in search of the God vitamin
Time to meander the myriad mall-like hallways of my mind, tasting trickles of past experiences that twine like wisps of scent tickling the nostrils of cartoon characters, lifting and wafting them down already-trodden pathways to play in pastures of the past where the bad is safely-mapped in easily-avoided, well-marked nodes of trauma.
Those red warning blinkers still serve to divert attention from pains I was trained to avoid. ‘Don’t go there! You know what happened next! No, stay in the happy birthdays, Christmases and summer vacations of your life, sans strife, sans growth and challenge.’
If I could choose, I would lose divisions and meld my mind with the Infinite. My boundaries would blow in a blissful implosion; all considerations of self versus other would vanish like bubbles into the air.
Knowing all, feeling all, experiencing and comprehending with full lucidity, that is a good dream.
t must be sweet to be God, knowing each sparrow that flies, every dancing particle of thought crossing a worried mind, cradled within one consciousness, held in the awareness of all-embracing love. I like to imagine God as Mama and Papa, the all-gendered helping hand, wise words, soft cradling lap and abundant nourishment. In my infantile mind (comprising much of what calls itself me), I cry baby bird tears and blindly open my mouth for cosmic kindness and sustenance.
I’ve been thinking about God a lot lately, though I can be skeptical as the next cynic in my hard-assed ’show me’ self. Still, I must admit to hearing the small voice within that whispers, “I Am.” It explains itself in terms undeniably, lucidly sane yet if I listen to it, I am labeled crazy or at least creepily vain. Society is beginning to define itself (despite lip-service bible-thumping done to placate a silent but vote-heavy majority) as atheistic, preaching a paradox of random clockwork, chaotic order, and meaningless beauty.
If no higher truth governs our lives, why should we feel such desperate craving for meaning? If a hunger exists, it signals something important missing. Like God, the vital vitamin with the power to sustain life.
To be sure, not everyone feels this way. To some, abandoning such a seemingly futile search is blessed relief from a burdensome task. But others can no more abandon our seeking than we can refuse to see with eyes wide. Because one is blind, must another blank her vision or deny what is plainly visible?
Okay, that stretches the story out of shape, making a claim of clarity when the foggy forms I see are admittedly amorphous enough to be nearly anything. Still, the words whispering in my inner ear make a perfectly loving and kind sort of sense and teach me things I am not aware of knowing.
I must believe something. Why not this?