When my husband and I first moved in together, he placed 1 statue of a God, and 1 picture of a Guru on our kitchen counter. And quite honestly, it freaked me out.
Historically, I have had a very tricky relationship with religion - and (due to personal experience) associated it with sexist oppression. I hated a lot of its dogma, disapproved of its discrimination, and felt confused by the certainty laced into each one. How could religion - something designed to explain the unexplainable - dig its feet so firmly into temporal sand?
This is in part why I spent 4 years asking and (kind of) answering these questions. I got a degree in both Philosophy and Religion. I often dreamed of a world where we each created our own Religious Philosophy - inspired by worldwide traditions. What if we borrowed parts from each system to create a greater whole? What if we Control+Alt+Deleted and started fresh?
I wanted a place to land that wasn’t a nod in agreement of, “This is what God looks like,” but something that’s more like, “Whatever this is - it’s wild right?” A place to marvel, wonder, and engage in open and honest dialogue. A place that’s focused more on feeling God than defining it. A place that plays with the idea that perhaps God is already inside of us. A place that supports us in helping each other find it. A place that, yes, references ancient texts to inspire - but one that isn’t afraid to pull from knowledge across geographical borders. A place that doesn’t define what a good person is, but supports your unique and messy evolution.
I’m sharing this because, a few months ago - in an innocent act of rearranging furniture - an altar began to emerge in my apartment. One that seems to represent this very idea - this place that I had long been longing for.
God - in the effortless growth of a tree
God - in the wisdom of Buddha’s silence
God - in Nataraja’s dichotomy of destruction and dance
God - in the bodily intelligence of the photo’s artist
God - in Ganesha’s trust that our obstacles can be removed
God - in the channeling of Chinmaya
God - in the symbol of a hand attuning to something bigger
God - in a candle mirroring our inner light
God - in a rock I had painted gold to give to my rock
God - in the love that has since emerged
For years, I used to say - “I don’t believe in God.” But lately, I’m beginning to think that I do. I believe it because I can feel it - not because I follow the rules. But precisely because I’ve discovered - there are none.
I feel aligned to a faith that welcomes more than it punishes, forgives more than it shames, bucks the rules more than it desperately tries to uphold them. I see God, more and more, in unexpected people, places, things. I feel God backing my every move.
Another way to say this is, perhaps, “I believe in Love.”
Because love is the energy of this place.
Love - as an embodied, effortless execution.
Love - not without pain but dancing next to it.
Love - for the mystery within and around our bodies.
Love - as trust, despite belief.
Love - in the ways we continue to teach each other.
Love - an attunement to inner light
Love - in its infinitely interpreted forms.
Love - an ancient universal art.
I am not “fighting for a better world.”
I am loving my way into it.
And I am praying for its support on my course.
Whatever this is - it really does feel wild right?
Whatever this is - I pray:
Help me serve.
