In a story about Rumi, the beloved ancient poet, a biographer writes about the transformation of Rumi's life after an encounter with heart wrenching love and loss.

It is told that Rumi transformed from a preacher to a poet. He left the complicated heady knowledge of his religion and leaned into the melody playing deep from his soul.

When the world is breaking apart, it is this same kind of melody I trust far more than those heady words coming from the pulpit.

Sometimes the only thing I know to do with grief, is pick up my pen, and trust in the deep melody my own heart hears.

Creativity heals and mends in a way nothing else can.

This past week I listened to a large group of people courageously share the art they created in response to living in a shattered world. It was holy. And it reminded me of what I've long known to be true, we all are artists.

We all have that same melody playing deep within us. We don't need that pulpit.

Sometimes all we need to do is pick up a pen, or a brush, or an instrument and trust that the creativity that comes is the very thing this world needs to heal.