans sharing a planet?

These 3 small works on paper (9 1/2″ x 7 1/4″) “Prayers To The World” are $55 each. I think of pink as the colour of peace and these energetic and vibrant paintings are like an intention to elevate the energy of the world. Please let me know if you are interested in bringing a small prayer home.