I Come in Peace.
Open Heart. Open Mind. Open Hand.
MAKE YOUR PEACE
The process of my creating the “Offering” ceramic sculpture series involves interdependence and interconnection with other ceramists for several weeks outside in the weather which culminates into months. We are potters, hand builders, and sculptors. We are kiln watchers. Kiln watching is physically dirty, full-bodied work. Kiln watching is also selfless, as our efforts are collectively alchemical. My Japanese wood-fired Anagram series explores active meditation and kinetic mantras. The resulting sculptural forms are compelling devotional reliquaries where the life, death, life cycle finds peace. ~Shelita Birchett Benash, MSW
The “Offering” Series, Japanese-wood fired ceramic forms, mixed media assemblage sculpture. 3.5’ X 28” W X 24” D.
by Shelita Birchett Benash, MSW
Honoring Ancestors and Spirit Guides
SAY YOUR PEACE
My call to service began when I was called to the hallway dorm hardwired telephone in 1983. My mother was on the other end of the line. She said, “Dad is sick. You need to come home.” That year, I left college campus life to go home to help care for my father through the last two years of his life.
The idea of a sculpture made of prayer beads came to me while searching for an action that would make a difference. I believe in the power of prayer. I also believe in the capacity for expressive art to facilitate positive emotions and healing energies. My dearest friend was diagnosed with a rare lymphoma. Donna and I were soul sisters. She let me into a small sacred circle. I became one of Donna’s primary caregivers at that time. Making intentional, meditative ceramic sculptures and contemplative mixed media artwork was a positive action that felt empowering in the face of acknowledging that I control nothing.
After Donna’s transition in 2014, I began providing support for hospice patients, families, and staff as a certified hospice volunteer and end-of-life doula. During those three years, a whole new world opened up to me as my artwork and life trajectory changed.
Rest in Peace
My nephew, Chadd, left this plane days after his 30th birthday on April 8, 2018. His was the first eulogy I had ever written. In August 2023, I wrote and delivered the second eulogy I had ever written for David, my sister Bridget's husband, Chadd's father. David suddenly transitioned on my birthday, July 29, 2023. David’s leaving this dimension was another shock to the family. Bridget and David were high school sweethearts, together since they were 16. Six months later, on December 12, 2023, Michael, David's younger brother, suddenly transitioned in his sleep. 2023 was a year of tremendous loss for my family.
My African American diasporic family has much in common with the traditional BIPOC family experiences around early death and cultural barriers to accessing mental health and physical health care while also succumbing to the detrimental impacts of low health literacy and toxic stress. I learned this lesson early, as I cared for my father during the two years of his terminal illness before he died at 46 years old.
I am walking this path for a reason. I am passionate about love as health justice, increasing health literacy and collective wellbeing.
Walk in Peace
I started running as a formal practice while still living in New York City over twenty years ago. I used to run around the Central Park Reservoir. And as a New Yorker, walking was life. They say the average New Yorker walks three miles a day. Walking from my Spanish Harlem apartment to the 26th Street Flea Market and back was a typical Sunday. I love long walks in Nature, of course. However, long city walks are no less revelatory. Slow running is a form of meditation.
Recently, I was on a silent retreat with a fellow traveler. We discussed running during a practice discussion session. He was enthusiastically sharing his thrill at completing his first half-marathon. I congratulated him and shared how I used to run half-marathons before swearing off running on hard surfaces such as asphalt.
When I described how I listened to my body by stopping running for a year, he said, “You quit running.” I took that statement in, then said, “I never quit running. My body humbled me. I listened to my body. Running is an embodied practice. Running is truth. I was presented with a choice. Did I want to run now or run for a lifetime? I chose to rest my knee through recovery, cross-training, and mountain biking for a year. How remarkable that I returned to slow running after a year without pain. The body is the teacher.
