A few years ago, my daughter Livy was surprised when I told her I believed in God. She was 16 (I think) and didn’t know because I don’t tout God or observe religion unless it’s imminently relevant because for me God/source is such a big truth it doesn’t need to be spoken of. Since: of course there is a larger experience than human for all energy in existence; of course there’s an energetic presence of benevolence who we’re all as yet aspiring to. Speaking of it doesn’t make it more special; it just adds the “flawed myopic human overdub” to an experience best left to quiet.
And that religion has been bastardized—god pivoted around so as to basically become ourselves—I know that three letter word up there might stick in the craw so feel free to zero point and replace it with a word of your choice.
Because we live in times of deep grief for which We will all have to find a love that’s bigger; for the suffering of others isn’t for anyone/anything else to step up to. It’s for us to step up to.
And that’s a shortened version of what I intended to write because I haven’t even had my damned coffee. So: Happy 11/11/11(2018) [yesterday! This is my recycled IG post from 11/11] and large, shot-in-the-dark, come on over here, baby.
[Someone shared that saying on Facebook a few days ago and I wanted to offer it here in addition to FB and IG because it was so powerful for me when I saw it that I lost breath for a second. And even today, looking at it again—thinking about what it means from even a deeper place–I felt gratitude for its truth. For that I’m still emotionally-available enough to hear the vulnerable is a gift I won’t squander because yes, when you make yourself emotionally available to hear suffering, you face the grief of the world but in not hearing it–or in actively accepting the turning of blind eye–you’re living a lie in which you squander your opportunity to become powerful through offering your own self. Be the change].
[pic of the sky that very morning of “hey guys”. What a beauty)
In early 2017, I had an experience when I looked at the moon peeking out from behind the clouds; I could feel myself floating in a great abyss of blackness, racing through a Universe of unknown size at speeds that are literally unimaginable for my human brain to comprehend.
And in that same moment, I could feel the truth of that experience; the truth of all of that was happening as I stood there watching cloud wisps uncover the moon. And I became terrified. For in spite of what we perceive is occurring, we ARE hurtling through space. Through blackness, on a rock, floating with nothing underneath us, and if you push past yourself for a minute, you break through the illusion created by your own mind and instead of looking at the loveliness of our moon coming out from behind the clouds—feeling like the center of the world with moon as a beautiful reflection of our sun, rotating around our earth, anchoring us into stability–come to experience that we are simply specks in a larger whole within which we’re such a small part our brains can’t even get there. And the awareness of it all at once was too much for me that night and I hurriedly looked away from the sky. Because in spite of all of the well-intentioned New Age blah blah sometimes it makes perfect sense to be afraid.
And yet life moves on.
And so it was that this morning I walked outside under what (I’m assuming) is the same rock in the sky reflecting the light of the sun and a breeze was making the trees talk and stars were revealing great magic, and I inhaled of breath for the beauty above me, and instead of fear felt grateful they beheld a larger truth than human.
Then as I walked into the house with Sasha (aka Sasha Pants, our angelic boarder canine), looked at stars and moon and said “hey guys” in greeting, and started singing “…Rocket Man, burning out his fuse up there alone,” like passing through to thought, the sky was now my new home.